The Problem with Forever (14 page)

Chapter 13

My sense of accomplishment was strong, a bright spot in the day that glowed throughout lunch and into my afternoon classes. I sat with Keira again. I also didn’t talk, but no one seemed to be bothered by the lack of communication on my part.

Standing up to Paige was huge. Like climbing-Mount-Everest-and-not-dying level of huge. It had been Jayden who’d intervened twice now, but this time, it had been me. Might not have been much, but it had been all me.

Only when I was heading out of my next-to-last class did my stomach start doing somersaults again. Speech was next. The morning and my small victory felt like forever ago. Not only was I going to have to show my face again, but I was also going to have to see Paige once more.

Gathering up my textbook, I shoved it into my bag and stood. If I’d thought walking this morning had been like pushing through wet cement, this was like trudging through quicksand laced
with
cement.

But as I looked across the hall, my heart skipped in my chest. Wrong reaction, so wrong, but there was no stopping it.

Rider was waiting outside the classroom, leaning against the lockers across from the class, hands shoved in the pockets of the worn jeans with frayed edges.

There was an odd hitch in my throat, and my stomach cartwheeled for a whole different reason than it had before. Warmth zinged through my veins as he lifted his lashes and those soft gold-brown eyes collided with mine.

Rider looked... Goodness, he looked
good
.

Good in the way I didn’t know a teenage boy could look. Like they did on TV, when played by twenty-five-year-olds.

His brownish-black hair was messy, as if he’d woken up, washed it and then let it dry whichever way it fell. Bright yellow light glanced off his high cheekbones. The full lips were slightly tipped up in one corner, the dimple in his right cheek absent. Stretched across his broad shoulders, the emblem on his blue shirt was so faded I couldn’t make out what it was.

As he straightened, he lifted a hand and brushed the hair off his forehead. The new cut above his brow was faded, barely noticeable. That made me happy. I walked up to him, trying to keep a goofy smile off my lips.

“Hey, Mouse,” he said, and the way he said
Mouse
was so different from how Paige hurled the nickname. It was soft and deep and infinite. “What’s the plan?”

It hit me then, as I shuffled out of the way of the sea of students, that he was outside my class waiting because he knew what was coming next for me. He wanted to know the plan. Was I going or bailing, and deep down, I knew he would be right beside me no matter what I picked.

My insides turned gooey, and I told myself that anyone would feel this way, but a wisp of guilt curled around the warmth. My insides were not allowed to turn gooey for Rider. He was a goo-free zone.

A second thing occurred to me. Paige had said that Rider had always protected me and that I was somehow influencing him to do the same again. She believed I was after Rider. I hadn’t knowingly done anything, but she was right in a way. Rider had taken up for me when I left the class, followed me out, and he was here now, willing to do whatever I needed him to do.

He was still protecting me.

And that made me pathetic.

“You in or out?” he asked, glancing up as someone lightly bumped my shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

I cleared my throat. The urge to run was there, because it would be the easiest thing to do, but it was short-term. I knew that, and if I didn’t go back to class, I would never forgive myself. Squaring my shoulders, I nodded. “I’m in.”

His expression was impassive with the exception of the corner of his lips tipping up more. The dimple made an appearance, blessing the hallway. “Let’s do this, then.”

“Wait.” I grabbed his arm.

Astonishment scuttled over his face. He wasn’t used to me grabbing him. I opened my mouth, prepared to ask him about what he had told Paige. I wanted to know what he told her. I wanted to know if pity was what drove his actions. I started to speak, but people crowded us. We weren’t alone, and this seemed like a private conversation. One that really couldn’t be carried out in the minute or so between classes.

“Mouse?”

I forced a smile as I dropped his arm. He lifted his hand, rubbing it along his jaw.

Blue smudges on his fingers this time.

“Did you... Did you paint more?” I asked, touching on safe ground.

He shifted his ratty notebook to his other hand. “Kind of.”

I waited for more of a detailed response as we headed down the staircase. Rider walked beside me, taking up most of the space. Students had to squeeze past him, turning sideways, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Or care.

He didn’t elaborate, so as I ran my hand down the cool metal railing, I got my tongue working. “What does...
kind of
mean?”

We rounded the landing. “I work in the evenings. Sometimes.”

Surprise flickered through my system. “You work?”

“After school, a couple of times a week.” He glanced at me and then let out a low laugh. “You look like I just told you I’m thinking about joining a crab-fishing boat.”

I blinked as we went down the final steps. “I just didn’t...know. Where do you work?”

“Not too far from where I’m staying,” he explained.

“Staying?” I repeated, thinking that was an odd way of referring to where he was living with Hector and Jayden’s grandmother.

He nodded. “At a body garage down the street from Mrs. Luna’s house. I do some detailing for the owner. Custom paint jobs, that kind of thing.”

“Wow,” I murmured, remembering him mentioning a garage to Paige on Friday. He pushed open the door, holding it as I passed through, under his arm. “That’s pretty amazing. I mean, they must really...trust you to do that.”

Rider shrugged one shoulder like it wasn’t a big deal, but a slight flush crawled across his cheeks. I didn’t know a lot about custom paint jobs on cars, but I knew that had to be hard work with little room for error. The fact that someone trusted a teenager with that was astonishing, and I wanted to ask how he got the job, but before I knew it, we were walking into class.

He stayed by my side, and as I headed for the back of the class, Keira raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. I returned the gesture. During lunch, Keira and Jo had spent the bulk of the period talking about a new routine they were learning, much to Anna’s dismay.

I took my seat and immediately opened my textbook. The words were blurring when Hector dropped into the seat in front of Rider and asked, “How you feeling,
bebita
?”

At first, I didn’t get why he was asking and I thought about him chasing down the guy called Braden, but then I recalled the mad dash out of class Friday and Rider’s excuse. I nodded and then glanced over at Rider. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, and legs stretched out under the desk, his heavy-lidded gaze centered in my direction.

The dryness in my throat increased, the response twofold. I wanted to ask a question, but the way Rider was staring at me made me hyper self-aware. Keeping my focus on him, I got my mouth moving. “What does...
bebita
mean?”

Rider blinked and his lips slowly parted. Surprise splashed across his face. Yeah, I’d spoken in front of Hector. I felt sort of giddy. Might’ve only been a handful of words, but it was the first time I spoke to him. It was the first time I’d spoken to anyone in front of Rider since we crossed paths again. He’d never been around when Jayden had.

Biting down on my lip to stop from grinning, I dared a peek at Hector.

His light green eyes were wide, then he smiled broadly. “Means, uh, baby girl.”

“Oh,” I whispered, feeling my cheeks heat. That was kind of nice.

“It also means something he doesn’t need to be calling you,” Rider added, and my gaze darted back to him.

Hector chuckled, and when I glanced at him, he was grinning. One arm was flung over the back of his seat. “My bad,” he murmured, but nothing about the way he looked suggested he felt any guilt.

My lips twitched into a small grin.

Rider cocked his head to the side. “Uh-huh.”

I saw Paige enter the class just then, her long legs eating up the distance. She smiled at Hector as she rounded her desk. Paige didn’t sit immediately. She placed a hand on Rider’s shoulder and bent down, her face heading for his.

“Hey, babe,” she said.

I cut my focus to the front of the classroom. I didn’t need to see them kiss to know that they did. I still didn’t look when I heard a chair scratch across the floor, signaling that she was seated. A weird, burning sensation lit up my insides. It tasted bitter in the back of my mouth.

Hector was watching me.

I smiled.

The side of his lips kicked up.

A few seconds later Mr. Santos kicked off class with a clap of his hands. I tensed, my gaze swinging to the front of the classroom. Part of me expected him to make eye contact with me, nod or something that showed he was on board for Carl’s plan.

But he didn’t.

Santos cracked open his manual and passed in front of the chalkboard, going over our first speech, which we were to present in three weeks. An informative speech. The length would be three minutes. My stomach dropped to the scuffed floor. Three minutes? The first speech would be three minutes long? That was
forever
. Even though I only had to give mine in front of Mr. Santos, my heart started slamming against my ribs, but I slowed my thoughts down. I had three weeks to freak out, so I needed to chill out and I needed to pay attention right now.

I managed to get my head under control so I could hastily scribble down notes. Whenever I glanced over at Rider, he looked half-asleep. Definitely not taking notes. Paige was actually jotting things down. Hector was, well, he was looking at the cell phone he had perched on his thigh. I thought I saw exploding candies on the screen at one point.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I wanted to jump and thrust my fist into the air,
Breakfast Club
style. I managed not to do that, thank God, and instead sedately packed up my stuff.

By the time I stood, Hector was already out of the class. Keira was in the front of the room, talking to Mr. Santos. Rider was wrapping his long fingers over the ridge of his notebook, waiting.

For me.

As I swung the strap over my shoulder, the flip-flop feeling hit my tummy again, and then I realized Paige was also waiting.

For Rider.

“Hey.” Paige stepped over, curling her hand around his free one. She leaned into him.

Just like I’d done earlier, I smiled and then hightailed my butt out of there before anyone could say anything. Or at least I tried to.

“Mallory.” Mr. Santos was by the door. “Can we speak for a moment?”

Tension seeped into my shoulders as I followed him over to the podium. I watched him close a notebook.

“I won’t keep you long. I’m sure you’re ready to get out of here,” he said. The dark skin crinkled around his eyes as he smiled. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m a hundred percent behind you delivering your speeches to me.”

This was the time to speak up, to tell him that I wanted to give my speech like everyone else. I said nothing.

Mr. Santos kept talking. “I wanted you to also know that I understand. Public speaking is hard for anyone and for some, it’s nearly impossible. I’m not going to force any of my students to get up and do something that would potentially be detrimental to them.”

That was actually...kind of him.

But I could tell Mr. Santos that I could give the speech, that it wouldn’t damage me. I could find the courage and strength inside myself to do it.

I still said nothing.

“Okay?” he said.

I nodded.

Mr. Santos’s smile spread and then he nodded. “Have a good night, Mallory.”

Pivoting, I walked out of the classroom and before I could process my conversation with Mr. Santos, I saw Rider sans his girlfriend.

I looked around. “Where’s... Paige?”

“She headed out. Couldn’t wait with me,” he said, as if it was something totally cool with her, leaving him to wait for me.

My mouth opened and I started to tell him about what happened this morning, but I snapped my lips shut.

“You’ve got to go to your locker?” he asked. Thinking about what homework I had, I shook my head. He jerked his chin toward the end of the hall. “Walk you to your car?”

And that was what he did.

We filed out among the thinning stream of students heading outside, their excited voices surrounding us. It wasn’t until I saw the roof of my car glistening in the afternoon sunlight that Rider spoke. “I’m glad today was uneventful.”

There was no stopping my smile. It spread from ear to ear. “Me...me, too.” Lifting my chin, I sucked in a soft breath. Rider stared down at me, a lopsided grin tilting his lips. In a split second, I was thrown back a decade.

I’d been smaller, perched on the edge of a lumpy, narrow mattress. My stomach had been empty, twisting and churning from the hunger pains. In the middle of summer without any air-conditioning, my hair had clung to my cheeks, and sweat pooled in areas it shouldn’t have when you were sitting still.

Rider had been gone all day.

Miss Becky, during one of her rare moments of sobriety, had taken Rider to the mall with her—the nice, air-conditioned mall. Rider had been Miss Becky’s favorite. I remembered crying, because I’d wanted to go, but she had scolded me, telling me to stop acting like a baby. I’d stayed in the airless room all day, because Mr. Henry had also been home, and I hadn’t wanted to draw his attention. It was when Rider came home that night that he’d brought the doll with him.

“I felt bad,” he’d said, handing it over. He’d worn the same grin then as he did now, an odd and charming mixture of uncertainty and confidence.

What Paige had said earlier resurfaced with a vengeance.

I felt bad.

She had said that Rider had been on a guilt trip for the last four years, and now I could totally see that so clearly. It made sense. Rider had suffered in that home, but in some ways, he had been treated better than me. His guilt spurred the crazy and sometimes fatalistic need to put himself in front of Mr. Henry’s fists and me. My reappearance in his life had caused him to immediately step, once again, into the role of the protector. I felt... Suddenly, I felt gross. Like I’d been outside all day when it was muggy. I wanted to go home, strip off my clothes, burn them and then shower for days. The weight of the pity he must have felt for me and the level of guilt he’d carried was suffocating. Stupid tears burned the back of my throat.