I shift my body toward him. “Oh, please enlighten me.”
“Guys like Stephen are insecure. They know they’ll never amount to much after college, probably won’t get drafted to the NFL—because let’s face it, no one at BU has been drafted for almost a decade—and they major in something simple like communications or something, so they use their stardom while they have it and they shove it in everyone’s faces while they can. Right now, Stephen is the big man on campus. All the girls want him. The girls go crazy over that messy brown hair and whatever color his eyes are. But when he graduates…who is going to care? I mean, really. Think about it. He’ll most likely be stuck with a girl who graduated from BU too, who pushed through all of his flirting and bullshit with other girls and stuck around for him. He’ll be working a nine-to-five desk job he hates, he’ll grow a beer belly, and he and whoever his wife is will both be miserable. Sad, but true.”
“Wow. You say this like you’ve gone through it yourself.”
“Not me, but several friends I went to college with have. Fortunately for me, I focused more on school the last two years I was there. During freshman and sophomore year, the girls were up for grabs though.”
I laugh. “What college did you go to?”
“UNC. Not too far from here.”
“Ahh. So, you’ve been in the Carolinas for a long time?”
He nods. “Pretty much. I was born and raised in Charlotte. Moved to Fayetteville with my mom for this job a few years back.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
Torres is quiet again. “Seriously though, don’t waste your time stressing over guys like him. You’re worth more than that.”
I avoid his eyes.
Torres grunts as he stands, and I look up as he points a thumb at the carnival. “What do you say we get something to drink? Wash the hot dogs down?”
I smile and pick up my popcorn, my heart beating faster. “Sure.”
TWENTY-TWO
I wash down the hot dog with a grape slushy and Torres washes his down with an Orangeade. He paid for both. I suppose this is his way of not showing me pity.
One of the games next to the drinks stand clears up and it’s for water guns. Shoot the water from the guns at the target and whoever gets to the top of the color wheel first wins a prize.
I hear laughter and look to my left, noticing Stephen with the same girl. They’re now at the line of the Ferris Wheel, a good distance away where he can’t see me. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, the same way he’d wrap his around mine when walking me to my apartment, or walking with me after practice. I snatch my gaze away.
“I dare you to play this game with me,” Torres says, stepping forward. I look up at him and there’s a faint smile on his lips. He’s trying to distract me.
“You dare me?” I ask, fighting a smile.
“Yup.” He walks past me to the game booth to pay the game operator. As he sits on one of the stools and grips the handle of the water gun, he says, “Bring your ass on, Lakes. Let’s see if you’re fast enough to beat me in a water gun race.”
I break out in a laugh, give a what-the-hell shrug, and sit in the seat next to him, gripping the gun. The bell goes off and I squeeze my trigger first. Torres squeezes his too and the water squirts at the target, a strong stream that trickles down to a silver tray at the end of it.
“Go! Go!” I’m so close to the top and Torres is right on my ass. The bell goes off, and I jump off the stool as cheerful bells sound from the speakers. “Yes!”
“You got lucky!” Torres laughs, pushing off his stool.
“No, that wasn’t luck,” I respond with a smug smile. “I beat you fair and square.” I tell the game operator I’d like the orange dragon, and he hands it to me. I study the yellow spots on the fluffy dragon’s back before peering up at Torres. “So, since we’re doing dares, I dare you to go on the haunted boat ride with me.”
“Oh, hell no. That kind of ride is NOT for me.” He waves his hands and steps back.
“What, are you scared?” I challenge, then smirk.
“No—I’m just a grown man who doesn’t need to have his ass on a haunted boat ride that is meant for children.” He’s fighting a smile.
“Well, I guess you’re going to lose this dare then. Damn, Torres. I didn’t take you for the losing type. As much as you talk about winning, this is a shocker to me.” I’m testing him now—right to his face. If I know men like Torres, I know they don’t like to be defeated.