Page 14 of A Game of Ruck
I shrug and look out the window.
“It’s not ever blatant.My father is the head of Martinez Global Industries, and most of my family works for him.So, are they outright nasty?No.Nothing too obvious that would get them blacklisted from my Dad.”
“So, he’s a good father?”
“Yeah, he is.Or he tries to be.I mean, Dad loves me.I know that.He’s just a very important man with a very busy schedule.”
“I see,” Luca whispers, and something about the way he says it tells me he does.
Curiouser and curiouser.
“Anyway,” I say, swirling the condensation on my glass with a fingertip, “I don’t even really blame my cousins.I’m just not the traditional Martinez daughter.I don’t look like them.I didn’t go into tech?—”
“No?”Luca interrupts, brow raised.“Whatdidyou study in school?”
“You’re gonna laugh.”
“Will not,” he says, full lips twitching like he already knows I’m about to test him.
“Fine.I studied literature.”
“Ahhh,” he grins, tilting his head.“A romantic.”
I narrow my eyes at him, suspicious.“That was very judge-y, Luca.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”He leans in like he’s letting me in on a secret.“Explains the big eyes and the tragic sighs.”
I swat at his arm, laughing despite myself.
“I donotsigh tragically.”
“You do, Angel.I’ve seen it.Just now when you said,‘traditional Martinez daughter,’I felt like I was watching the heroine of a forbidden love story.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, hiding my face behind my hands.“Why are you like this?”
“Gifted,” he says with a wink.“Cursed with charisma.”
I laugh, but there’s a little twist in my gut, too.Because for once, someone’s teasing me without making me feel like the butt of the joke.
“Anyway,” I continue, “after college I started an online magazine.”
“Really?”
He sounds surprised.But not condescending.Curious.
“Yeah.It’s for plus-size women.I wanted to create a space that promotes body positivity, talks about things like fashion, health, and nutrition—without all the toxicthinspirationcrap.Because fat doesn’t always mean lazy or unhealthy or whatever people assume when they look at me.”
His face softens.
“First, I don’t think you have any idea what most people think when they look at you, Angel.Second, you don’t have to tell me about the misgivings normal people have about health and exercise and how that translates to the way a person looks.”
His voice is quieter now, more serious.
“I mean, I’m an athlete.I’ve seen teammates with six-packs who can’t jog a mile without gasping.And I’ve seen guys with bulkier builds, truedad bods, outrun half the team.Health doesn’t come in a single size.”
I blink.Because no one’s ever said that to me.
Not like this.Not a hot-as-sin rugby player with arms like carved granite and eyes that make me forget how to breathe.
