Page 5 of Rush
My breath caught. Jade had thought about me? I wasn’t sure what to make of that considering she’d chosen the douchewad Hunter Ballinger—rich, private schooled, posh lawyer-ish, fucker with a wandering cock—over me, Ryan Harper, public school delinquent who was only good with his fists. At least I’d been able to turn brawling into a valid career.
“You’re different,” she added.
I tilted my head to the side. “Different, how?”
“Taller, musclier… You have a tattoo.”
I smiled, looking her over. “You’re different, too.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve got boobs now. They were always so tiny.”
Her mouth fell open, and I started laughing.
“Asshole.” She was attempting to be outraged, but I could see the hint of a smile underneath it all.
“What hotel are you going to?” I asked. “I’ll get you a cab, and I’ll ride with you if you like.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “You’re probably busy…”
I had to go back to training, but I couldn’t just pile her into the back of a cab and never see her again. Running into her today of all days had to mean something.
“I’ll just text my coach and tell him something came up. I’ll just have to make up for the lost time tomorrow.”
“Coach?” she asked.
“I train down there at Pulse Fitness,” I explained, pointing down the side street. “I’m about to break into the AUFC.”
“What’s that?”
I chuckled and shook my head. She’d never really been into sports. I remembered she’d gone to all of her snotty boyfriend’s softball games, but that was her limit.
“It’s the Australian Ultimate Fighting Championship,” I said. “Mixed Martial Arts.”
“Wait… Isn’t it supposed to be brutal?”
“It can be,” I said with a shrug.
Turning, I glanced down the street and spied a yellow taxi approaching at a snail’s pace. The road was clogged, but this stretch of Victoria Street always was.
“There’s a taxi coming,” I said. “Want it?”
“Sure.”
Stepping between the parked cars, I held my hand up, signaling to the driver. When the traffic moved forward, he double-parked to let us hop in. The boot popped open, and I grasped the handle of Jade’s suitcase, hauling it inside as she got into the back of the taxi.
“Where to?” the driver asked as I opened the other passenger side door.
“Mercure on Little Bourke,” Jade replied as I slid in beside her.
The car pulled out into the traffic, and I glanced at her. She’d sunk against the window, her gaze fixed on something outside.
“The Mercure, huh?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
“It has the best rating out of all the hotels in a two-block radius to where I work,” she replied. “It’s three stars, but beggars can’t be choosers.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I closed my mouth and sat awkwardly, glancing at the meter as it clicked over dollar amounts while we sat at the traffic lights at Hoddle Street.
