Page 26 of Rust

“Wowww! No, I didn’t text him, but now I kinda wish I had!” Farrah laughed. “He sent you a text while I was filming you squat.”

“What’d he say?!” I asked, and hurried to unlock my phone.

“I dunno! I’m not a snoop.”

I was in such a hurry to read Rust’s text message, I fumbled my phone, dropping it to the car floor. At last, steady hands prevailed, and I read Rust’s text.

“Hey Isabelle. This is Rust. Still up for dog sitting while I’m on the road?”

I let out a happy sigh, melted in my car seat, and dreamily stared into the distance.

April took her eyes off the road long enough to look over at me, and immediately squealed with laughter. “Whoa, girl! What just happened? You look blissed out!”

Farrah popped her head between the front seats to get a look at me. She laughed, too. “Iz, get it together, honey. You look like you just creamed your Lulu’s.”

The three of exploded into laughter.

Fact of the matter was, though, she wasn’t far off the mark. Just getting a text message from Rust made that night at the arena come back to life—his salty, manly scent; the way he looked at me with desire burning in his eyes; the electric charge sizzling between our bodies.Ugh,thinking about Rust got me so worked up—

“Yo. Izzy.” April snapped her fingers in front of my face to snap me out of my trance. “Wake up.”

“Damn, she’s got it bad,” Farrah said. “Okay, so who is he?”

“Rust Walker,” April said, answering on my behalf.

“And who’s that?” Farrah asked.

“Some old hockey guy Izzy’s obsessed with.”

“Aprohockey player?!” Farrah asked, excited.

I laughed the accusation off. “April, I amnotobsessed.”

“You definitelywereback in the day,” she said, giggling. “I mean, my God, Izzy.Youremember. I don’t have to tell you.”

“Also, Rust is not old, he’s older,” I said, making a distinction that felt important to me.

“How old is he?” Farrah asked.

“Oh, I dunno. He’s thirty-something, I think?”

Farrah snickered. “Can’t fool me, Iz. You knowexactlyhow old this guy is.”

Busted, I thought, grinning to myself. “Fine. He’s thirty-seven.”

I loved the way that number felt as it rolled off my tongue. It was powerful, distinguished, and wise—and I felt sexy just speakingit aloud. Of course it wasn’t the number alone I was enamored with; the number itself would be meaningless, except for the fact that it was Rust’s age. I loved thinking about the gap in years between us. It was one of the many things that made Rust so off-limits, so irresistible, andsucha deliciously bad idea.

That and, y’know, the fact that he’s my dad’s best friend.

“Thirty-seven?” Farrah slowly retreated, disappearing into the back seat. “That’s fuckinghot.”

“Wait, how old is your dad again?” April wondered.

“Aw, why you gotta take it there, Ape?” Farrah countered. “Can a girl have a fling with an older guy without someone implying she has daddy issues for once?”

“I’m not implying anything, I’m just asking!” April protested.

“They’re the same age,” I said. “They’re best friends. They grew up together and everything.”

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