Page 65 of Fighting Spirit

“Yes,” I answer without thinking. I’m always happier around Ruth.

“Then ask.”

“It’s not that easy. She’s still feeling weird about the kiss.”

“I’m not saying you do another kidnap-”

“I didn’t do any kidnapping the first time,” I cut in.

“You supervised.”

“Unwillingly!” I throw my hands up. “I was as much a victim as she was.”

Trevor’s stare makes me realize how stupid that sounded, and I wince.

“You’d only be asking the question,” he offers, his voice gentle. “You deserve to have someone in your corner for once.”

“Then you come!”

“Fuck no,” he snorts. “I love you man, but you gotta get your girl to tap in on this one.”

“She’s not my girl.” I level him with a glower.

He just waggles his eyebrows and turns on the blender, cutting off any more argument.

I sigh. Maybe he’s right? Maybe bringing Ruth isn’t such a bad idea? I mean, sure, she might never speak to me again after I inflict my dad on her, but maybe it’ll go the other way? Maybe it’ll be so horrible that we can do a little trauma bonding and get over the awkwardness that’s been dogging us?

I know I’m just trying to find an excuse because, as much as I don’t want to admit it, Trevor’s right. I’ll have a better time if she’s there. I’m pretty sure I’d have a better time doing just about anything if she’s around.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

RUTH

I’ve been trying really hard not to think about Rowan, or at least to only think about him in a purely platonic, extremely non-horny way. But he doesn’t make it easy when he sends me random memes, or texts me to ask about my day, or when I see clips of his games and the way he looks in those pants.

I know what he’s doing; he’s not the kind of guy to ask idle questions. He’s trying to make me feel better. It’s as if he’s trying to dispel any lingering awkwardness through sheer force of will. I’m almost there. I can just about say his name without an inferno of embarrassment choking me, just so long as I don’t let myself think about that night.

We haven’t seen each other in person since he came over. I thought about offering to go to him; I felt bad about him always being the one to make an effort to travel, but I didn’t want to seem presumptuous. That and I don’t have a car.

When he calls after eleven days, I’m in the bathroom, face three inches from the mirror as I try to pluck a particularly stubborn eyebrow hair. I almost knock the phone into the sink, only saving it at the last second. I scramble to hit accept as I turn off the faucet, holding the phone with my shoulder as I set down the glass of water I keep in here to take my medication.

“Hi!” I say brightly, hoping I don’t sound like someone who briefly considered flushing her phone down the toilet.

“Do you want to come to a football game with me and my dad?” He rushes the words out like he’s trying not to lose his nerve.

“Excuse me?”

“We go every year. He went to Northridge; he likes to take me the first time they play Raleigh.”

“Okay?” I’m completely lost. I haven’t heard his voice in nearly two weeks, and now he wants me to meet his dad?

“It’s his thing, but it’s always kinda awkward. We don’t have the best relationship.”

I pause, letting my brain catch up. “Why do you go?” Rowan doesn’t strike me as somebody in the habit of doing stuff he doesn’t want to do.

“I dunno.” He sighs. “I guess I keep hoping that things might be better? Plus, it makes my mom happy.”

I frown, hating the thought of him being in such a shitty situation. “And you want me there, why?”

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