Page 45 of Hating On Riot

Her lower lip trembles. Her eyes well up.

I don’t mind talking about Coop. But Lan . . . She’s off limits. Never bring her up again. Promise me?

Damn it! I broke my promise. I pull her into my arms and apologize. “I’m sorry, Arie.” Her shoulders shake. Warm tears wet my cheek, and my gut wrenches.

Being the uncaring, cocky bastard the coeds pegged me as, for not promising them the world, or at the very least, one more night with me, I plow ahead when I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

“Talk to me anytime. About her. About Laney.”

“I’m not ready.” She twists out of my arms. “I’ll never be ready.” She stands, staring down at me. “Never, ever bring her up again, or else we are not friends, Riot. I’ll never be your friend if you bring her up again!”

She runs off, wiping away her tears.

I stare at my trembling hands. My vision blurs with tears. I swallow past the knot of emotion in my throat. When will Arie forgive herself for her twin sister’s death?

She wasn’t to blame.

I am.

18

Arie

We sit on Riot’s bed in awkward silence, doing our homework.

We didn’t talk about what happened, that he broke his promise not to bring up the day my sister died. I know I’ll eventually need to talk about her. I’m just not sure when.

I mean, is there ever a good time to talk about how I got my sister killed? Who even wants to hear something so horrible?

Keeping my head down as I tap away on my laptop, I lift my gaze. Riot is sitting across from me, also typing on his laptop.

I hate the thick silence between us. We’ve been making progress, so what happened felt like we’d taken two steps back.

I should’ve told him I was too exhausted to stay up. That everything about the day, including how it ended, with me in tears and hiding in the spare room, left me emotionally and physically drained. But I couldn’t return to an empty bedroom that isn’t mine. I couldn’t return home, either. The house I share with my brothers is empty too.

I couldn’t go to Coop’s place. He’d see my puffy eyes and demand to know what happened between Riot and me. Then I’d have to do what I’ve been doing, what he accused me of doing that fractured our friendship—keeping parts of my life from him.

Sighing, I turn my attention away from the sexy guy in front of me, with his messy hair and a look of concentration on his face, and finish typing the last paragraph of my paper on legally binding contracts.

My phone on the nightstand pings. A text message. I ignore it, not in the mood to talk to anyone. The pinging continues in rapid succession. I have an idea who it is. With how busy I’ve been between going to my classes, spending time with Riot, covering for Riley at her mom’s bookstore, practicing for Nerf War, and my new part-time job as DU’s rugby team’s water girl, I haven’t had a chance to respond to Sean’s texts.

He took back his last text, saying that talking about his ex and how much he missed her made him jump the gun about meeting in real life. I agreed, and we’re back to texting back and forth using the app. I’m glad I changed TRG to Sean. Giving him a name makes him a flesh-and-blood person, not a random guy also helping Hope play this blind dating game of hers.

I reach over to silence the notifications. I’ll text him after Riot falls asleep and I return to the spare room. Sean’s text must be important if there are so many at once.

I return to my overdue paper.

Normally, I finish my assignments at least two days before the deadline, but living in a house with a bunch of jocks is distracting and . . . fun.

Any downtime I have isn’t for self-reflection while lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I’m not alone in my car anymore when I run errands. One of the guys always wants something, whether it’s a ride to a friend’s or a girlfriend’s house because carpooling saves gas and is good for the environment. Who knew jocks could be so environmentally aware? Or they want to tag along when Riot and I go to the grocery store or help walk dogs at the animal shelter in McMillan.

There’s never a boring or quiet moment, and I love it.

My laptop rings with a notification. Darn it, I forgot to put it on silent mode.

“Who the fuck is texting you at one in the morning?” Riot growls. “Shouldn’t they be wasted or asleep?”

Shouldn’t we be asleep rather than doing homework on Saturday? That's what I want to ask. Instead, I’m a sucker. Always have been and always will be around my high school crush. I take in the attention he’s finally giving me—he’s been silent since asking if I wanted to do homework together—and greedily drink him in with my eyes.