Page 185 of How to Lose at Love

So hot.

So sexy.

forty-nine

ryann

“Bitch, don’t kill my vibe.”

– Winnie to Sav

“CanI talk to you for a minute?”

The voice comes out of nowhere, scaring the bejesus out of me.

I whip my head around to search for the source, and my spine instantaneously goes ramrod straight.

Tiffany.

Ugh.

Of all the times for her to come beelining for me, this is not it. We have to get going, and she is the last person in the free world he wants to see, especially talking tome.

I walk past her, destination Dallas’s truck—not wanting the confrontation I feel may be impending; why else would Tiffany be lurking in the shadows and lumbering toward me from her front porch? She was obviously waiting for me to come outside.

She does not, however, cross into the boys’ yard.

In three seconds, Dallas is going to come bounding out of that front door, I want to tell her.And when he does, you won’t want to be anywhere around…

“Please?” she pleads.

I ignore her.

“Ryann.Please.”

Her familiar use of my name is what gives me pause and has me stopping in the center of the sidewalk.

“This will only take a minute, I swear.”

I’m not a complete asshole and I do have feelings and believe in second chances—not that stopping to talk to her means I’m giving her one, but now that she’s chasing me down, I’m curious to hear what she has to say.

Plus, either Tiffany lacks the self-awareness not to approach me, knowing I have no interest in being friendly, OR she may be genuinely sorry.

I want to know which it is, and I won’t know unless I stop to talk to her.

Right?

Right.

When I hesitate on the sidewalk, she knows I’m willing to talk, stepping forward and making haste across her yard, not stopping until she’s in front of me.

I cross, then uncross my arms, cross them again, finally deciding to stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket while I wait for her to get to her point.

My eyes stray to the door.

Dallas has it open, freezing when he sees me on the lawn with Tiffany, but he doesn’t come forward after I hold a hand up with an unspoken,I’m good, it’s fine.

Still, he watches from the door like a sentinel, not budging from his perch, eyeing us like a hawk.

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