Turning the radio up does nothing to clear my head, and I’m certain Ms. Levinson would agree. She’s been watching me shoot around from her patio, and while I don’t look to confirm she’s scowling about the loud music, I don’t need to. She is.
Normally, I’d be a bit more considerate, but I’m still fuming. Just as much as when I stood face-to-face with that bastard. All three of those bastards, actually.
It’s unbelievable that people like that exist in the world.
The ball rolls off my fingertips and ricochets off the rim. West has even messed with my shot.
Another reason to hate that dick.
“Damn, Blue. Your finger still busted or something? That was ugly.”
Without turning, I know that voice. When I sigh, it draws a laugh out of him.
“What … do you want, Ruiz?”
“You only call me that when you’re mad, but that’s not possible. I haven’t had the chance to piss you off, seeing as how you’ve been dodging me for months.”
I shoot again and … miss again, mumbling a few choice words under my breath.
“You clearly didn’t get the hint,” I say aloud, dribbling the ball between my legs. The weeds sprouting through the cracks in the cement make this more challenging than it has to be, but I’ve got a good grip. Hopefully, I’ll find my rhythm soon.
“Well, what if I told you I come bearing gifts? Would that change your mind?”
Curious, I almost turn. “Depends on what it is.”
I should’ve just told him to kick rocks, but I’m not myself today for obvious reasons.
“Told my aunt I was stopping by today to talk, and that I needed to soften you up first. So, she made you these.”
Ugh … he knows his aunt Carla’s food is my weakness. Back when we were kids, she used to make all my birthday cakes, because Ricky never forgot when it rolled around.
Deciding to grant his request, I turn to face him, immediately regretting it. One look and I’m reminded why I’ve kept him away.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I’m also reminded why I let him into the house that night a little over a year ago. He’d stopped by to see Hunter, but I was the only one home. It wasn’t unheard of for him to stick around to keep me company, so I still let him in. However, at some point in our otherwise innocent friendship, things between us got … weird.
The brief sibling-like hugs we shared on occasion since elementary school started lasting a little longer. Then there was the ‘accidental’ kiss when I was fourteen and he was sixteen. Then, the other accidental kiss two years later. The next thing I knew, my v-card was in Ricky’s pocket, and after the first time, it happened with him a lot of times.
Like … a lot of times.
Yep, definitely shouldn’t have turned around.
He’s every bit as attractive as when I first started avoiding him. The shadow of his dark, buzzed hair is freshly lined up, and he’s rocking a low goatee now. It suits him, which makes me uncomfortable to acknowledge.
A fitted tee and dark jeans look as new as the crisp-white sneakers on his feet. That’s not unusual for him, though. He has more than enough cash coming in to afford it. At the thought, the diamond stud in his ear catches the sunlight and the glint snaps me out of the daze.
“Brownies,” he says casually.
I blink a few times before speaking. “Can’t ha—”
“I reminded her about the nut allergy,” he interjects, playfully rolling his eyes. “I don’t forget shit like that.” He expectantly holds a plastic container out for me to take it. I swear he has the memory of an elephant.
“Thank you.”
I don’t hesitate to pop the lid and bite into one, which draws a laugh from him. Next thing I know, my arm drops as the ball once tucked beneath it is stolen and there’s nothing I can do about it, because … brownies.
Links of the chain connecting the wallet in his pocket to his belt loop make a clanking sound when he shoots. Of course, the ball swooshes into the basket on his first try. Freakin’ show off.
“Not ‘working’ today?” The question leaves my mouth snidely, and he doesn’t miss it.
Another shot sinks into the basket, then he passes a look over his shoulder with a knowing smile. His idea of ‘working’ and mine are oceans apart. In fact, it’s the same ocean that caused our breakup, and it will be the same ocean that ensures we’ll never revisit what we had.
“Nah, I’m off today. Pays to know the boss,” he teases, referencing his uncle, Paul.
Ricky’s been ‘running errands’ for the guy since he was about thirteen. This is right around the time Uncle Paul took Hunter under his wing, once our father proved to be useless. Unfortunately, though, Paul isn’t exactly a stand-up citizen. Some actually argue that he’s at the heart of everything wrong with South Cypress. Well, him and his connections across the city.
Another ball goes in and I snatch it back while swallowing the last of the brownie I wolfed down.
“Good for you,” I say with a disinterested sigh. “You should probably take off then. You know, enjoy having the day to yourself. Guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
Before Ricky can even get a sentence out, I climb a few of the porch steps, heading toward the back door. Only, the light hold on my wrist halts me. The touch is gentle, but acts as a reminder of being grabbed by West earlier. I snatch away and my eyes dart toward Ricky and I’m fully aware that I’m projecting anger meant for West toward the wrong guy. However, I’m too proud to apologize.
His head cocks and I know what he’s about to say. “You good? I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just need you to hold up for a sec.”
An exhausted sigh escapes and I force my frustration to subside. At least momentarily. “It’s just been a long day,” is the only explanation I give, which is an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.
Staring out at the rusted garage door where my rim hangs, I prop myself against the rail. Ricky’s staring, but I refuse to meet his gaze. Instead, I focus on the black web of telephone and electrical wires that zigzag back and forth from the roof of the house, to the wooden posts that tower in the alley.
“I think—”
“Not in the mood to hear what you think,” I cut in, still refusing to meet his gaze.
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” he counters with a laugh.
It’s so hard to rattle him, which I used to love and hate. But when he’s pushed, there’s a ruthless side no one, including me, wants to see.
When I don’t take the bait, he takes a different approach. One I didn’t see coming by a mile.
“Wouldn’t expect a girl who’s about to lockdown the king of the north to be in such a shitty mood.” There’s an undertone of amusement in his voice that annoys the hell out of me. He’s grinning when I finally level a look down on him from the steps.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The words fly from my mouth like fiery darts, filled with suspicion.
Before answering, he pulls the phone from his pocket and scrolls. When the screen is turned toward me, my stomach sinks at the sight of that pink and black, tiger-striped icon.
“Folks seem to think there’s a hookup in your future,” Ricky adds.
So many thoughts flash in my head, most of which would end in an angry rant about what I just went through after orientation, but these aren’t the kinds of things I share with Ricky. We aren’t friends. We aren’t anything but exes, so I hold it all in.
Jules, on the other hand, will certainly be getting an earful the second I make it inside the house and dial her number.
“Following gossip apps now, Ruiz? Seems a little beneath you.”
He laughs, but it’s a bit more subdued than before. Like, maybe his ego is slightly wounded with whatever he thinks he knows about this whole West situation. I’ve been super cold toward Ricky these past few months, so there’s some guilt lurking beneath the surface, prompting me to ease up a little.
“It’s not like … whatever they’re trying to portray. Trust me,” is all I say, but I leave out the part about those bastards separating me from the herd to threaten me.
I don’t need Ricky’s pity or whatever reaction he might have. My problems are not his problems, despite what he thinks.
“If you say so,” he replies with a slick grin, like he thinks there’s more to this story. I suppose there is, but it’s nothing like what he’s imagining.
“I’m not talking to you about this,” I say, shutting down that portion of the conversation.
There’s a brief standoff where I feel him wanting to press, but he refrains, which is lucky for me. Instead, he changes the subject, but of course he brings up the one other thing I refuse to discuss with him.
“Your brother’s still asking for you. Every time we talk, actually,” he adds. “He says it’s important, but he refuses to talk about it over the phone or in letters. Says it has to be face-to-face.”
Sighing, I lift my gaze to the sky. “And like I keep telling you, Hunter made his own bed, and he will lie in it alone. It’s bad enough he left me to deal with everything on my own. I’ve got Scar to look after, plus work, and school in a few days,” I ramble. “He should be here. He knows how our parents are, so he should’ve thought enough of me and Scar to be better.”
“Don’t say that,” Ricky cuts in. “You know he was always thinking about you.”
My stare turns cold. He’s always sticking up for Hunter, good or bad, right or wrong. There’s such a thing as being loyal, and such a thing as being an enabler. Sometimes, I struggle to decide which role Ricky fills in Hunter’s life most often.
“If he cared, if he really wanted what’s best for us, he’d be here,” I conclude. “Period.”
I can’t admit this out loud, but I’m also one-hundred percent sure I couldn’t stand seeing my brother like that—locked in that place, knowing he’ll be there for decades without any chance of release. I prefer the memories I’ve managed to hold on to.
My heart lurches inside my chest, but I hide how bad it hurts.
“I won’t see him like that, Ricky. I don’t care what he has to say, I need to move on from this.”
A warm hand covers mine where it rests on the rail, and I don’t move despite knowing I should.
“I know you’re angry, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s your family. Whether out here or in there, he’s blood.”
One tear streaks down my cheek, but I don’t rush to wipe it.
“My mind is made up, Ricky. There’s nothing else to talk about.”
I feel his stare looming over me, but I stand my ground.
“If that’s what you want, I can’t force you.” His hands slips off mine and he shoves both his in the pockets of his jeans.
A rumble of bass from a passerby’s speakers fills the silence between us. But just as I decide to meet his gaze again, I lose it because he’s pointing behind me.
“What’s that?”
My heart sinks when I turn, rushing to snatch the pink shut-off notice from where it’s been placed on the screen door. It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s already seen it.
“How much do you need?”
I ignore his question and focus on the two kids pedaling through the alley on bikes instead.
“So, I’m such a terrible person that I’m not even good enough to help you?” he asks, only now showing signs of frustration.
“Don’t do that,” I shoot back.
“Do what? Point out the truth? Why don’t you just admit what we both know? You think you’re better than me.”
It’s been a terrible day already and I don’t need this. Not on top of everything else.
Stretching my arms toward my house, and then toward my piece-of-crap car, a humorless laugh slips out. “Yes, living in this palace has certainly gone to my head, Ruiz. Thank you for putting me in my place.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t want your money because I know how you get it,” I shout, correcting his bullshit logic, while also earning Ms. Levinson’s attention. “What makes you think I’d accept dirty cash from you if I wouldn’t take it from my own brother? The problem has never been that I’m too good for you. The problem is that you’re too good to blindly let yourself turn into your Uncle Paul, and we both know it.”
“Whatever,” he sighs, waving me off as his nostrils flare—a sure sign I’ve pissed him off. “I have your address. The electric company won’t need more than that. It’ll be taken care of by morning,” he declares.
“Mind your business, Ricky.” My words are pointless, because he’s already disappeared into the alley, hidden from view by Ms. Levinson’s garage.
I swear, every guy I’ve encountered today needs a swift kick in the dick.
Every. Single. One.
