Chapter 10
I’m making him uncomfortable.
Ryder’s shoulders are tense as he drives my convertible, his fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel. I should feel bad about his unease. Stop my blatant staring. But too much of me is thrilled by his reaction. By the knowledge that I still affect him in any way. Ryder is a hard person to rattle. He’s confident and controlled and assured.
A couple of blocks from the elementary school, we hit a red at one of Fernwood’s few stoplights.
Ryder glances over, meeting my gaze straight on. “What?”
“What?” I repeat.
“You’re staring.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
I lift one shoulder, then let it drop. “I like looking at you.”
I’ve said a lot tonight that I shouldn’t have. Most I’ll likely regret when I wake up sober tomorrow. But I like being honest with Ryder. I like the way he stares at me after the truth spills out, like my honesty is something precious to him.
He says nothing in response, just continues scanning my face like he’s looking for a different answer. Searching for a lie.
Then, the light turns green, and we’re moving again, the playground where his brother is waiting appearing on the right a few seconds later.
Ryder pulls off into the space reserved for school buses during daylight hours and turns off my car. “I’ll be right back.”
I slouch down in the passenger seat and rest my bare feet on the dashboard. I kicked my shoes off a few minutes into the drive. “Take your time.”
Ryder shakes his head a little before climbing out of the driver’s side. I watch as he strides across the sidewalk toward the mulch. The group of kids loitering by the swings look too young to be awake this late, let alone out here by themselves.
I wonder if Cormac has done this before. If Ryder ever did this.
Sometimes, it feels like our lives aren’t that different. Other moments, it seems like we’re from different worlds. This is an example of the latter, where I feel sheltered and naive for being surprised about this scene.
My phone won’t stop buzzing, so I pull it out, scanning the most recent messages.
JULIET: You were right.
JULIET: Alec was a mistake.
KEIRA: What happened?
MADDIE: Are you guys outside?
KEIRA: What do we think of Tucker Franklin?
KEIRA: He’s kinda cute?
JULIET: I’m with Fleur by the fireplace.
ARCHER: Whare r u?
I skip over the rest of the unread messages, only responding to Juliet, Keira, and Archer.
ELLE: Felt sick. Left early.
I power my phone off before any responses can come through, sick of the nonstop buzzing. Drop it in the cupholder and glance toward the playground.
Ryder is standing by the swings, talking to the group of kids. He towers over the tallest by a couple of feet.
I’ve never met Ryder’s little brother before. He’s five years younger than us, so he’s still in middle school.
I tilt my head back to stare up at the night sky, tracing patterns in the stars above and enjoying the lingering buzz of vodka. Rather than regret leaving Maddie’s party early, I feel relieved.
A couple of minutes later, I catch motion out of the corner of my eye. My head turns to track the two figures headed this way.
Cormac stops walking when he spots the car. Or sees me. Glimpses something. He glances at Ryder, who has a resigned look on his face as he continues toward the driver’s seat.
“Well, hello there,” Cormac drawls.
Ryder’s confidence seems to be hereditary. The brothers look alike, too, even though Ryder told me they have different fathers. I can’t tell what color Cormac’s eyes are, but his hair is the same shade as Ryder’s. Several inches longer, the style similar to the way Ryder used to wear his freshman year. I doubt that’s a coincidence.
I smile. “Hi, Cormac. It’s nice to meet you.”
Cormac starts walking again as I climb out of the passenger seat and pull it forward to access the back. I forgot about my bare feet until they kiss cold concrete, too buzzed to care about the chilly temperature or the hard texture.
“Very nice to meet you.” His grin grows.
“Cormac,” Ryder snaps, “get in the back.”
“This your ride?” Cormac ignores Ryder and stays focused on me.
“Sure is.”
“Wicked car.” Cormac shoves some of his shaggy hair out of his face to get a better look at my red convertible.
“Thanks,” I respond, smiling at his blatant admiration.
“Are you hooking up with Ryder?”
“Cormac, shut up and get in the fucking car.”
Cormac groans, but he listens to Ryder this time. “You should watch your mouth, dude. It’s rude to swear in front of pretty girls.”
I don’t quite manage to smother the snort that wants to come out as I climb back into the passenger seat. I wasn’t expecting Ryder’s little brother to be this entertaining. Bossy big brother is a side of Ryder I’ve never seen before.
“You’re grounded,” Ryder says.
“Yeah. Sure.” Cormac sounds unbothered by the prospect.
Ryder pinches the bridge of his nose before turning the car on.
I glance at the kids still on the playground. “What about them?”
“They’re good,” Ryder says. There’s a note to his voice that tells me not to ask any more questions.
“So, you’re a One, huh?” Cormac asks me from the back seat.
I glance over my shoulder. “I’m Elle.”
“Holy shit. You’re Elle Clarke?”
“Language, Cormac,” Ryder chastises.
There’s a clear note of warning in his voice, but I’m not sure it’s about the swearing. More like it has to do with opinions the Twos have about me. We might judge the kids who live in the trailer park, but they judge our mansions too.
Cormac sighs heavily. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I’ve gotta drop him at home, and then I’ll get you back,” Ryder tells me.
“No rush,” I reply, masking the excitement I’m experiencing.
Up until tonight, we hadn’t spoken since I handed him the History papers in the parking lot on the first day of school. He slouches in the back of our one shared class each morning, appearing not to pay attention, but answering every question correctly when Mr. Anderson calls on him.
I thought that meant he was over me. That any interest faded a long time ago and his avoidance was proof of that.
Now, I’m not as certain.
I didn’t give him much of a choice in taking my car tonight. But if there’s one thing I know about Ryder, it’s that he doesn’t do things he doesn’t want to. Him bringing me to his house—even if it’s just to drop off his delinquent little brother—feels like it means something. Just like him texting me back meant something. Just like him standing on that balcony with me meant something.
Or maybe I’m just looking for the signs I want to see. Inflating the bare minimum so it adds up to something significant.
“You ever been here before, Elle?” Cormac asks as Ryder takes another turn. His voice is teasing, sure of the negative answer. He’s still at the age where the segregation in town seems amusing, not plain prejudice.
“Once,” I reply.
Ryder glances over at me, but I keep my eyes straight ahead.
“Huh,” Cormac comments. “That’s a surprise.”
I say nothing in response, relieved when he doesn’t ask any more questions. Ryder’s also silent as he drives along the dirt road that’s bumpier than when I was here last. My car handles the potholes better than my bicycle did.
Ryder brakes about three-quarters down the road, beside a trailer that blends in with the mobile homes on either side. Marks on the grass serve as a parking spot that Ryder pulls into. There are a couple of overgrown bushes by the stairs that lead up to a small porch.
“Thanks for the ride.” Cormac vaults out of the back seat without waiting for me to climb out. “You know where I live, Elle, when you get sick of Ryder’s shit.”
Once Cormac disappears inside, I expect Ryder to reverse right out of the spot. He doesn’t. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at the thick hedge that separates the lot behind this one.
“Confident kid,” I say.
“Yeah.” Ryder exhales, then rubs a hand across his face. “He’s a handful.”
I’m in no hurry to leave, so I tuck my feet under me and continue studying the outside of Ryder’s home as we sit in silence.
“When?” he asks suddenly.
I swallow. “A few days later. I got … worried.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. You already said that.”
“I mean it.”
“Uh-huh.”
His exhale is exasperated. Ryder reaches for the gearshift, and I reach for him. He freezes as soon as my fingers close around his wrist, so I do too.
We both stare at the spot where we’re touching.
I loosen my grip slowly. “Can we stay? Just for a few more minutes?”
He looks at me, and I look back, and it feels like one of the most intense moments we’ve ever shared. And we’ve shared a lot of intense moments, so it’s a high bar.
It’s disarmingly intimate, holding someone’s gaze purposefully. Especially when you’ve already memorized their features. He still has a freckle above his right eyebrow. The curved scar in the left corner of his mouth—a middle school football injury from an opponent’s elbow—has faded some but not entirely. His gray eyes, more soft than stormy right now.
“Yeah.” Ryder clears his throat. “Yeah. Sure.” He kills the engine, the headlights shutting off a minute later.
I recline my seat a little so I can see the sky better. Ryder rubs his thumb along the side of the steering wheel.
Neither of us talk. We just sit.
Even around Keira and Juliet, my closest friends, I feel some compulsion to act a certain way. To play a part.
I’m honest with Ryder. Around him, it’s easier to be myself.
I wish that had changed in the past two years. Wish I didn’t know this feeling of safety and serenity still existed.
“I like your dress.”
The smile comes automatically before I glance over and catch him looking at me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Matches your eyes.”
“It’s new,” is the only thing I can think to say in response.
“Figured you had some special first day of school outfit.”
The warmth in my chest glows brighter, realizing Ryder remembers what I wore on Monday.
“So, you surf now?” I ask.
“I can, yeah. Going to be tough to get to the Cape without a car.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Tuck got me a job at his uncle’s garage. There’s an old beater he said I could fix up for some wheels.”
“You’re working at a garage?” There’s one on the periphery of town, near the trailer park, which must be the place Ryder is talking about.
“Yeah. After school.”
“So, you’re not the new quarterback?”
He huffs, his hand dropping from the wheel as he relaxes against the seat. His knee knocks against the door. It’s strange, seeing him in my car. Good strange. A sight I want to get used to.
“No. I … I need the money.”
“Is he a good guy? Tucker Franklin?”
Ryder’s eyes snap to mine. He hesitates before answering, an unspoken why hovering in the silence. “The best,” he answers.
“Keira’s interested in him.” I offer the explanation he didn’t ask for.
“She’s a friend of yours?”
“Her family has money, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, it’s not. Tuck doesn’t care about that shit.”
“That would be weird, huh?” I ask.
“If your friend dated mine?”
“Yeah.”
He looks away again.
I trace his profile with my eyes, the outline of his face and then down to the broad stretch of his shoulders. “It’s a small town.”
“Tucker know about us?”
“Not really,” Ryder replies, which isn’t the no I was expecting.
“What does that mean?”
“Means he noticed some things and made some assumptions.”
“Things …”
Ryder clears his throat. “I like looking at you too,” he says softly. “And I do it enough that Tuck noticed.”
“Oh.”
He used present tense, just like I did. Didn’t say he stared at me freshman year and imply he’s stopped paying attention since.
“You ready to go?” Ryder asks.
“You should stay here. I’ll drive myself home.”
“No.”
“I only had the one drink. Most of which you tossed in the yard. I’m fine, I promise.”
“Not happening.” The same steel as when he was bossing Cormac around reappears in Ryder’s voice.
Not wanting me to get into a car accident is a terrible litmus test for judging a guy’s feelings. But I like how the certainty in his tone sounds like caring.
Still, I can’t resist saying, “You said I should make my own choices.”
There’s a sound of amusement in the back of Ryder’s throat as he turns the car back on. “Not about this.”
“How are you going to get back here?”
“I’ll figure it out. Put your seat belt on.”
“You’re bossy.”
His cheek creases, revealing the dimple that rarely appears. “You like it.”
My stomach flips, a flash of heat dousing me like a downpour. He’s right. And this is bad. So, so bad.
“Why’d you text me earlier?” Ryder asks.
I’m honest. “I wanted to know if you’d respond. Since you’d stopped.”
“You can always text me, Elle. Or call. I saw your messages. I just … needed a clean break.”
“Did you know you were leaving? That night?”
Ryder’s smile instantly disappears. His jaw works a couple of times before he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Too bad.” I click my seat belt into place. “I already did.”