The One & Only(112)

After another few minutes, I turned off the water, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around my body. I glanced back toward the mirror, but it was too steamed up to show my reflection, and I was grateful for that. I took a few deep breaths, thinking about Coach, then walked back into my bedroom.

And that’s when I saw him, sitting there on the edge of my bed.





Thirty-three





I jumped and made a small gasping sound, the kind I make when I spot a roach in my apartment.

“Your door was unlocked,” Ryan said, holding up his hand as if to calm me. “So I came in.”

“I see that,” I said, turning my back on him to grab a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from my chest of drawers. I dropped my towel to the floor, dressed as quickly as I could, then faced him again.

“I’m sorry, Shea,” he began, looking docile, distraught. His complete about-face caught me off guard and took the edge off my anger.

“It’s fine,” I said, though it wasn’t. “Let’s just forget it.”

I knew that neither of us could do that. That he couldn’t forget the lie about Miller any more than I could forget what he’d done to me, but I just wanted to get rid of him. Even if Coach weren’t on his way over, I’d had enough of him for one night. I searched for the right combination of words as he stood and walked calmly toward me. Without thinking, I held my breath and backed up one step, then another.

His face fell. “Shea. Baby. Please tell me you aren’t scared of me. I would never hurt you. C’mon. You know me. You know that.”

He sounded so sweet, so persuasive that I almost believed him. “I’m not scared of you,” I said. “But you did hurt me.”

It was a compromise between my head and my gut. I didn’t want to let him off the hook completely, but I also didn’t want to put myself in the full-blown victim category.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.

I considered this, deciding that his intent was relevant; maybe he didn’t know his own strength. Then I shook my head, flip-flopping again. “But you did,” I said.

He took another step forward, then reached out and gently touched my left arm, exactly where he’d first grabbed me. “Does it … does it really hurt?”

“Yes. It does. And there’s going to be a bruise there tomorrow. I guarantee it. You think that’s okay?” I said, my voice rising as I spoke more quickly. “To put your hands on a girl like that? Like you’re in a damn football game? It’s not okay, Ryan. You outweigh me by a hundred pounds. It’s not okay.”

He shook his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby,” I said, feeling a fresh swell of anger. “I’m not your baby.”

“Shea. I’m sorry … Just like you’re sorry about Miller.”

I threw my hands in the air, then put one on my hip. “Don’t even put those things in the same category,” I said. “What I did and what you did. And I’m not sorry about Miller. I didn’t do anything with Miller. I’m sorry I lied to you about him. But I lied because I was sick of discussing him. He is a nonissue.” I slapped the back of my hand into my palm for emphasis.

“I believe you,” he said.

“Do you, though?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good. Thank you,” I said, aware that the seconds were ticking down toward Coach’s arrival. Ryan reached out, his long arm encircling my waist, pulling me closer to him as he leaned down to try to kiss me.

I said his name in protest, but he persisted. “C’mon, babe,” he said. “Kiss me. Let’s make up. Can we? Please?”

I turned my head, suddenly repulsed by his natural scent—one I’d felt neutral about before tonight. “Can we please just talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

Ryan’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing. “Why? Are you planning on company? Is Miller on his way over here to comfort you?”

Something inside me snapped as I shouted, “Dammit, Ryan. Get out! Get out now!”

He stared at me calmly, shaking his head. “So it’s like that?”

“Like what?”

“You trying to turn this around. You lie to me like you did. And now this is about me holding your arm a little too hard?” He sneered, then laughed, as if mocking me, and I suddenly hated him.

“Shut up, Ryan. And get the fuck out of my house. This relationship is over.”

“Oh, it’s over?” he said, laughing again. “Because you have a better option?”

“Yes,” I said, wanting to hurt him now, with words, my best weapon. “I do, actually.”