Page 69 of How to Lose at Love

Outside of Ryann’s apartment building, I debate: should I go inside and grab her or wait for her to come out? Perhaps I should get my ass down out of the truck and go to the do—

The front door opens.

There she is.

I sigh, leaning back in my seat, relaxing. Wait for her to come to me.

Crisis averted.

She’s wearing another jacket over a pair of jeans, and I think those are heels but can’t quite tell because it’s dark out and the overhead lights are total crap.

Should I get out and open the passenger side door?

This isn’t a real date…

But still.

Once again, I debate the dilemma for so long Ryann is already pulling the truck door open and hopping up, slamming it behind her. Reaches for the seat belt.

“Sorry, I was gonna come get you, but you beat me to it,” I blurt out, explaining away my bad etiquette.

It’s dark in the cab of my truck, so I can’t get a look at her, but I catch her nod. Catch her tip her head back and lean it back against the seat.

“Ugh,” she moans. “I’m so tired.”

Yeah, same. My body is beaten down from all the practice and conditioning. I’m drained from waking up early and going to class. I’m drained because I’ve been eating my meals on the fly and haven’t had decent home-cooked food since I was home with my mama this summer.

I don’t tell her any of this.

Complaining isn’t my style.

“Did you at least eat?” The last thing I want to do is take her to a party when she has an empty stomach; not sure Schneider will have any food, and he sure as shit won’t want me digging through his cabinets.

In fact, some people keep actual locks on them so when they throw parties, their stashes don’t get eaten—but that’s not the point. The point is, I should feed Ryann if she’s hungry.

Don’t need a drunken mess on my hands later.

“I had a burger at work.” She pauses. “And fries.” Pause. “And a few chicken tenders.”

I shoot her a side-eye. “Do you dip those tenders in anything?”

She nods. “Ranch, usually.”

“What about the fries?”

“Ketchup and mayonnaise.”

I nod.

“Why?”

“Just seein’ if we’re compatible in other ways.”

“And what are your findings?”

“Yup.”

Ryann looks out the window as we make our way to Schneider’s off-campus dump—I mean, house. It’s a big home but run-down, and I’ll be honest, no way in hell would you catch me sleeping there. Place should be condemned, but Schneider loves to throw parties, and you can’t very well do that in a house that’s decent.

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