22. Ryder #2
“Good. I bet Felix was happy.” She glances up at me, and my heart clenches. But also hearing his name, I laugh.
“I’m not sure if he even heard me come in. He’s a hard sleeper after he plays all day and tries to destroy my couch.”
“Where does he sleep?”
My cheeks heat. Can’t stop them.
“He sleeps in bed with me. Some cats curl up, but not this one. It’s like he stretches his body out to the max to see how much room he can take up.”
“Maybe I can meet him one day,” she says quietly.
Is she saying she wants to come over? The thought of having her alone, with no eyes on us and nowhere to be, does strange things to my chest. A million times I’ve thought about what it would be like for her to be in my house. I guess it didn’t occur to me that she would be thinking about it too.
“Alice.” We stop walking. “You can come over whenever you want. Open door policy to you, and I’m certain the moment Felix meets you, he’ll love you more than me.”
“I am pretty lovable,” she teases, and then starts walking again.
For such a long time, I loved her. And then I spent years hating her. Now, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing. Is there a chance that Alice and I can make it through this? Or are we finishing a very long chapter of my life? Our life?
Either way, I’m still on the train that is Alice. My gut tells me that eventually we’re going to crash, but I can’t get off. I don’t even want to.
“Oh, a photo booth! Come on, let’s go.” Alice pulls on my elbow.
I’m a little reluctant for two reasons. One, I’m not sure I want to add to our collection.
A collection of photo booth pictures that I have in a box on the top shelf in my closet.
And two, what if people see us get in it and make assumptions?
We haven’t done anything wrong here today, but I feel like all eyes are on us.
She stops and turns to look at me. “You don’t want to? Okay, I’m sorry for suggesting it.”
Her disappointment is all I need to make my feet move. I hate that I would give this girl the world if she wanted it.
“That’s not it. I get wrapped up in the handbook rules. I don’t want to get you in trouble. Because it would be you, not me. You know that, right?”
“Oh, I get it, but I’m not worried. If it makes you feel any better, I have an old picture of us in my wallet. If we’re asked what we’re doing, I could pull it out to show and compare.”
I know which one she’s talking about. It’s from homecoming senior year. We cut the strip in half, she put hers in her wallet, and I did the same, and we made a bet to see who would keep it there the longest.
“You still carry that picture around?” I don’t tell her that I do as well. It’s hidden in a back pocket under my license where I don’t find it often. I never could get rid of it.
Her eyes widen like she’s just given away something she didn’t want me to know, and instead of answering, she nods.
I don’t respond. I walk beside her and soak up that she still wants to be near me after that kiss last night, and after all this time, she still carries me around with her too.
Speaking of last night . . .
“So how do you feel after last night?” I ask her warily, looking around to see if anyone heard us.
She looks up at me, and her cheeks tint pink. All this time, all these years, I’ve always been the one who blushes uncontrollably over every little thing, but lately, hers seem to mimic mine.
“I feel great,” she says, full of sureness, letting me know that she means it. “Actually, I feel really great.” Her cheeks move from pink to red, and I know mine now match hers.
“No regrets?” I need to truly know how she feels. I can’t have a repeat of four years ago. Just because she kissed me, it could have been out of curiosity or pity—who knows.
“Not one.” She shakes her head.
“Good to know.” My voice is heavy, but my heart feels light.
The back of her hand brushes against mine, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I drape my arm over her shoulders and pull her in close.
Will I hear shit from my teammates? Absolutely.
I’m certain someone is watching us, probably even taking a picture, yet I don’t care.
Together we walk into the tiny photo booth and close ourselves off from the world.
“I forgot how tight it was, and you’re ginormous,” she says, looking at the three-foot bench.
A chuckle escapes me, and I pinch my lips together.
“What?” she asks.
“I’m not even going to touch that one.” And then I openly laugh at how I just made it worse.
Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops as she slaps me in the stomach. “You know what I meant!”
“Yep,” I tell her, grinning. We’ve never joked around or had sexual banter. It was a line we didn’t cross, but I definitely could be on board for more.
“Sit down, and I’ll sit on your lap.”
“We can make more room.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down.
“Oh my God. You better stop.” She laughs. I love that sound.
Sitting on the bench, I widen my legs so she can step between them. Cautiously, she sits down on one thigh, and I lift her legs to drape over mine.
“Comfortable?” Since she’s so small, we’re basically eye to eye.
“Yes,” she says quietly, her eyes dropping from mine to my lips.
Without thinking, I swipe my thumb back and forth across her thigh. Her skin is smooth, and having her this close is a turn-on that’s affecting me in more ways than one.
The camera in these things goes fast, usually like four to five seconds to change poses, so when Alice hits the button and wraps her arm around me, I immediately know these pictures are not going to be like the rest in the box.
Her eyes lock with mine, and she pulls me down so our foreheads are touching. Hot air and a newfound tension blow between us, as we’re both breathing hard. Does she feel the need to be as close to me as I do with her?
Flash.
Alice tilts her face, and her lips brush across my cheek and the corner of my mouth, where they come to rest. I can’t help the groan that slips out. My hand tightens on her thigh, and I pull her closer. I want her as close as she can get.
Flash.
This time, I grip the back of her head and lean her back a little while lightly kissing her lips.
Flash.
I pull back to see her reaction, and there’s no mistaking the desire in her hooded eyes. It’s a reflection of my own.
Flash.
“Let’s get out of here,” she whispers.
I don’t have to be told twice.