I was pretty average. Average face. Average body, neither big nor small. Beautiful wasn’t an option that crossed my mind.
“You’re beautiful, too. I mean, you’re hot,” I blurted out. “But I always knew you would be.” My eyes widened as I realized what just streamed out of my mouth, and his grin turned into a smile. “Oh my God, I did not just say...any of that out loud.”
“You did.”
“Ugh.”
Tipping his head back, he laughed deeply. And he laughed like he had in those rare instances when something truly amused him. He did so with a freedom I’d envied.
I started to place my hands over my flaming face, but he caught my wrists, holding them between us. His eyes were lighter, dancing. “I can pretend you didn’t say that if that makes you feel better,” he suggested.
Oh yes, that would be fabulous. I nodded.
“I won’t forget it, though.”
Embarrassment flooded me, but Rider was grinning as he scooted closer and tugged me over. Before I knew what he was doing, he’d tucked my hips between his thighs and circled his arms around me, holding me tight to his chest.
His really hard chest.
The contact jolted me, like touching a live wire. It took a couple of seconds for me to relax.
He was silent as he rested his chin on the top of my head, and I didn’t say anything as I squeezed my eyes shut against the rising tide of emotion. Being this close to him again was something so powerful the connection was tangible, a third entity.
One hand drifted up my back, a slow slide under the weight of my hair. He curled his fingers around the nape of my neck. His chin moved, grazing my forehead, and the intimacy of the act was so different than any of the other times he’d been this close. An odd warmth settled in my muscles. Like stepping out into the sun for the first time after a long winter. There was a moment when I wasn’t sure if he breathed, because I didn’t feel his chest move under my hands.
In the back of my head, I wondered how...how okay this was. I didn’t want to pull away and break the connection, but I thought that maybe I should. This was innocent. It had to be, but it was also different.
“Do you have someone to eat lunch with normally?” he asked, and his voice seemed off to me. Deeper.
Keeping my eyes closed, I wasn’t sure how to answer that and I also didn’t pull away. I wasn’t sure what that said about me or if it said anything at all.
“Mouse?”
“There’s a girl in my English class. She...invited me to sit with her.”
The arm around my waist seemed to have tightened. “Who?”
“Keira... I don’t remember her last name.”
A heartbeat passed. “I know her. She’s in our speech class. Pretty cool girl. You going to take her up on the offer? If not, I can meet you for lunch.”
But he had a class right now that he was supposed to be in.
Then it hit me. Rider... Wow, he really hadn’t changed. Even after four years, even if he was supposed to be in class and even though he had a girlfriend, he would be there for me if I told him I needed him. Stupid tears pricked at my eyes. “You don’t need to do that. I’m going to sit with her.”
His fingers moved along my neck, searching out the muscles. “You sure?”
My heart was a puddle of mush. “Yes. She invited me... She asked if I wanted to try out for cheerleading.”
Rider’s hand stilled. “Mouse...”
I grinned.
“You’re not considering that, are you?” he asked after a moment. Then he trailed off and suddenly pulled back, arms and everything.
The sudden loss of the closeness forced my eyes open. His profile was to me, jaw taut, and he was staring out over the pavilion, toward the parking lot. There was a car idling in the rows of parked vehicles, some sort of sedan. From what I could tell, the windows were tinted to the point you couldn’t see who or what was inside.
A door shut, and my attention swung toward the exit we’d come out of earlier. I saw Jayden walking out, hitching up his pants as he walked across the pavilion, toward the steel gate.
“Shit,” Rider muttered under his breath.
I stiffened as a sense of wariness slipped over him. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He watched Jayden slip out the gate and make his way to the car. The younger boy bent at the waist as the driver’s window rolled down. Rider patted my leg, drawing my gaze. “The bell’s about to ring. Why don’t you go ahead in?”
Something cold and hard was etched into the lines of his face. I didn’t like it. “Rider...”
“Everything is okay. I promise,” he said, tapping my leg again, and then he stood as the double doors opened again. This time it was Hector who was coming outside, and the look on his face said he was not happy. Rider took my hand, pulling me up. “I’ll see you in class.”
Nodding, I gathered up my stuff and stepped over the bench. Hector didn’t look at me as he joined Rider, and neither of them spoke as they pivoted, heading toward the gate. I watched them, knowing deep down that something was up and whatever it was, it wasn’t okay.
I didn’t see Rider in speech class.
His seat was empty, and I couldn’t help but think it had something to do with that car that had shown up. Although we got to spend some time catching up, I knew nothing about what Rider had been doing these four years beyond living with Hector’s grandmother.
Some would probably disagree, but I wasn’t completely naive or sheltered. I’d grown up in a house where I saw a lot of stuff. The month I’d spent in the group home was also pretty educational. Guys would hang around outside the building, recruiting younger kids to run drugs. I’d seen older kids in that house pass out mid-conversation. In a matter of a month, I knew kids who simply vanished, lost to the streets. I also had a good idea why Jayden’s eyes were bloodshot yesterday, and a tinted-out vehicle rolling up into the parking lot probably wasn’t full of people selling Girl Scout cookies.
A niggle of worry formed in my belly as I wondered what kind of stuff Rider could be up to. But under the worry was something else, something I wasn’t sure I should acknowledge. Because Paige wasn’t in class, either, and I wasn’t stupid. Rider had left school. So had Paige. Whatever was going on, they were probably together. A burning sensation hit the center of my chest, and I told myself it was indigestion, that it had nothing to do with Rider holding my hand, telling me I was beautiful when I knew he had to be telling Paige the same and meaning it in a totally different way.
It took effort to focus on Mr. Santos’s lecture about different types of speeches. Santos paced, moving his hands wildly as he spoke. Excitement practically poured from the man. I glanced down at my binder, seeing
