Not long after, Ryke catches up to my side again, and then he taps my shoulder and veers off the collegiate track towards the bleachers. I follow him, trying to avoid the other athletes in Penn shirts as they sprint down the lanes.
I probably shouldn’t have driven all the way to Penn to run around a fucking circle with Ryke, seeing as how I was expelled and he’s not my favorite person at the moment. I don’t believe that he’s the guy threatening to reveal Lily’s secret to the tabloids. There’s mistrust in our relationship, sure, but he spends too much time driving me to therapy and hanging out with me to have some ulterior motive. He could let me ride alone to New York and give me just enough slack to hang myself with.
He could be uncaring.
But Ryke Meadows is many things—uncaring is definitely not one of them.
I gave him a hard time about the text messages because I’m an asshole, and a huge part of me resents him for things that I can barely process. Each time I try to understand his childhood where he knew about me and had contact with my father, my hands shake for a sip of something strong.
I unscrew my water bottle, and two girls approach us, one brunette, the other blonde. Both wear cross-countryshirts. I’m surrounded by athletes right now—Ryke being one of them.
“Hey, Ryke,” the blonde says. “Who’s your friend?” She looks me over from head to toe.
I try to wear disinterest, drinking my water, shuffling through my gym bag, anything.
“My brother,” Ryke says so easily. I can barely admit that he’s half of my brother to Lily. Saying that we’re related is so easy for him. But I have to remind myself that he knew about me for years. He just never voiced the truth until three months ago.
“Oh yeah, I see the resemblance,” she says, her blue eyes flickering between us.
“Yeah, we both have brown hair,” I say. “Shocking, isn’t it? She could even be our sister for all I know.” I gesture to the brunette hanging by the blonde’s side. My tone is not even close to friendly. And I can’t help it. This is how I normally say hi to people. My manners died somewhere around my eleventh birthday.
The blonde lets out a small laugh, trying to blow over my rudeness.
Ryke sets a hand on my shoulder, and he whispers, “Do me a favor and don’t talk.”
If he wants to hook up with one of them, by all means. Have at them. I’m not going to be his wingman on this one. I have a girl waiting for me at home. I check my watch. Yeah, she should be back from class right about now. I’d rather be there than here. I’d rather be holding her in my arms, even if I have to tell hernoby the end of it.
She’s the only good thing in my life.
“This is Laura,” the blonde says, bringing her friend towards Ryke. “She’s a freshman. I thought I’d introduce her to the captain of the track team.”
Ryke checks her out with a slow once-over. The girl is almost as thin as Lily, but muscles pad her legs and arms—they’re just lean like most runners. “How have you liked Penn so far?” Ryke asks.
The girl shrugs, shifting her weight off one leg and to another. “Oh…you know.”
Ryke does that to women, I’ve noticed. He either stupefies them with his dominance or they start spitting out lame lines that make no sense.
I’ve yet to really see a girl that can keep up with him.
“That good, huh?” Ryke says, trying to be nice, but this only causes her face to redden.
“It’s been good.” Laura nods.
This is just awkward and slightly painful. I can’t watch the girl be debilitated by embarrassment and nerves anymore. Ryke is slowly peeling off a Band-Aid. I’m going to rip the damn thing for her.
“Hey, Laura,” I say. “You and your friend are on the cross-country team, right?”
Laura nods again.
“I’m Maggie,” the blonde says, perking now that I’ve shown a tad bit of interest.
“Oh great,” I say. “So you and Laura will have no problem runningthatway.” I point to the other side of the track.
Maggie’s face falls.
I flash a smile. “Bye.”
“Asshole,” she curses. “Come on, Laura.” She grabs her hand and shoots Ryke a look, guilty by association. When they disappear, Ryke turns to me with a glare.
