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“Iknowit’s true,” she counters, smiling magnetically, “and I don’t want to hear any arguments about it, okay?”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. Not just because of her compliment but because I know what I’m going to do—the right thing. I’m going to tell Duke the truth. As soon as I make this decision, it’s like this nasty monster finally lets me go. I’m not cut out for revenge, hot or cold, even if Ryan deserves it.
* * *
I’m shaky as I leave the college dorm and walk toward the street to meet Duke. After Rachael left for her date, I was alone with my thoughts for a little while, giving me plenty of time to think about Ryan, revenge, and these fierce feelings gripping me every time I think of Duke.
Duke is waiting by his car. It’s a dark, long vehicle—I’ve never been great with cars—with tinted windows. It has a somehow ominous air, as if capable of as much violence as its owner. Duke walks over to me, looking dashing in his blue shirt, with no suit jacket to hide the hard outline of his muscles.
He reaches out and takes my hand. Buzzing electricity flutters up my arm. I’m used to the feeling of my heart trying to bust out of my chest, but that’s usually nerves, the awkwardness that comes before reading aloud in class. This is something else. This is pure desire trying to make me do something reckless.
“It’s good to see you,” he says, his voice husky like my fantasy.
Tell him now. Instead, I say, “And you, Duke.” We’re still holding hands. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
He smirks, letting my hand go and opening the passenger-side door. “I’ve been looking forward to this since before we met.”
I laugh, but only because he says it in a joking tone. I don’t actually find it funny. In fact, it hits me like a good piece of poetry, right in the feels. It slams into me so hard I almost throw myself at him, kiss him passionately, then tell him I feel the same. Ireallyfeel the same, and not just as some throwaway comment.
Once I’m in the car, he closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side. I love how he moves like a lion, slow and easy but ready to spring into ferocious action.
“Have you had a good day?” he asks, starting the car.
You could tell him right now, a voice notes distantly. I’m letting this go way too far. “Yeah,” I reply. “It was quite exciting, actually. I was watching some MMA fights.”
He glances at me with that captivating smirk, then watches the road. “Did you see the one where I was knocked out?”
“Yeah, and I also saw where you knockedhimout in the next fight.”
“That’s my only loss,” he says ruefully. “I avenged it. That means something, but it still stings.”
I think about the version of Duke I watched online: his hair black instead of streaked with silver, his body leaner, less experienced. I prefer him now. Maybe that says something about me. I don’t care. I love the silver hair and the seasoned strength.
“Were you scared?” I ask.
“For which fight?”
“All of them.”
He casually glides the steering wheel around, taking the question seriously. “I was never scared of getting hurt, but I was worried I’d lose everything I worked for. I’d invested all this time in fighting, and nothing would come of it. That was my biggest fear. Not being able to provide for my son.”
I swallow. This is thebesttime to tell him. Maybe there’s a chance he’ll still want to go on the date. Yet the moment keeps passing me by, or perhaps I’m letting it.
It would be natural for me to ask some follow-up questions here. Is he close with his son? Is he on good terms with the mother? Whatever, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Are you okay?” he says after a minute or two of silence.
“Yeah, just…”Tell him. “Sorry. Am I quieter than your other dates?”
He scowls. For a second, he lookssomuch like Ryan. I almost expect him to start berating me or to throw a critical comment my way. He doesn’t smell of booze like Ryan often did, though. Like Dad often did, too. Or maybe the word I’m looking for isalways.
“I don’t have other dates,” he says shortly.
Well, that’s just a lie. I could play this subtly, but I don’t. “I saw the app, Duke. It’s fine. People date. It’s—”
“Bullshit,” he cuts in fiercely. “I downloaded that app because a buddy at the gym suggested it. He thinks I need some fun in my life. I matched with some women, but I felt nothing. I didn’t message any of them. I didn’t even try. It doesn’t feel real, but this… this feels real.”
If he’s lying, he’s saying all the right things. His words light me up and make me believe I’m different and special. Maybe he wants me as badly as I want him. Even if that’s true, it’s notgood. It’ll just make the crash that much more painful.
