Chapter 17 The Hit-and-Run

Chapter 17 The Hit-and-Run
Ruth Keen currently had only one coherent thought.
Executing a massive power move and immediately running away is the most terrifying adrenaline rush on earth.
After yanking Matthew Lynes by the ear and dropping that aggressively possessive line, Ruth felt like her soul had left her body. She had practically floated back up to the bleachers, entirely tuning out the shocked stares of everyone around them. It wasn't until Helen violently shook her arm that she finally snapped back to reality.
"What the hell were you two doing down there?!" Helen shrieked, vibrating with excitement. "I couldn't see anything, and I didn't want to leave our seats to check! Ahhh Ru, tell me everything!"
Ruth genuinely had no idea how to explain it.
What was she supposed to say?
Matthew drank my water, then subtly asked if I would let other guys drink my water, and I grabbed his ear and told him he's the only one allowed to indirectly kiss me?
Yeah, absolutely not.
Ruth immediately deployed the ultimate distraction tactic. She pointed frantically at the court. "Look! The game is starting again! Stop talking, watch the game!"
Thankfully, the referee blew the whistle, and the surrounding crowd shifted their attention back to the players.
The rest of the game lacked any real suspense. With their Number 7 playing like an absolute demon, the Finance class dominated flawlessly.
Halfway through the third quarter, Helen muttered, "Is it just me, or is Mat playing way more aggressively now? Do you think he's in a rush to leave?"
Ruth felt incredibly guilty and pretended she was suddenly deaf.
Normally, Ruth and Matthew would leave class together. It was never an explicitly planned arrangement, just an unspoken, mutual habit.
But as she thought about it... Today is absolutely not happening.
After successfully flirting with him so aggressively, her courage had completely evaporated. She was utterly terrified of facing him.
The players always took longer to leave the court than the audience. The exact second the final buzzer blew, Ruth grabbed Helen's arm and practically power-walked her out of the gymnasium.
Matthew had just sunk a flawless half-court three-pointer right as the buzzer sounded, serving as the ultimate, arrogant curtain call. Helen was still recovering from the shock as Ruth dragged her outside.
"I seriously don't get it!" Helen gasped, practically jogging to keep up. "How is Mat literally perfect at everything?! He can defend, he can carry, he can shoot! Did you see that three-pointer?! Mother of god, the arc on that ball was a literal work of art! I—"
As Ruth speed-walked while listening to Helen's endless stream of praise, her phone vibrated in her pocket.
ML: Walking pretty fast, aren't you?
ML: I'm pretty sure I'm the one who just got physically harassed... why are you the one running away?
Harassed?
HARASSED?!
Excuse me, what exactly do you define as—
Fine. Honestly, it was definitely harassment.
Ruth let out a long breath, deciding to just own it. She quickly typed back: I got shy, okay? Is that a crime?
Matthew didn't reply immediately.
Ruth had made it halfway across the quad before her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a text. It was an audio message.
She tapped play.
Matthew's voice came through the speaker, crisp and incredibly clear. He was audibly laughing. "Alright. And how long exactly are you planning to be shy?"
Ruth: "..."
She didn't answer. She honestly had no idea how to answer.
A few seconds later, two more audio messages popped up. She could hear the chaotic, echoing background noise of the locker room, and his voice was slightly breathless from the game, making it sound devastatingly sexy.
"Even if you're shy, you still have to come watch the rest of the tournament."
"I forgot to tell you earlier... the sports rep was actually right. The team could have easily beaten these guys without me. I was just joking when I said I couldn't."
A brief pause. When he spoke again, his voice dropped an octave, softening into an incredibly intimate, low murmur that felt like it was being whispered directly against the shell of her ear.
"But the reason I stayed on the court to slaughter a bunch of scrubs..." He chuckled softly. "...was just so you'd have an excuse to look at me a little longer."

The basketball tournament lasted three days, which meant Ruth’s crippling shyness was forcefully cured by day two.
By the third day—the grand finals—Matthew didn't bring up the water bottle incident, and her embarrassment had completely faded. Being shy for a day was cute; dragging it out any longer was just annoying.
Honestly, the entire tournament played out exactly like Matthew had described: a one-sided slaughter of absolute scrubs. It wasn't until the final match against the undefeated International Trade Class 3 that they finally faced some actual resistance.
But even then, Finance 101 took the championship trophy.
After the game, the International Trade captain walked over to Matthew. Looking completely defeated but genuinely respectful, he sighed heavily. "Bro, I don't care what anyone else says, I'm telling you right now: please graduate early. Get out of this league. You are a literal cheat code."
After laughing off the opposing team's dramatic exit, the Finance players swarmed Matthew.
"Mat! Mat! Let's go find a place to celebrate!"
"Two years! We were oppressed for two years! We finally got our revenge! I feel so incredibly validated right now!"
"Drinks are on us, Mat! Everyone is pitching in! You coming?!"
"No thanks, guys. I appreciate the offer," Matthew smiled smoothly. Then, he casually reached out, wrapping his arm around Ruth's shoulders and pulling her into his side. "But Classmate Keen already offered to treat me. I'm going to celebrate alone with her."
The entire team went dead silent.
A split second later, the gym absolutely exploded into deafening, chaotic roars and obnoxious whistling.
Ruth: "?"
Before she could even utter a single syllable of protest, she was physically escorted out of the gymnasium by Matthew, completely drowned out by the aggressive cheering of their classmates.
Once they were safely outside, Ruth glared up at him. "...What are you talking about?! When did I ever agree to—"
"I was joking," Matthew smiled, completely unbothered. "But honestly, rather than eating with a massive group of guys, I'd much rather eat alone with you."
As they walked, their pace naturally slowed. Ruth looked up at his face.
The golden hour sunlight cast a glowing halo around him. Because his eyes were such a light amber color, they looked almost translucent in the sun. Whenever he focused all of his attention on one person, the intensity of his gaze was nearly impossible to withstand.
And when he smiled like that, his lips curving perfectly, he genuinely looked like a mythological siren designed solely to steal souls.
The siren tilted his head. "Is that okay?"
Motherfucker. As Ruth "Ultimate Face-Worshipper" Keen, I am genetically incapable of saying no to this face.
If you're pretty, you make the rules.
Ruth instantly abandoned all of her principles. "Yeah. It's okay."

A few weeks ago, when Ruth had failed miserably at basketball, she had told Matthew that since he loved "picking bones" so much, they should go eat fish.
So for their celebratory dinner, they naturally ended up at the famous Cambridge Catch seafood restaurant just off campus.
Even though the restaurant's name was a blatant attempt to leech off Ivy League prestige, it was actually very accurate, sitting directly on the edge of a scenic stone bridge.
Because they arrived early, the restaurant was mostly empty. The enthusiastic owner seated them immediately, and they ordered quickly.
While they were waiting for their food, Ruth noticed Matthew checking his phone constantly. He seemed to be actively arguing with someone.
After a few minutes, he looked up, catching her curious gaze.
He put the phone face-down on the table. "I have an... older brother," Matthew sighed, looking genuinely exhausted. "He is hopelessly addicted to this MMO game. He stays up all night, every night. I was just trying to tell him to fix his sleep schedule, and he started aggressively ranting at me about a software bug."
Ruth found the mental image hilarious. "Is it really that bad?"
"Yeah..." Matthew rubbed his temples. "He routinely goes to bed at 4:00 AM and sleeps for maybe four hours. My dad is genuinely terrified he's going to drop dead of sudden cardiac arrest."
William Lynes had already officially declared that if Wayne gave himself a terminal illness from gaming, he wouldn't pay a single cent of the medical bills and would freeze Wayne's trust fund immediately. He had not been joking about the GoFundMe page.
Ruth suddenly remembered the brutal stretches at Harvard where she had survived on three hours of sleep a night. Of course, she had been grinding out economic thesis papers, not raiding dungeons.
"Honestly, I kind of love staying up late," Ruth sighed nostalgically. Then, adopting a completely serious, deeply thoughtful expression, she added, "But I was reading an article the other day. It said there's actually a miracle cure for young people who chronically deprive themselves of sleep."
"Oh?" Matthew raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "What kind of cure?"
"It said you should take a specific blend of traditional herbs," Ruth began, counting them off on her fingers with absolute sincerity. "Fifteen grams each of star anise, cinnamon bark, cloves, and licorice root. Grind them into a powder, steep them in hot water, and drink it three times a day. I'm actually thinking of trying it."
"..." Matthew stared at her. He couldn't make sense of the bizarre combination. "And you believe that works?"
"Absolutely." Ruth knew for a fact that Matthew rarely scrolled through the internet for memes. She blinked at him, her eyes curving into a wicked, fox-like smile. "If you drink that every single day, when you finally drop dead from exhaustion, your corpse will smell absolutely delicious during the cremation."
Matthew slumped back in his chair, completely deadpan.
He rarely fell for her bullshit, which made this victory incredibly sweet. Looking at his expression—which loudly broadcasted 'I cannot believe I actually fell for that'—Ruth started laughing so hard her shoulders shook.
Once she finally calmed down, the waiter brought their food out.
The fish was actually cooked perfectly, with great seasoning and technique. But because it was a cheap college town restaurant, the base quality of the meat was very average.
Ruth loved seafood. The last time she was at The Buckley Estate, the private chef had served a wild-caught sea bass soup that was so impossibly tender she could still remember the taste. In comparison, the fish she was currently chewing was a bit tough and dry.
Poking at the fish with her chopsticks, Ruth felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. "I just remembered... when I was little, we used to get all our fish from the grandpa next door. He loved fishing. He'd sit by the water all afternoon and always bring us his catch."
That was the taste she actually remembered. The simple, fresh flavor of the small town, something she rarely experienced now that she was grown up.
Matthew's chopsticks paused.
He didn't know why Ruth had suddenly brought it up, but her brief description instantly reminded him of the small town she had mentioned to Helen a few weeks ago.
Matthew thought for a second, then seamlessly played along. "Me too. But where I grew up, we didn't use fishing rods. The river was so shallow we just waded in and caught them with our bare hands."
Right. Sure you did, Mr. Billionaire Heir.

The basketball tournament was officially over, but thanks to his performance, Matthew Lynes had been permanently elevated to the status of a campus deity.
The anonymous forums were absolutely flooded with girls claiming to be "Mat's devoted wives," "Mat's jersey-washers," and "Mat's leg accessories." Ruth wasn't surprised by the hype at all.
What did surprise her was the specific anatomy the forum was currently obsessing over.
Obviously, his face and his basketball skills were the main topics—there were hundreds of videos to prove it. But the third trending topic... was his waist.
Apparently, some anonymous photographer with an incredibly high-definition DSLR camera had spent the entire game exclusively taking burst-shots of Matthew wiping his sweat.
Whenever Matthew got hot, he had a habit of grabbing the hem of his jersey and pulling it up to wipe his face, flashing his perfectly sculpted abs and waist for a fraction of a second.
Capturing that kind of rapid movement without blurring the photo was incredibly difficult, but this photographer was a literal sniper. Every single photo was crystal clear. Every angle was flawless. And every single shot was... absolutely mouth-watering.
The photos completely took over the forum. Within hours, Matthew's waist was officially trending just as hard as his face.
Ruth was incredibly, inexplicably annoyed by this.
Especially when she saw the newest trending thread.
[THREAD] I have looked at these photos until my brain melted. All Mat-wives get in here! Stop just screaming and let's actually write some poetry to honor his waist.
Sitting on her bed, Ruth clicked into the thread with a completely blank expression.
Post 1 - (OP): I'll start.
One glimpse of Mat's waist so thin, makes me want to commit a sin.
(Ahem, not an English major, my poetry is trash, let's see what you guys got!)
Post 2: Honestly bars! OP is a genius. I am ready to steal all of these.
Post 3: Mat doesn't need a knife to kill, his waist alone destroys my will.
Post 4: Hahahaha what the fuck is this thread, are you guys okay?
Post 5: Stop laughing and start rhyming!
Post 12: Mat's waist is a lethal weapon, I am ready to step in.
Post 13: ...I feel like that didn't rhyme correctly.
Post 20: This thread is getting weirdly spicy, the thirst levels are toxic.
Post 21: [The internet is not a lawless place.jpg]
Post 40: Mat doesn't need a gun or a blade, one flash of his waist and I am entirely swayed.
Post 41: AHHHH THAT IS THE ONE!
Post 5: Holy shit this is the ultimate thirst poetry thread! I am saving all of these!
Post 47: It's just an undeniable fact that Mat's waist is a literal masterpiece! [Nosebleed emoji]
Post 48: Hahaha I just want to know, does Mat actually read the forum? What would he think if he saw this?!
Post 49: Don't ask. If he saw this, he'd just do the 'Old man squinting at phone' meme.
The thread was updating in real-time, new comments flooding in by the second.
Ruth was violently unhappy.
She couldn't exactly pinpoint the feeling, but if she had to describe it, it was pure, unadulterated possessiveness. She hated that everyone was staring at him.
She scrolled all the way to the bottom of the page, her fingers flying aggressively across her keyboard. With absolute, righteous indignation, she hit 'Post'.
Post 56 (Anonymous): Why is everyone only talking about his waist? Are you guys completely blind? Do you not see how absolutely phenomenal his ass is?!