Despite my attempt not to look at him, I still witness his head jerk in my direction. “Ari.”
I release a heavy breath through my nose, calming. Centering. “Yeah, well, if you’ve finally decided to address me properly, and not like I’m something to be devoured…” I cringe. Did I really just say that? I should have clarified the carrot cake. I absolutely do not look at him. “Then, I guess you can call me what everyone else does.” I shrug.
A small smile hikes one corner of his mouth. “I like it. I like it even more that you’re the one offering it to me.”
“It’s just a name.”
He laughs. “It’s a great name. Beautiful, and fitting. I mean, it’s not as great as say, Ryder, of course. But hey, still an awesome name.” He smiles, and I roll my eyes. “You always downplay stuff. Why is that?” He cocks his head, paused, hovering over the bench before adding another weight. How much does he bench? My gaze travels over his flexed biceps, wondering… When I don’t respond, or can’t, because I don’t really know the answer, he says, “Anyway. I see we have this much in common.”
“Great names?” I’m suddenly incapable of saying more than two- or three-word sentences. Like my brain got knocked out through my butt and sucked into the treadmill during the fall. Or maybe I?
??ve finally worn myself out, too tired to deal with his head games.
No, I doubt that. He makes me too hyperaware. I’m always forced on guard.
“Well that, too, but I was talking about working out at night.” He puts the clamp on the bar and then straddles the bench. “I usually have this place all to myself.”
“Sorry I encroached on your turf.” I hit the button to slow the walker even more.
“Damn. You’d think for someone who just got one over on the most notorious pranksters of college football, you’d be flying high right now.” He wraps his fingers around the bar, adjusts his grip to get a proper hold. I can’t help but notice the way his muscles tighten, his sinewy arms strained as he lowers himself to the bench. Why do all the assholes have to be the hot ones?
Because, of course, they know they're hot and think they can act any way they want, I remind myself—a nice splash of cold water to ground me.
I continue walking at a steady pace, but a small smile curls my lips despite my best attempt. “The joke wasn’t to make you guys actually wear the thongs, you know.” My smile takes over my face as I remember how Ryder and his teammates waddled onto the field.
He does a few reps then sets the bar on the holder. Sits up. “I know. But I figured the guys deserved the full weight of their punishment. And even though I really didn’t have anything to do with what happened to your car, or your drink”—his gaze snags and holds mine—“I paid my dues for what I did say and do at the bonfire.”
My feet miss a step, and I quickly correct my pace. He’s lying. Maybe. Or he’s just trying to lower my defenses; set me up for something bigger. But as his gaze intensifies, I’m trapped there. Caught in his sight, believing him.
“Why didn’t you tell me that it wasn’t you who condom bombed my car?”
Finally dropping his eyes, he shrugs. “Would you have believed me?”
No, I think inwardly. “Maybe.”
“Liar,” he calls me out.
I laugh and step off the treadmill. “Yeah, okay. I was a little pissed that day.”
He pinches his fingers together closely. “Just a little.”
“I was livid, all right? And…” I trail off, bending over to pick up my towel and also avoid his eyes. “You called me a bitch before. So I just knew….” I shrug. “You weren’t done tormenting me yet.”
He’s silent, and I use the awkward moment to wipe my forehead. Thankful I took my makeup off before I got here. What’s worse than being seen without makeup? Being seen with it bleeding and bubbling all over your face.
“Ari…”
My spine stiffens at his inflective tone. “I didn’t mean anything, Ryder. Whatever. No big deal.”
When he speaks again, he’s closer. I can almost feel his body against mine, like electricity crackling off a powerful conductor. “I didn’t mean it. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s just something dumb-ass guys say when they’re mad. Or upset. Or scared.” I turn to see him lacing his arms over his chest. “It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. Anger is our go-to reaction for every emotion.”
I nod. “All right. Well, sorry I threw beer in your face and outed to the whole school that you’d never claim me among your conquests.”
His mouth presses into a tight line. I hear his hard exhale. “You think that really matters to me? What they think?” He moves closer still. “That I’m really some cliché jock who cares about his rep?”
I force myself to be honest right back. “Well, yeah.”
“Ouch.”