Page 42 of Rush

“If you like that kind of thing.”

Wow. Thanks, quarterback.

“Um…pretty face, great ass. Sure, her rack’s not huge, but there’s a definite handful there.”

“You have issues. Like, seriously, you should talk to a doctor.”

A chuckle. “Look, all I heard is that she’s been seen in your car a lot this past week, and if I’m hearing, so is Coach.”

“So? All I’m doing is giving her a ride home.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

It’s Ares’s turn to laugh. “Don’t be a dick, Thompson.” Ah, so it’s the fullback he’s in there with. “Ari doesn’t have her license anymore, and she was taking the bus. I live in the city, not far from her, so I offered to drive her.”

There’s a pause. Then, “So, you’re really not hittin’ it?”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

And the compliments just keep coming.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Fuck you.” Ares chuckles. “And, no, I’m not hittin’ it.”

“Then, you are as stupid as you look, quarterback. ’Cause, if I were single, I’d be tapping that in a heartbeat.”

“Nah. She’s Coach’s daughter. That’s a recipe for disaster in itself. And all the shit that went down with her earlier this year…she has baggage a mile wide. And baggage doesn’t interest me.”

Pearl Jam’s “Black” is playing in Ares’s truck. And it’s apt because it’s the color of my mood right now.

“Baggage doesn’t interest me.”

The words have been on repeat in my head all day, and I’ve been getting angrier and angrier.

I don’t know why it bothers me so much. It’s not like I’m interested in him in that way.

Sure you’re not, Ari. You keep telling yourself that.

Fine. I do like him. A little bit. But I know he has no interest in me in that way, so I’m not paying attention to my feelings. Instead, I’m tamping them down.

And, yes, it stung when I heard he wasn’t interested in me. More so because I had baggage.

But, mostly, I’m pissed because I don’t like being the topic of conversation for him and his buddy while they’re doing reps.

It’s disrespectful.

Yeah, but it’s not like he respects you. Remember how he used to talk to you? The things he said?

I know, but I thought things had changed after that night with Kyle. I thought he saw the real me now. Not just the screwed-up girl who’s clinging on by her fingernails to stay sober.

But, clearly, nothing has changed. He still sees me that way.

I didn’t want to ride home with him tonight. But I also didn’t want him to know I’d overheard.

So, here I am, sitting in his truck.

Angry and hurt and a million other things. Fingers curled into my palms in quiet contemplation.