Page 28 of Rush

He pulls up near the sidewalk across from my apartment building, and I let out an audible groan when I take in the person sitting on the steps that lead into my building.

“What?” he asks. His eyes must follow my gaze because the next thing he says is, “Who’s that?”

I turn my eyes to his. The glow of the dash lighting his face.

“My ex-boyfriend,” I tell him.

His eyes seem to burn brighter in this moment. “A recent ex?”

I shake my head. “We broke up before…it was his car that I crashed that night. We were at a party. I caught him…with his pants around his ankles…and a friend of mine was…yeah, anyway, I left the party, got in his car, and…you know the rest.”

“Well, he sounds like a real…catch.”

I let out a laugh. “I honestly don’t know what he’s doing here. I haven’t seen him since that night.”

“Let me see you to your apartment.” He takes off his seat belt.

“No, it’s fine. Kyle’s harmless. But thank you. And thank you for the ride home.”

He’s staring at me, saying nothing. His jaw is tight. He looks like he’s angry with me, and I don’t know what I’ve done now to piss him off.

And, honestly, I don’t want to know.

It was surprisingly not a bad night—once the movie got going, and he stopped talking. I don’t want it to be spoiled.

Although I have a feeling that Kyle is going to ruin it for me when I get out of this truck and go over there.

“Well, I’ll see you,” I say to Ares. I retrieve my bag from the floor, hang it on my shoulder, and open the truck door.

“You gonna be able to get out okay?” He doesn’t sound like he’s being sarcastic for once but actually asking a genuine question.

I glance over at him. “I’ll be fine. But, if I break my ankle on the way down, I’m suing. Just so you know.”

I grin, and he chuckles softly.

I shift my butt to the edge of the seat. Holding on to the door with one hand, I jump down, landing steadily on the sidewalk.

“See? Easy,” I tell him with flair before shutting the door of his truck.

I cross the street, walking toward my building. As I get closer, I make my footfalls a little heavier, so Kyle will hear me.

And he does. His head comes up. The moment he spots me, he stands up. Then, I spot the bottle of beer on the step beside him.

He’s been drinking.

Of course he’s been drinking.

“What are you doing here?” I say to him as I approach, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps.

My eyes take him in for the first time in almost seven months.

He looks the same—but also different.

It’s like I’m seeing him through fresh eyes, which I guess I am. His once-spiky blond hair is now overgrown and looks like it hasn’t been washed for days. Dark circles ring his eyes. His cheeks are hollow. His clothes look disheveled.

Is that how I used to look? A mess.

Kyle comes down the steps to me. I see the sway in his movements, telling me that he’s had a lot more than one beer. He stops on the bottom step, standing before me.