Page 53 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

He snorts. “Yeah. You really are.”

It’s weirdly sincere, the way he says it.

I look up. He’s watching my mouth. That fact burns a hole straight through me.

So that’s what Ryan wants. He’s not the only one.

I reach out, touch his arm gently, and pull him to a stop.

“Wren,” he says, almost warning.

I shush him. “You know you want to.”

“I want to do a lot of things,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Dirty things. Stuff you wouldn’t be interested in.”

I lick my lips and step closer. “Who says I wouldn’t be?”

Thank God it’s dark and there’s no streetlight nearby, because I’m blushing like a maniac. His eyes widen.

“You…”

A horn blares.

Cora’s Mercedes rolls up. Iris leans out the passenger window. “Hey! You guys want a ride?”

I drop my hand and turn toward the car. “You go ahead,” Ryan says, stepping back. “I forgot something inside.”

He walks off fast. Like, faster than I’ve ever seen him move.

I turn toward the car, disappointment practically tattooed across my face. Iris sees it immediately and murmurs, “Well. Shit.”

I shoot her a glare and climb into the back seat, hands still shaking.

I don’t know what’s worse. That Ryan didn’t kiss me…

Or that I wanted him to so badly.

I’ve been called many things. Stubborn. A know-it-all.That weird girl who lives in my dorm, according to the irritating roommate I was paired with freshman year.

But reckless isn’t one of those things. Yet now, I am downright self-ruinous. And over what? A hot guy with dreamy blue eyes and a smile that won’t quit?

I have to get my head on straight or I’m doomed.

fourteen

RYAN

Waffle House is exactlythe same as it’s always been, with crowded booths and a few stools at the bar facing the kitchen. No matter how broke I was as a kid, I could usually afford a cup of coffee and a plate of hash browns. I’ve been meeting Coach T here since before my parents split up, before my mom walked out and left us alone, before I tried to make it on my own, before being placed with the coach.

He’s a man who knows everything about me. All the messy, ugly bits. Still shows up when I call. There’s something priceless in that.

He’s the only man who ever looked at me like I wasn’t broken. Like maybe I could become someone. When I was a kid, Coach T treated me with a firm respect that resonates with me to this day. Even now, part of me wants him to fix it, to tell me what the hell to do.

He slides into the booth across from me and inhales. “Smells good in here.”

The scent of fried bacon and fresh coffee hangs thick in the air. It’s all familiar. Too familiar, really. I hate how much I need that right now.

Last night, I walked away from her. Because staying? Letting myself have what I wanted? That would’ve wrecked me. Hell, it already has.