Page 32 of Ruck Me Harder

“Your time will come,” I tell him seriously.

He lifts a shoulder. “Someday my princess will come.”

It takes me a second to place the reference. “I didn’t take you for a Snow White fan,” I tease.

“Cari loved all the Disney princesses growing up,” he says defensively. “She got first dibs on the TV being the only girl.”

But once he meets my eyes and sees I’m laughing with him, not at him, he relaxes a bit.

I like Al. I still don’t have any feelings for him, I definitely don’t want to date him, but hanging out? I think I can manage that.

As the night winds down, my friends and his teammates start to leave.

“Do you want a ride?” he asks as he reaches for his coat.

“Nah, I’ll catch an Uber.”

“You sure?” Cari pipes in, looking over at us. She’s been chatting with some of the other players all night. “We have room in the car.”

“Yeah. I’m good.” I give her a smile that actually feels genuine. “I had a nice time tonight. I’m glad we went out.”

“Me too.”

To my surprise, she launches herself at me, wrapping me in a hug. It takes me a second to catch my breath and wrap my arms around her.

“We’re friends. Right?” She looks at me hopefully with big doe eyes.

“Yeah. Of course.”

She’s my teammate. That automatically makes her my friend. Isn’t that how it works?

“I’m so glad,” Cari says happily. “This is going to be great.”

fourteen

. . .

Tony

My stomach sinks as I stare at the photo. Al and Cari, with Vivienne sandwiched between them. His smile is genuine. Hers too. I can tell because she’s never once looked at me that way.

Flicking to the next photo, my heart stops. Because it’s a group of couples. Al and Cari are there with Vivienne again, of course, with her friends and their boyfriends. I recognize Sven Larsson and Jake Lewis, along with two of her friends from the bar. There’s another couple—the woman with the nose ring, so her boyfriend must be the team’s reporter.

My stomach churns.

This is why she should have gone out with Al. They’re much more suited. They have more in common.

“You moping again?” Susan’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“I’m fine,” I tell her, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

“C’mon. Tell me what’s going on with you,” she says, tugging me by my hoodie into the office.

Collapsing onto the threadbare armchair opposite her desk, I sigh and run my hand through my hair. It’s starting to grow out again; it’s almost time for a cut.

“Is it work? Or training?” Susan asks.

“Neither. Both?” Slumping lower in the chair, I glare at her. “All I do is work and train. I don’t have time for anything else.”