FALLING FOR THE QUARTERBACK

CHAPTER TWO

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft ding, and Ruby immediately regretted every decision that had led her to this moment. It was Saturday evening, and she'd been summoned to the athletic building by her roommate Amy, who had some elaborate plan involving "showing support" for the football team. Ruby had tried to protest, pointing out that she had a paper due in three days and an art project that was currently a collection of abstract scribbles on a canvas. But Amy had been insistent, and Ruby had never been good at saying no to her.

So here she was, standing in an elevator, wearing a borrowed blue dress that Amy had insisted she wear because it "brought out her eyes," and looking like a stranger in her own reflection. She was alone at first, and she let herself relax, let the tension drain from her shoulders. She could do this. She could show up, watch a stupid football game, and then go home and pretend that none of it had ever happened. Then the elevator stopped at the next floor, and the doors opened to reveal Tyler Bennett. Ruby's heart sank. Of course. Of course it would be him.

He stepped inside, his eyes flickering to her briefly before looking away. He was dressed in his post-game clothes, a simple white t-shirt and dark jeans that fit him entirely too well, and he smelled of cologne and something else, something that was annoyingly pleasant. The doors closed behind him, and they began their descent. Silence. Awkward, suffocating silence.

Ruby stared at the numbers above the door, watching them tick down slowly. She could feel Tyler's presence beside her, could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. She wondered if he even remembered her, if he'd spared a single thought for the girl whose sketchbook he'd ruined that morning. Probably not. Tyler Bennett probably had more important things to think about than the art student he'd nearly run over. The elevator lurched.

Ruby gasped, her hand flying out to brace herself against the wall. Tyler's body stiffened beside her, and they both watched as the lights flickered, dimmed, and then died completely. The emergency lights flickered on after a moment, casting everything in a dull, red glow. The elevator had stopped moving completely. "Great," Ruby muttered, pressing the emergency call button. Nothing happened. She pressed it again. Nothing.

"Don't," Tyler said, his voice tense. "You'll break it."

She whirled on him, the tension from their earlier encounter flaring back to life. "Oh, so you're an expert on elevators now too? Along with being an expert on running people over?"

"I didn't run you over," he said, his jaw clenching. "I bumped into you. There's a difference."

"Could have fooled me."

They stood in hostile silence as Ruby tried the emergency call button again, then her phone. No signal. Of course there was no signal. Because that was just her luck, wasn't it?

"Perfect," she said, slumping against the wall. "Just perfect."

"What's perfect?"

"Being stuck in a broken elevator with the one person on this campus I can't stand."

Tyler let out a humorless laugh. "Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

"Good. Then we can ignore each other while we wait."

"Fine by me."

They settled into opposite corners of the elevator, Ruby crossing her arms and glaring at the doors, Tyler leaning against the wall and staring at his phone as if it would spontaneously gain signal.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.

Ruby's anger began to fade into something else, boredom, maybe, or the beginning of acceptance. She was stuck. There was nothing she could do about it. And the silence was starting to feel less like a weapon and more like a suffocating blanket. She glanced at Tyler out of the corner of her eye. He was still staring at his phone, his jaw tight, his brow furrowed. Up close, she could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the shadow of something dark lurking beneath the surface. Not my problem, she reminded herself. Not my problem, not my business, not my concern.

But the thought kept nagging at her, prodding at the edges of her conscience. She knew what it felt like to be tired. To be exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. She knew what it felt like to carry a weight that no one else could see. She hated that she recognized it in him.

"How long do you think we'll be stuck here?" she asked, surprising herself.

Tyler looked up, equally surprised by the question. "I don't know. Maintenance should be able to get us out eventually."

"Eventually. That's comforting."

"Hey, I don't like this any more than you do."

She sighed, sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Her borrowed dress pooled around her, and she picked at a loose thread on the hem. "I know." Silence again, but different this time. Softer.

"You know," Tyler said after a moment, "I am sorry about your sketchbook. The one I ruined." Ruby looked up at him, surprised by the admission. "You remember that?"

"I remember." He paused, then added: "It looked like it was important."

"It was. Three months of work for my portfolio." He winced. "s**t. I'm sorry. Really."

"I can salvage some of it," Ruby said, though she wasn't sure she believed it. "Not all of it. But some."

"I could pay for new supplies."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you always try to solve your problems with money?"

"No. But I don't know what else to do when I've messed up."

Ruby considered this. It was an honest answer, more honest than she'd expected from him. She'd assumed Tyler Bennett was all surface, all charm and no substance. But there was something beneath the polished exterior, something that made her curious despite herself.

"Where's your girlfriend?" she asked, deflecting. "Shouldn't she be worried about you being stuck in here?"

Tyler snorted. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Could have fooled me. I've seen the girls following you around."

"They're not following me. They're just..." He trailed off, seemingly unsure how to finish the sentence.

"They're what?"

"They want something from me. Something I'm not sure I know how to give."

Ruby studied him, her artist's eye cataloging the details, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers were tapping against his thigh, the faint lines of worry etched between his brows. He looked tired. Worn. "You're not what I expected," she said.

"What did you expect?"

"Some arrogant jock who thinks the world revolves around him."

"I am an arrogant jock."

"Maybe. But there's more."

Tyler's eyes met hers, and for a moment, something passed between them. An understanding. A recognition.

"You're not what I expected either," he said.

"What did you expect?"

"Some stuck-up art student who thinks she's too good for everyone else."

Ruby laughed, a genuine sound that seemed to surprise them both. "I am an art student. But I don't think I'm too good for anyone."

"Then why do you always look so angry?"

The question caught her off guard. "What?"

"When I see you on campus, you're always walking fast, like you're trying to get away from something. And your face..." He gestured vaguely. "You always look like you're bracing for a fight."

Ruby was silent for a long moment, trying to process the fact that Tyler Bennett, arrogant, entitled Tyler Bennett, had been paying enough attention to notice something like that.

"I guess I am," she admitted quietly. "Bracing for a fight, I mean."

"Why?"

"Because life has taught me that it's easier to expect the worst than to be disappointed."

Tyler was quiet, and Ruby braced herself for the platitudes, the empty reassurances that people always offered when they didn't know what to say. But he didn't offer any. He just looked at her, his expression unreadable, and nodded.

"I get that," he said.

And somehow, Ruby believed him.

They talked for three hours. It started with small things, favorite movies, classes, the best places to get food on campus, and then grew into something deeper. Ruby told him about her mother, about the phone calls that always ended in tears, about the divorce that had shattered everything she'd ever believed in. Tyler told her about his father, about the weight of expectation, about the feeling that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be enough.

They didn't solve anything. There were no revelations, no moments of clarity that made everything suddenly make sense. They just talked, two strangers sharing pieces of themselves that they'd never shared with anyone else.

"You know this doesn't mean we're friends, right?" Ruby said when the elevator finally started moving again, the lights flickering back to life.

Tyler looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "Wouldn't dream of it."

The doors slid open, and they stepped out into the lobby. Amy was there, her face a mask of concern, and she rushed toward Ruby the moment she saw her.

"Oh my God, are you okay? They said there was a malfunction..."

"I'm fine." Ruby glanced back at Tyler, who was already walking away, his broad shoulders disappearing through the exit. "I'm fine." But as she followed Amy out of the building, Ruby couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Something that she didn't quite understand and wasn't sure she wanted to. She pushed it aside, burying it deep with all the other things she didn't want to think about. It was nothing. He was nothing. Just some arrogant jock she happened to get stuck in an elevator with. Nothing more.