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“Yeah right!” Ryan scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest and glanced out the window. “Who in their right mind would ever want to sleep with you?”
“Antonio Bautista. Your former teammate,” I happily announced, recalling the brief ‘fling’ I’d had with the delicious, caramel-skinned pitcher who possessed the most delectable butt dimples known to man. A man I met at a bodega near my apartment and became my friend. A man whose agent was an old acquaintance from high school. A gentle, giving, caring man with a bit of a jealous streak who, it turned out, was very, very gay.
“Antonio?” Ryan’s eyes went wide with shock. “You slept with Antonio?”
No. We just pretended that we did, but that’s none of your business.
“Why? Don’t tell me that you’re the one who’s jealous?” I sassed back, showing my teeth as I forced my lips into a smile. It was no secret the two men hated each other. They were constantly at each other’s throats and Vinnie had told me that dealing with them had been a PR nightmare for the team. What Ryan didn’t know was that Antonio’s boyfriend had the hots for Ryan and that was why Antonio hated him.
“I’d never be jealous of anything that man touches,” Ryan hissed, his vitriol tangible across the short distance between us. “If that’s the type of guy you go for…”
Then that says a lot about you, and none of it good.
I knew what he was going to say without hearing it. It was always the same with men. Suddenly, I was reminded of what most men apparently thought of me. That the only thing that I was good for was the availability of my pussy. For some reason, guys viewed me as someone who was too loud. Too opinionated. Too difficult. Too… much. I wasn’t even a person to them. Just a body part for them to use before never speaking to me again.
The familiar sting of humiliation warmed my cheeks. I abruptly turned back around so Ryan wouldn’t see how what was left unspoken had me close to tears.
“What’s the matter, Lou? Chickening out just when it’s getting good?”
I ignored him while he continued to taunt me.
“Why don’t you do me a favor and just leave me alone for the rest of the flight? And I’ll extend the same courtesy to you.” I finally cracked just as the lady sitting across from me flashed me a look of pity.
“Yeah, right,” Ryan bit, not believing me for a second.
No longer interested in fighting with him, or watching him make an ass out of himself with the slutty flight attendant (who was an embarrassment to all flight attendants in my book), I shifted in my seat and fished out the book I’d bought just before I spotted and avoided Ryan in line at Starbucks.
“What? You’re just going to ignore me now?” His angry bark rose over the top of my seat. He was trying to bait me, but I’d had enough. The last thing I wanted was for him to see how he’d gotten to me. How he’d reminded me of my worthlessness. I was also certain that the few people sitting with us had had enough of us going back and forth, and frankly, my lack of sleep from the whole wedding fiasco was starting to catch up with me.
Instead of giving him a verbal reply, I slowly raised my middle finger over the top of my seat. Ryan growled again, lower and deadlier this time. I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face knowing I’d struck the nerve I’d wanted to hit.
Even though I did my best to ignore him, Ryan made the remainder of the flight pure hell. If I didn’t already know his age, I’d swear he was a toddler with the way he continued to kick my seat and how he constantly flagged his ‘favorite’ flight attendant down and tried to rub his flirting in my face.
Pathetic.
The douche was absolutely pathetic.
And I could not see how a nice guy like Lucas could be friends with such a dirtbag.
Deciding that it wasn’t worth wasting the effort on, I continued to deny Ryan’s need for my attention by putting in my earbuds and cranking up my 80’s metal playlist—Thank you Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It!”—while reading the latest top-selling bodice ripper.
By the time the flight landed, I was glad to be rid of the asshole. That didn’t mean that I didn’t have a plan in mind to torture him a bit more before we said goodbye forever . . .
