“Brownies,” he says casually.
I blink a few times before speaking. “Can’t ha—”
“I reminded her about the nut allergy,” he interjects, playfully rolling his eyes. “I don’t forget shit like that.” He expectantly holds a plastic container out for me to take it. I swear he has the memory of an elephant.
“Thank you.”
I don’t hesitate to pop the lid and bite into one, which draws a laugh from him. Next thing I know, my arm drops as the ball once tucked beneath it is stolen and there’s nothing I can do about it, because … brownies.
Links of the chain connecting the wallet in his pocket to his belt loop make a clanking sound when he shoots. Of course, the ball swooshes into the basket on his first try. Freakin’ show off.
“Not ‘working’ today?” The question leaves my mouth snidely, and he doesn’t miss it.
Another shot sinks into the basket, then he passes a look over his shoulder with a knowing smile. His idea of ‘working’ and mine are oceans apart. In fact, it’s the same ocean that caused our breakup, and it will be the same ocean that ensures we’ll never revisit what we had.
“Nah, I’m off today. Pays to know the boss,” he teases, referencing his uncle, Paul.
Ricky’s been ‘running errands’ for the guy since he was about thirteen. This is right around the time Uncle Paul took Hunter under his wing, once our father proved to be useless. Unfortunately, though, Paul isn’t exactly a stand-up citizen. Some actually argue that he’s at the heart of everything wrong with South Cypress. Well, him and his connections across the city.
Another ball goes in and I snatch it back while swallowing the last of the brownie I wolfed down.
“Good for you,” I say with a disinterested sigh. “You should probably take off then. You know, enjoy having the day to yourself. Guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
Before Ricky can even get a sentence out, I climb a few of the porch steps, heading toward the back door. Only, the light hold on my wrist halts me. The touch is gentle, but acts as a reminder of being grabbed by West earlier. I snatch away and my eyes dart toward Ricky and I’m fully aware that I’m projecting anger meant for West toward the wrong guy. However, I’m too proud to apologize.
His head cocks and I know what he’s about to say. “You good? I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just need you to hold up for a sec.”
An exhausted sigh escapes and I force my frustration to subside. At least momentarily. “It’s just been a long day,” is the only explanation I give, which is an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.
Staring out at the rusted garage door where my rim hangs, I prop myself against the rail. Ricky’s staring, but I refuse to meet his gaze. Instead, I focus on the black web of telephone and electrical wires that zigzag back and forth from the roof of the house, to the wooden posts that tower in the alley.
“I think—”
“Not in the mood to hear what you think,” I cut in, still refusing to meet his gaze.
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” he counters with a laugh.
It’s so hard to rattle him, which I used to love and hate. But when he’s pushed, there’s a ruthless side no one, including me, wants to see.
When I don’t take the bait, he takes a different approach. One I didn’t see coming by a mile.
“Wouldn’t expect a girl who’s about to lockdown the king of the north to be in such a shitty mood.” There’s an undertone of amusement in his voice that annoys the hell out of me. He’s grinning when I finally level a look down on him from the steps.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The words fly from my mouth like fiery darts, filled with suspicion.
Before answering, he pulls the phone from his pocket and scrolls. When the screen is turned toward me, my stomach sinks at the sight of that pink and black, tiger-striped icon.
“Folks seem to think there’s a hookup in your future,” Ricky adds.
So many thoughts flash in my head, most of which would end in an angry rant about what I just went through after orientation, but these aren’t the kinds of things I share with Ricky. We aren’t friends. We aren’t anything but exes, so I hold it all in.
Jules, on the other hand, will certainly be getting an earful the second I make it inside the house and dial her number.
“Following gossip apps now, Ruiz? Seems a little beneath you.”
He laughs, but it’s a bit more subdued than before. Like, maybe his ego is slightly wounded with whatever he thinks he knows about this whole West situation. I’ve been super cold toward Ricky these past few months, so there’s some guilt lurking beneath the surface, prompting me to ease up a little.
“It’s not like … whatever they’re trying to portray. Trust me,” is all I say, but I leave out the part about those bastards separating me from the herd to threaten me.
I don’t need Ricky’s pity or whatever reaction he might have. My problems are not his problems, despite what he thinks.
“If you say so,” he replies with a slick grin, like he thinks there’s more to this story. I suppose there is, but it’s nothing like what he’s imagining.
“I’m not talking to you about this,” I say, shutting down that portion of the conversation.
There’s a brief standoff where I feel him wanting to press, but he refrains, which is lucky for me. Instead, he changes the subject, but of course he brings up the one other thing I refuse to discuss with him.
“Your brother’s still asking for you. Every
