I peel out of the parking lot, not giving her or her threat another thought.
7
Arian
“So, I guess this means you don’t want to sign up for the boosters.”
I glare at Vee through the misty rainbow above the spray of water. Then I imperiously go back to hosing down my car.
Her hands fly up. “Understood. Clearly.”
Nothing could convince me to sign up for a group whose soul mission is to celebrate—no, worship—a football team. The very team who’s responsible for why we’re both here at a carwash soaking ourselves in soapy water. I’ve been drenched twice now. Out in the cold.
I know her comment is a joke, meant to calm me down and put things into perspective. But I’ve been fuming ever since we left campus.
I’m not yet ready for jokes.
Only… “How close do the boosters actually get to the team?”
Vee pauses, the soppy sponge in her hand drizzling sudsy rivulets down the hood of my car. She looks up at me. “What is your wicked brain concocting?”
I shrug, then hang the hose on a hook along the cement wall and grab my own sponge.
“No, A.” The soft lines of her forehead crease. “Let it go. Just let it go.”
I want to believe she’s worried about my welfare—which I do, ultimately. She’s a very caring person. In the short time I’ve known her, I’ve seen her devote her free time to many small acts of kindness. She affects a tough and feisty demeanor, but she’s also one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. Unselfish and with a huge heart.
But I also know that if there’s one thing to trigger a girl’s needy, greedy side, it’s a guy. And if I do anything to piss off the team—well, more than I already have by humiliating their starting quarterback—that means pissing off Gavin, too. Maybe even crushing any chance Vee has with him. Because she’s too good a friend to abandon me, she’ll go down right alongside me.
I don’t want that for her. I may think the football team as a whole is a bunch of misogynistic a-holes, but Vee’s allowed to have her own opinion of Gavin. I won’t allow her to be any part of this. I refuse to tarnish her rep.
For a minute, while I scrub the dried milk from the silver paint, I weigh the outcome. I should probably listen to her and let this go. Really, it’s just a dumb prank—only, it’s more than that to me. My whole life, I’ve bowed out in the midst of any confrontation. With my parents, teachers, peers. I carved a secluded little section in the world for myself, content to exist solo. Just so long as no one looked too closely.
I’ve known guys like Ryder most of my life. Even dated them. Hell, if he has any real money at all and didn’t play football, my father might even arrange our marriage—he’s just the type my father would endorse. Only, Ryder doesn’t act the part. He’s too…rough around the edges. Not polished like a socialite.
A brief image flits before my vision. Ryder’s clear blue eyes studying me, as if he wanted to know me. His broad shoulders, corded, muscular arms, the squinty corners of his eyes, dark hair falling over his forehead. That moment when we first made eye contact.
The callused skin of his fingers as the grazed my skin. Hands that have seen hard work.
Warmth pools in my stomach, and I forcefully push the memory away. I can’t deny the guy has it. He’s every girl’s wet dream. I’d have to be blind not to acknowledge that he’s hot. And for a split second in the lunch line, when he gazed at me, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. I truly wanted him to be interested in me—and I allowed myself that small hope too soon before reality crushed it.
All my future prospects are only interested in marrying Jonathan Wyndemere’s daughter. I’m a name without a face. But Ryder saw me. Or at least, I thought he did. Then everything just got so ugly and went all wrong.
Besides, he’s a jock. It’s not just a title, or a cliché. It’s who he really is; how he views the world. His world. As if it belongs solely to him, and everyone merely exists to orbit around his sun.
Just like Stephan.
My three-month detour into narcissistic jock world that lef
t me reeling, on the brink of self-loathing.
“Ari.” Vee’s questioning voice pulls me from my downward spiraling thoughts. “You’re not really thinking of retaliation, are you?”
I toss the sponge into the bucket of soapy water. “No, I’m not, Vee. I’ll get over it.”
She nods slowly, watching me, trying to figure out if I mean it. Then, “Well, hey. Maybe joining the boosters would put a stop to all this. I mean, they couldn’t very well keep picking on one of their own, ya know?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you trying to gaslight me?”