The Problem with Forever (30 page)

Chapter 29

Rider grinned as he eyed the open bedroom door from where he sat on the window seat. I was sitting in the middle of the bed with my speech textbook open in front of me. We were supposed to be working on the next speech, one we were to deliver on someone who was important to us. I’d given my persuasive speech during lunch last week, which hadn’t been hard to write though was still painful to deliver, but this one was giving me fits.

There were so many people I could write about. How could I just pick one? Taking a deep breath, I started writing again.

There are several important people in my life, people who have had a hand in changing who I am.

I stopped, sighing. It seemed obvious that I’d write about Carl or Rosa, but putting why they were important to me into words on paper was harder than I realized. I didn’t want to go too deep into why they were so important even though Mr. Santos probably already knew part of it.

Rider pulled a sheet of notebook paper free, crumpled it up and then tossed it at me. I had no idea who he was writing his speech on. When I’d asked, he’d said he was going to write about Peter Griffin from
Family Guy
, and I was guessing—hoping—he hadn’t been serious, because I doubted Mr. Santos would appreciate that.

I smiled as it landed among pieces of paper I’d painstakingly straightened. I knew without even opening it, it would be a drawing of some sort. This had become his habit over the last month, whenever we studied together.

I would study.

He would draw.

I would tell him to do his homework.

He would distract me in the best possible ways.

Things had been...different but the same in the weeks following the night of Peter’s party. Ainsley’s field vision test had confirmed what the doctor had diagnosed. She was losing peripheral vision—already lost about thirty percent without realizing it. The doc had told her she would still have several years of functioning vision and that with all the advancements in that medical field, there would likely be a cure.

Likely.

Ainsley didn’t really talk about it. I wished she would, because I knew better than anyone that staying silent wasn’t always the answer. There were some things you needed to talk about, and this was one of them.

Carl really hadn’t warmed up to Rider, not even when he had dinner at our place at least once a week, but at least he hadn’t interrogated Rider again. He’d graduated to silently stuffing his face during those meals while Rosa kept the conversation going. So that was a plus.

And things with Rider had been more than good.

They had been...new and exciting and fresh. Fun. And when I did something kind of crazy two weeks ago, he hadn’t gotten mad or uncomfortable.

As seniors we had to meet with the guidance counselor to discuss colleges and future plans, and while I’d been in the office, I’d picked up an SAT application. Not for me. I’d taken mine already. I’d picked it up for Rider. That same day, after school, I stopped at an art supply store and bought a generic, cheap portfolio. I’d given both things to Rider that night, after dinner, and he’d stared at them for so long, at first I feared I’d made a mistake. But then he’d smiled and thanked me.

I just wanted him to see that there were options for him and that he should be proud of his work. College shouldn’t be off the table if he did want to go.

The next day he had taken me to the art gallery in the city where his painting still hung. And just as I had the day he’d first taken me to the abandoned factory, I found myself transported. Five feet tall and nearly as wide, the painting reminded me of the first one he’d shown me. It was a boy, but this time he wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking straight out, staring everyone in the face as they walked by, daring them not just to look at him, but to
see
him. I marveled again at the fact that he’d done this with spray paint.

Like before, it had been hard to look away from the painting, and even after we’d left the gallery, I couldn’t forget the look of...
settled
hopelessness. The kind of look that said no one expected anything to change.

It stayed with me, even as I picked up the ball of paper Rider had tossed.

The first drawing he’d done while we’d studied was of the Baltimore skyline. I’d made him put it in the portfolio and his face was red the entire time. It was cute. There were at least two more lying on my bed right now that would be perfect for the book—the sketch of a sleeping golden retriever and the one he’d drawn of a mustang.

I carefully opened up the ball of paper. My mouth dropped open in amazement and I looked over at him. “You drew this in a couple of minutes?”

He shrugged a shoulder as he twirled his pen. “It was more like ten.”

“Ten minutes? That’s still unbelievable.”

Awed, I lifted the piece of paper. In the time it had taken me to write a single sentence, he’d sketched me as I was right that second.

He’d captured the messy bun atop my head and replicated my profile as I stared at the speech I was working on. Brows lowered in concentration. I must’ve been biting my lower lip. There was even the freckle under my right eye. Every detail etched in blue ink. It was me, but it didn’t look like me. This girl appeared older and more mature. The slope of the shoulders sophisticated. Sounded weird, but as I stared at the sketch, it was like seeing a different version of myself. A better version of myself.

Did I really look like that to him?

Perched on my shoulder was a butterfly. I thought that was a strange addition until my gaze lifted from the drawing and traveled to the desk. The butterfly carving that I’d started well over a month ago sat unfinished there.

It was finished in his sketch.

I laid the piece of paper on my textbook and carefully smoothed out most of the wrinkles. This one wasn’t going in his portfolio. I was going to keep this forever.

“You like it?” he asked.

“I love it.”

He chuckled, and when I glanced over at him, the pen was moving over his notebook. “Have you written anything for the speech?”

“Of course.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe.”

“Rider,” I sighed.

He looked up through his lashes. “It won’t take me that long to write something up. Besides, this is a better use of my time.”

“How so?”

“The drawings make you smile,” he replied with a grin. “Working on the speech doesn’t do anything.”

That...that was so sweet, I wanted to hug him tight, kiss him, too. “Working on your speech will make me smile, too.”

His brows lifted and then he flipped his notebook closed. “I know what else will make you smile.”

“What? You actually doing some homework?”

“Nope.” He glanced at the door again and then rose. “I think me sitting closer to you will make you smile.”

The boy knew me well.

He took a step closer. “I think holding your hand will make you smile.”

I straightened as I watched him.

“And I think...” He sat on the edge of the bed and twisted his body toward mine. “I think kissing you will make you smile, too.”

Oh, dear. I’d totally lost control of this conversation, but I liked it. The corners of my lips tipped up. “I think you’re right.”

“I know, but...” He placed his hand over mine and lowered his voice. “If Rosa comes up here and catches me making you smile in that way, it’ll end badly.”

“You’re not worried about Carl coming up here?”

The right dimple appeared as he shook his head. “Rosa scares me more.”

Laughing, I shoved his arm.

“What? She’s pretty scary. Like badass scary,” he replied. “She looks like she knows how to fight ninja-style.”

“Ninja-style?” I laughed again. “I can confirm that...she does not know karate.”

“That’s a relief.” Leaning over, he kissed my cheek. “It’s about that time.”

Unease curled low in my stomach. Party round two. It was going to be a very different party, not nearly as big as Peter’s. It was just hanging out at someone’s house, a guy from school that Hector and Rider played basketball with. Ainsley wouldn’t be with us, but I was still nervous. What if I bailed again, unable to do it? What if I didn’t talk to anyone? What if I was so worried about doing the wrong thing that I didn’t even try?

He tilted his head to the side, eyes searching mine. “We don’t have to go. We can stay here. Or go to the movies.”

Staying here would be nice. Movies would be awesome, but what did that accomplish? I shook my head. “No. I want to go.”

“Mouse...”

“I’m serious.” I ducked my chin as I picked up the sketch of me and closed my notebook. Scooting to the edge of the bed, I stood and walked over to my desk. “I want to go to the party.”

“It’s not really a party,” he said. “It’s just going to be a couple of people hanging out at a house. Not a big deal if we miss it. There will be more.”

Opening a drawer in my desk, I rooted around until I found the roll of tape. “We’re going.”

There was a pause. “Yes, ma’am.”

I cracked a smile as I taped the sketch to the wall above my desk. “Wait here?”

His eyes were on the sketch. “Not going anywhere.”

Walking out, I grabbed my makeup bag and took it to the hallway bathroom before I lost my nerve and ended up changing my mind. I pulled out the bobby pin and then ran a brush through my hair. I quickly retouched the makeup—lipstick, blush and added mascara. I figured the sweater dress and thin tights were good enough.

Rider was waiting for me like he said, and when I walked in, his gaze did a slow slide that left a wake of shivers. “I really love it when your hair is down.”

My heart did a little skip at the word
love
and I told my heart to stop being stupid. “Thank you.”

He rose and within three steps he was in front of me, lifting up a heavy strand of hair. “Such a gorgeous color now. Don’t get me wrong, the orange was cute...”

I rolled my eyes. “The orange was not cute.”

He ignored that. “I have no idea what I’d have to mix, color-wise, to get this shade, but I’m going to figure it out.” Then he lowered his head and kissed the freckle below my eye.

I started to lean into him, but Carl’s voice echoed through the house, and I figured that wouldn’t be the best idea. “Let’s do this.”

On the way out, I grabbed my phone and a small purse. We headed downstairs to the kitchen, where I swiped my keys off the counter.

“You guys heading out?”

We turned at the sound of Carl’s voice. “Yes.”

Carl crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Rider. “And where are you going?”

I responded before Rider could. “We’re going to a friend’s house.”

“I thought you two were studying.” Suspicion clouded Carl’s tone.

“We were and we’ve finished.” Which wasn’t a lie.

He didn’t look like he believed us, but before he could say anything else, Rosa entered the living room. “Neither of you have a jacket?”

“We aren’t going to be outside for very long.” I glanced at Rider. He was just wearing a thermal under his shirt. At least my sweater dress was thick.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Thank you again for the sandwich, Mrs. Rivas.”

Rider had thanked Rosa so many times for the ham and cheese sandwich she’d made us when he first came over that I was seriously starting to believe that he was really afraid of her.

Carl eyed Rider stonily. “Her curfew is eight.”

“What?” My eyes widened as my grip tightened on the keys. “My curfew has always been eleven.”

Rosa stepped forward, placing a hand on Carl’s shoulder. “Make sure she is home before eleven.”

“I’ll have her back by eight,” said Rider, and my mouth dropped open. Before I could say anything, he added, “I promise.”

Carl’s lips were pressed in a thin line, and I waited for him to thank Rider or something, but all he did was nod curtly. Anger pricked at my skin. Rosa was trying, kind of, but Carl wasn’t. At all.

I reached down, wrapping my hand around Rider’s. A muscle throbbed along Carl’s temple, and I squeezed Rider’s hand. I didn’t say anything until we were outside, in the bright sunlight.

“I’m sorry about Carl,” I said. “He’s just...really protective.”

“It’s okay.” Rider dropped my hand as we neared my car, and I knew that it really wasn’t okay. “I understand.”

I frowned. “Understand what?”

He lifted a shoulder as he snatched the keys out of my hand. “Everything.”

* * *

The large, rundown industrial building across from the ancient row homes reminded me a little of Rider’s abandoned factory. Windows were boarded up and the faded red brick was covered from the ground to the roof in graffiti. I knew it wasn’t Rider’s, because it wasn’t nearly as beautiful, but it did create an odd combination of dull shades and bright, in-your-face color.

Rider pulled into a parking lot that was partially enclosed with high, chain-link fencing. Half the fence had fallen down, and someone had piled up the broken sections in one corner of the lot. The off-white pavement threatened to crumble beneath our feet as we walked out.

“Is it okay for the car to be parked here?” I asked. I’d never been to this neighborhood, but I knew it wasn’t too far from where he lived.

Rider nodded as I dropped my keys into the purse. “No one will mess with it.”

I wasn’t necessarily worried about anyone messing with it. More like it getting towed away due to all the No Trespassing signs plastered everywhere.

Rider took my hand as we crossed the narrow street. “This is Rico’s place. It’s not the nicest, but we won’t be bothering Mrs. Luna by hanging over here when she gets home from work.”

My throat had dried as we climbed the wide steps. Rider didn’t even knock. Just opened the door and we went right inside. Laughter echoed through the dark entryway and there was that rich, earthy scent.

“Hey, man,” an older guy said. He was sitting in a recliner, a tall bottle in his hand. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” replied Rider. He squeezed my hand. The living room was full of people. My gaze darted nervously as Rider started to introduce me to the guys in the room. I recognized Rico, but I hadn’t seen anyone else before.