Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(24)

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.”

“Look, it’s not meant as criticism.” I take a step back, needing to put more space between us so I can think. “That’s a lot of guys. Most guys, actually.”

He chuckles. “Damn, that’s even worse. You think I’m most guys.”

“This isn’t going anywhere, Ryder. We’re talking circles around each other—”

“Yeah, but we are talking.” He cocks an eyebrow, his feet eating the distance between us quickly. My breath stutters hot against my lips as I try to breathe normally. “That’s the only way to get from point A to point B.”

My head tilts. “See, again with the conquest. Like I’m something to be conquered.”

“No…I didn’t… Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just can’t articulate around you. Everything comes out…wrong. Just wrong. Be patient, okay? I obviously need a little leniency here.”

Despite my unease, I feel a smile tug at my mouth. “Fair enough.” I wave my hand through the air, prompting him on. “Take your time.”

With a determined nod, that’s so sincere it’s adorable, making my chest stir with heat, he says, “Give me a do-over.”

“Huh?”

He chuckles. “I completely botched that first encounter. And I know that you don’t get any take-backs…but I’d like a shot to prove I’m not the scum you think I am.”

Is he asking me on a date? “Like, a date?” Did I just blurt that? Crap.

He simply nods. “It’s a date, then. When?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t immediately say no.”

God. I glance around, as if someone or something will suddenly appear and save me. I feel trapped, but it’s not at all…bad. I just don’t know if I can handle him. My willpower is fading too fast.

“Um, let me think about it,” I say, starting to back away toward my bag.

“I’ll take it.”

Before I leave, I look back at Ryder once. Just to take a mental snapshot of him bench-pressing the weights; arms taut and corded hard, legs spread on the bench, face gorgeous even as he strains. Wow, but I’ll regret this. I never learn.





12





Ryder





Coach Carson busted my balls all during practice. Although I don’t blame him—my head wasn’t in it, my arm not accepting orders from my brain—it’s put me in an off mood.