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“Yeah, I heard you were back on campus.” Ryan nods once then glances at me. “See you already swooped up the prettiest girl.” He laughs lightly.
I see Cuba’s jaw tighten and he forces a smile. “Yeah, she’s kind of amazing.” He squeezes my hand.
Ryan’s smile tightens. “Yeah, she is. She’s very smart. Anyway.” He looks to me. “I’ll text you if I’m late again.” Thankfully, he doesn’t look back as he walks away.
Cuba doesn’t say anything as he leads us in the opposite direction to where he parked. I don’t even have to ask; I know he’s not happy about Ryan. Is it something personal? I have no idea. Cuba never talks about any teams other than basketball.
“So, how was practice?” I ask once we’re in his G-Wagon, and I click my seatbelt in.
He presses the start button and leans back in his seat. “Why does he have your number?” Cuba doesn’t look at me and starts to drum his long fingers against the steering wheel.
It takes me a second to process his question. “I give all my clients my number in case they have questions, or are going to be late, or if they need to change times. You know that.”
“I thought you didn’t tutor athletes often?” He ignores me, and it rubs me the wrong way.
“I don’t know why your upset, Cuba. I tutor a lot of people, some of them athletes, like you.” I don’t get the problem. “It was okay when it was you?”
His hands slap against his steering wheel, the sound echoing through the SUV making me jump. “Of course, it was only okay with me. I don’t need random guys walking around with my girl’s number. Talking about ‘you got the prettiest girl’.” He makes a face, mocking Ryan, and I want to laugh but I know it’s not a good time. “Tell him to fucking email you.”
He’s crazy. “I never remember to check it and that would look bad.”
His hazel eyes narrow at me. “Do you need me to show you how to turn the notifications on your phone on?”
This is going to be a losing battle. He is not stopping me from giving my number out. “Well, Dex never mind.” It comes out before I even think the words.
“Oh, my bad, maybe I shouldn’t care and cheat on you instead,” he bites back, his fingers digging into the steering wheel. “Would that make you feel better, Bliss?”
My face heats up and I tear my eyes away from him and stare out the front window. “Take me home.” I pause. “No, I’ll just walk home.” I go to unbuckle my seatbelt, but the car starts moving. “Stop.”
“No,” is all he says.
Rolling my eyes, I lean my head against the cool window and watch as he navigates out of the school parking lot. I’m kind of grateful that his windows are so darkly tinted because what would people say if they see us arguing already? And over something so stupid, well, at least to me. It seems like a huge deal to him. I want to ask him about practice but the tension between us keeps my mouth shut tight. If he wants to be an asshole, fine, but bringing up Dex cheating on me was a low blow. I regret telling him the first day we met, just for him to use it against me.
The volume from the stereo increases slightly, the sound of a rap song filling the silence between us. I know the song, and normally would rap along, but I’m not in the mood, and I wonder for a moment if he’s testing how mad I am. I don’t even bob my head to the beat, let him pounder that. When he pulls up to the curb outside my apartment, I unbuckle myself and grab my bag from by my feet.
I don’t look at him as I open the door and slide out. He doesn’t say anything, and I close the door behind me. I don’t even take three steps ahead before he pulls away. He usually waits until I’m at my door. All this over giving my number to Ryan, who I am tutoring. He’s being a child.
India is lying on the couch, flipping through channels on the T.V. when I walk in, she’s still dressed in her work out clothes from practice.
I flop down next to her head and she looks up at me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks looking back to the T.V. “That frown looks ugly on your pretty face.”
My pretty face, the reason for this mess. If Ryan hadn’t called me pretty would we have still fought? Who knows?
“Cuba is being an asshole,” I start to tell her what happened. “He’s being ridiculous over nothing.”
Indi pushes up from the couch quickly, catching me off guard. “Bitch, did you hear what you told me?” She looks at me as if I have three heads. “Your boyfriend is upset because you gave a guy your cell phone number, a sexy as shit football player at that, and you are really lost?”
Squinting my eyes, I jerk my head back. “I’m his tutor, what if he needs to contact me?” I ignore the sexy part because Ryan is attractive.
She blinks at me like I am stupid, and she has no idea why she is even talking to me. “It’s called email, it’s what professionals use. Try it.”
“That’s what he said,” I grumble. I toss my head back exasperated. “Still doesn’t excuse his jab about Dex.”
“He was making a point.” Indi shoos me off. “I bought taco stuff and Patrick is coming with tequila and margarita mix.”
I forgot we we’re doing Taco Tuesday this week and invited Cuba and his friends. Whelp, there goes that since he is pissed, and I’m supposed to be mad but, the more I think about what India is saying, the more I feel like a complete bitch. If the roles were reversed, how would I feel? I would feel the same way if it were him giving a beautiful girl his number. Already, I see the difference between my last relationship and now.
