#mrlennox
Ryan
A COUPLE DAYS later, I’m standing in front of my American History class, leaning back against the front of my desk, when I completely forget where I was going in my lecture.
“So, uh . . . Hoover . . .”
“You okay, Mr. Lennox?” a girl in the front row of desks asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just . . . lost my train of thought.”
“That’s ’cause this Hoover guy is boring,” a mouthy guy in the back of the room cracks.
“Herbert Hoover was anything but boring. He was a self-made millionaire who arguably fed more people and saved more lives than any single man in history. He even had a sport named after him. You ever have a sport named after you, Declan?”
He scoffs as students around him snicker.
“Hell, I’m only fifteen. Gimme time.” His grin is arrogant. “I’ll probably have a whole state named after me or some shit.”
I fold my arms across my chest, waiting patiently as Declan’s friends laugh and fist bump him for his outburst.
When the noise has died down, I say, “As you will recall from the talk I gave on the first day of class, and the syllabus you signed, Declan, you just scored yourself a special assignment. I’ll be looking for a one-thousand-word paper on the origin and historical uses of the profane word you just used on my desk Monday morning.”
Now the snickers are directed at Declan, which he’s not such a fan of.
“What the . . . ?” He gives me an openmouthed stare.
“Careful, or you’ll have two papers to write.”
He clamps his mouth shut. In the eight years I’ve been teaching, I’ve often had to assign the profanity paper to one student, early in the school year. I’ve never had to assign a second one, though.
The bell rings, and my class clears out. Declan keeps his head down, not even trying to give me a dirty look. Between my job as my high school’s football coach and the tattoos visible on one of my arms when I’m wearing a short-sleeved shirt, most smartass boys don’t run their mouths to me. And if they do, they usually regret it.
I don’t have a bad temper. It’s the opposite, actually. I’m unfazed by dumb adolescent behavior, but I do call it out and enforce repercussions. Teaching and coaching are very similar—it’s all about action and consequences. My boys know if I tell them we’re conditioning, it’s gonna be a long, hard session, but I’ll be right in there beside them.
Coaching football is the only reason I still have abs. The rest of my body is in peak physical shape too. If Sienna wanted to be with a guy based on looks, I’d have a damn good shot. But she’s a smart, amazing woman who wants it all. And she can’t have it all with a man she thinks of as a brother.
I wouldn’t give up my past with Sienna for anything, even though it means I can’t have the future I want with her. Any other man she’s with will never know her the way I do.
I was there when she pulled out a loose tooth during a neighborhood baseball game, stuck it in her pocket right there in the batter’s circle, and continued with her at-bat. She hit a single, too.
When her grandma passed away, I sat next to her at the funeral, sweaty and awkward in a suit my mom made me wear, and she leaned her head on my shoulder for a few seconds as she cried. At the time, I was silently put off by my best buddy’s younger sister leaning against me with a runny nose and tearstained cheeks, but now . . . I’d give anything to be her comfort.
The next time I saw her crying, I wasn’t disgusted—I was pissed. Coop and I were sixteen then, and we were playing football in his front yard when Sienna came running down the sidewalk and up the driveway, sobbing. She was crying so hard she was hiccupping, but Coop finally got out of her that a boy from her class had asked her to be his girlfriend, taken her behind the school to mess around with her—which included putting his dirty little hands up her shirt—and then promptly dumped her when she told him to stop. Coop and I paid a visit to that twelve-year-old piece of shit and helped him see the error of his ways.
Protecting her has been second nature to me for a long time, but a decade ago, it stopped being brotherly for me. I’d walk through fire for Sienna because I’m deeply, irrationally in love with her.
My days of fantasizing about her over dinner at her parents’ house are long gone, though. Things will be awkward as fuck from here on out, all because of my stupid idea to get closer to her as RoughRider.
I’m still ignoring Coop. He’s been messaging me constantly, though he seems to have cooled off a bit. There’s no way I’m dealing with his bullshit anytime soon. Sienna rejected me, which hurt like hell even though it’s what I expected. I’m not apologizing to Coop for loving Sienna. It’s outside my control, and I’d die before I hurt her.
My last hour of the day is my planning period, so I sit down at my desk and force myself to focus on grading papers. I’m almost halfway through the stack when my Foxy app dings with a new message.
My heart stalls for a couple seconds. The only person I use that app to message with is Sienna. I grab the phone and read the lines on the screen.
SIENNAM: Ryan, are you there?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yeah, I’m here. Hi.
SIENNAM: Hi. Is this a good time?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yeah. How are you?
SIENNAM: I’m good. You?
ROUGHRIDER16: I’m okay.
SIENNAM: Was that enough small talk?
ROUGHRIDER16: More than enough for me. How are you, really?
SIENNAM: That makes me think of you asking me, ‘Who are you, really?’ But you already knew, didn’t you? You’ve known me almost my entire life.
ROUGHRIDER16: No, I didn’t know you the way I wanted to.
SIENNAM: Do you know me better now?
ROUGHRIDER16: Better than I did, but not as well as I’d like.
SIENNAM: It’s taken me a few days to let things sink in. I was so shocked, Ryan. In some ways, I still am.
ROUGHRIDER16: You were never supposed to know. When you said ’911,’ though, all I could think about was getting to you to make sure you were okay.
SIENNAM: That seems a little cruel to me. Professing these feelings for me as RoughRider, making me have feelings back, and you never planned to reveal yourself?
ROUGHRIDER16: You had feelings back?
SIENNAM: Couldn’t you tell?
ROUGHRIDER16: No . . . sorry.
SIENNAM: It feels like you were leading me on.
ROUGHRIDER16: That was never my intent.
SIENNAM: What was your intent?
ROUGHRIDER16: To see a side of you I didn’t think I’d ever get to see.
SIENNAM: You’re Coop’s best friend, and my friend too. I care for you and would never want to hurt you. I hope you know that.
ROUGHRIDER16: You don’t need to do this. I got the message—you’re not interested in me.
SIENNAM: I just can’t see Ryan Lennox and RoughRider as one and the same. I can’t even wrap my mind around you being interested in me. I’m just Coop’s lost puppy dog little sister. You can get any woman you want.
ROUGHRIDER16: I want you.
SIENNAM: I’m moody and impatient.
ROUGHRIDER16: You’re determined. That’s a good thing.
SIENNAM: I’m independent and terrible at relationships.
ROUGHRIDER16: I know who you are, Sienna. I love your independence. And you’re terrible at relationships because you choose losers who don’t treat you right.
SIENNAM: How would you know?
ROUGHRIDER16: Coop. For years, I’ve gritted my teeth as he told me about the latest douchebag to hurt you.
ROUGHRIDER 16: Still there?
SIENNAM: I’m here. I just don’t know what to say.
ROUGHRIDER16: You don’t have to say anything. You don’t owe me anything. I just hope you know how sorry I am. I’d never hurt you. What I did was selfish.
SIENNAM:You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry, though. It’s not you.
ROUGHRIDER16: You’re killin’ me, Pup . . .
SIENNAM: I’m sorry.
ROUGHRIDER16: Stop saying that. :/
SIENNAM: Okay, new subject . . . You’re a history teacher, aren’t you?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yep.
SIENNAM: So what was the Bob and John promotion thing about? You don’t have any employees, do you?
ROUGHRIDER16: It was about two players on my football team. I took your advice, btw, and “John” is killing it as a starter.
SIENNAM: Not his real name?
ROUGHRIDER16: No. His name is Brendan.
ROUGHRIDER16: Hey, that psycho who pulled a gun on you—is she in jail?
SIENNAM: Yes. She hasn’t been able to make bail.
ROUGHRIDER16: Good. What will do you if she does get out?
SIENNAM: I don’t know. I should have a security system installed at my house, I suppose.
ROUGHRIDER16: You should. What kind of locks do you have on your doors?
SIENNAM: There’s lock on the door handle and a chain on both doors. We always lock them.
ROUGHRIDER16: You need deadbolts.
SIENNAM: Good idea. I’ll ask the security company to install them.
ROUGHRIDER16: I’ll do it. I can come by tonight after practice.
ROUGHRIDER16: It’s not a backward effort to see you. I’m genuinely concerned.
SIENNAM: If you’re able to do it, I’d appreciate it. I know you’re concerned. Thanks.
ROUGHRIDER16: If you want shooting lessons, I can teach you. I have a handgun you can borrow.
SIENNAM: OMG no. I don’t want a gun in my house. I’d never be comfortable shooting one.
ROUGHRIDER16: You’d get comfortable if that maniac client broke in to your house . . .
SIENNAM: I’ll think about it.
ROUGHRIDER16: No, you won’t. I know you, remember?
SIENNAM: You’re right, I won’t . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: Be careful, okay? You’ve seen what this lady’s capable of.
SIENNAM: I will. Promise.
ROUGHRIDER16: I’ll install a camera at your front door too, so you can see who’s there before opening it.
SIENNAM: You know how to do that?
ROUGHRIDER16: It’s not hard.
SIENNAM: Let me know what I owe you for the supplies.
ROUGHRIDER16: Nothing. I just want you to be safe.
SIENNAM: Promise me we won’t let it be awkward between us now.
ROUGHRIDER16: Promise.
SIENNAM: Okay. See you tonight?
ROUGHRIDER16: See you then.