I smile at that. “I saw him in the hallway, running late because he forgot his water bottle.”
“He’s good at forgetting stuff, too.” He smiles as we reach an iron gate. “And is slow to respond to text messages.”
“What’s he good at then?” I wonder as he grabs the gate handle and pulls it open.
“Flirting, football, pretending he doesn’t give a shit when he really does.” He walks through and lets the gate swing shut behind him. “He’s a good guy, though. A bit flakey, but he can be a good friend if you don’t mind dealing with that.”
“I can be flakey sometimes, too. But that’s mostly because I’m not used to having obligations. Well, except for track and school. Those are choices, though.”
“Your parents don’t give you any rules?” He treads cautiously as we stop on a grassy section beside the track. Beside one of the few benches nearby is a green bag and a jacket lying on the ground.
“My mother had one rule for me, and that was not to be seen or heard. If I obeyed that, everything was peachy.” I set my bag down beside his. “Of course, when I got older, she changed the rules and wanted me to be seen and heard while I was talking to her. You got a glimpse of that while I was in jail.”
He rubs his hand. “What about your dad?”
My heart rate increases at the mention of my father, because not only is he a terrible man, but he’s the root of most of the problems weeding my life right now.
“You know, you don’t need to talk about him if you don’t want to,” River says, as if reading my emotions.
“Thanks.” I shake off the anxiety creeping up on me and plaster on a cheery smile. “So, what exactly are we doing on this fine, sunny morning?” I peer up at the sky and note dark clouds looming in the distance. “Or I guess I should say a partly sunny morning that has the potential to get all stormy.”
“Don’t tell me the girl who handed Finn his ass while we were all in jail is afraid of running in a little bit of rain,” River teases me with a grin.
Holy hell, this is the first time I’ve seen his teasing grin, and it is absolutely gorgeous. I manage to keep a level head, though.
“I did hand him his ass, didn’t I?”
Laughter slips from his lips. “You really did.” He walks over to the green bag and opens it up. “I’m pretty sure no girl has ever smarted off to him like you did.” He takes out a bottle of water. “You should have heard him on the way home. He was rambling about it the entire way.” He tips his head back and takes a long swig before dropping the bottle back into the bag.
“Well, then I guess that night wasn’t an entire loss because that makes me kind of happy inside.” I waver. “Although, weirdly, even though my mother blew off bailing me out, someone else did. So, I guess that’s a positive, too. Being in jail definitely wasn’t.” An idea occurs to me, one that’s a long shot, but it’s worth trying. “When you guys got bailed out, you didn’t by chance see or hear some rando there mentioning my name and giving the cashier lady some money for my bail, did you?”
He shakes his head. “Why?”
“Because the person who bailed me out wanted to remain anonymous, which is not only driving me crazy, but it’s so weird. Nothing good like that ever happens to me.” I hold up a finger. “Again, I’m not referring to being in jail as a good thing, but someone bailing me out with no strings attached is definitely not something that ever happens to me. And I’ve been in jail a couple of times.”
“Really? For what?” he asks curiously as he grabs the neck of his tank top and pulls it off.
I try not to stare at the lean muscles carving his arms, but wow … just wow.
I tear my gaze off of him. “Fights, mostly. They weren’t started by me.” I slip my fingers into the hem of my sweatpants and pull them down. Then I shuck off my hoodie
This is the first time I’ve worn clothes that put my tattoos on display, and his eyes rove all over me as he takes in the ink curling up my upper thigh, a series of intricate lines and shadings that form a wolf with a moon and tear drop. I also have another one on my shoulder of a raven with purple-tinted feathers and flowers trimming it.
“So, are we going to work out, or are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?” I tease.
He blinks at me, his cheeks flushing. And holy hell, I never thought a blushing guy could be hot, but on River, the look is.
“Sorry.” He gives a slight shake of his head, as if attempting to shake whatever thoughts he was having out of his mind. “I’m just not used to seeing tattoos on … well, anyone really.”
“Rich people don’t get tats?” I question with a cock of my head.
“Not really,” he replies. When I continue to stare at him, confuddled, he tacks on, “Many of our parents view tattoos as like a gateway drug to becoming troublemakers that will tarnish their family’s name.”
I snort a laugh. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Agreed.” He leans over to stretch, and while he’s not paying attention, I check out the lean muscles that line his back. The moment he straightens, I divert my gaze to the ground and hurry and go into a stretching pose.
Seriously, can I be any more obvious?
