I actually was planning to go to college in Texas?”
My chin nearly hits my chest “What? I had no idea. What happened?”
“I had a scholarship lined up and was going to Texas State, and then I got into a fight and lost it.”
“You told me about that part, but I didn’t realize you were supposed to go to Texas.”
Arlo leans back, a gentle smile on his lips. “Weird, right? We were both planning to go to Texas and ended up here in Seattle.”
I lean back beside him. “It’s a small world.”
“And I thought that fight was going to end my hopes of playing football forever.”
“Was anyone hurt in the fight?”
“Not permanently.”
His response is nearly callous, shocking me. “What does that mean?”
“They pulled up intending to beat the shit out of Theo and rob him. We didn’t seek revenge, and we weren’t trying to hurt them, but we sure as hell weren’t going to let them walk into our space and throw a punch and not regret it.”
“Why didn’t you just call the cops?”
“We did after they left.”
“Why didn’t you call them when they showed up?”
“Because they ambushed us. Hit Theo across the back with a tire iron.” I expect him to get defensive or upset, but he’s neither as he explains this to me.
“And you lost your scholarship over it?”
Arlo nods. “No colleges would look at me after that. I don’t blame them. It wasn’t my first time at the rodeo.”
“What were your other fights over? I can’t imagine this side of you. I mean, you look like a tough guy, I get that, but you’re so mellow and calm. I just can’t see you getting upset with anyone and punching them.”
He grins. “Ego was a factor once or twice. Alcohol might have been involved in one as well, and then there was that time I lost my shit because a friend of mine—a girl who was a friend—was dating a guy, and she had a bunch of bruises on her arms and neck, and I took personal offense to it.”
My heart—my entire chest—grows warm with hearing this. Maybe it’s his honesty or vulnerability or the fact he stood up for someone when they likely didn’t feel like they could.
Why is knowing that so freaking hot?
“Potstickers and pizza might be my favorite new meal,” I blurt out. “I didn’t even need the lo mein.”
His grin spreads into a smile. “You never have to be afraid of me, Liv. You or Rose or any other woman—I’d never hurt a woman. To be honest, I don’t enjoy getting my rocks off by fighting. I mean, yeah, there’s this high you feel afterward, but it falls fast and hard, and then you’re left with a shit ton of guilt and fear for the other person and what they might do to retaliate. Like when those guys hit us up, I remember lying awake in my bed for weeks, worrying they’d come by the house, and my mom would be home alone. That fear—it’s not worth it, but at the same time, you have to be smart and ready, so someone doesn’t blindside you.”
“Have you gotten into any fights here?”
He shakes his head. “That party you got hurt at, that’s as close as I’ve come to a scuffle in years. I dated this girl for like a month my freshman year, though, who used to try and provoke me. Dancing with other guys, flirting with them—dumb shit.”
“What did you do?”
“Paxton sat me down and told me to break up with her.”
“Did you?”
He nods. “And then he started dating her best friend.”
“What?”
Arlo shakes his head, running his tongue the length of his bottom lip, making me forget what we were talking about. “And Candace is crazier than my ex.” He stretches his legs out, his shin sliding against mine and then my foot.
I move, crossing my legs to gain a little space from him. Maybe I should make an excuse to go to bed. Maybe point out that Rose is gone and might be all night so he can sleep out here in the living room. Granted, she may bring someone back, and the cadence of Arlo’s breaths and his warmth and presence has helped make this past week the best week of sleep in my life since moving to Washington.
“I still need to know how you know nothing about football.”
“I know a thing,” I argue. “I mean, I understand the objective, I just don’t understand the detail stuff.”