I sat perched on top of the booth; legs dangling on either side of the A-shaped roof, watching both teams run drills on opposite sides of the field. Ryland’s team wore deep blue shorts and matching shirts, each one emblazoned with a giant dragon spewing a perfect line of fire. The dragon wasn’t the school mascot, however; it was the logo of Ryland’s father’s company, Imdalind Forging. Being around Ryland so much, I often forgot how large his family’s company was and how much it had a hand in everything Ryland did.
After about an hour of drills and prep, the crowd began to file in. When the slow trickle became a steadier flow I decided it was time to leave my roost, so I wouldn’t get in trouble. I moved my way down the steep slant of red asphalt shingles, freezing in place when a hot trickle moved up my spine. I looked up, afraid some bird had decided to humiliate me, but stopped halfway at the sight of Edmund strolling into the stands.
He wore all black, his good looks accentuated by a heavy leather jacket and diminished by his usual scowl. I glued my body to the roof. Okay, I really shouldn’t be there.
Edmund was accompanied by a shorter boy who appeared to be about Ryland’s age, but given his height, it was hard to tell. His features were rough and rounded, giving him an odd child-like quality that didn’t fit him at all. He had unkempt, deep red hair and eyes so dark that, from my distance, looked almost black.
I sought out Ryland, fully prepared to glare daggers at him, only to find his face panicked as he looked back and forth between his father and me. I guess Edmund’s appearance was a surprise for him, too.
Ryland looked at me one last time before he turned and began signaling his father down. I took Ry’s distraction at full value and dropped the remaining six feet before rushing to find a seat that was, hopefully, far enough away.
I dodged through the growing throng of people, my femininity becoming apparent. I was one of a sprinkling of girls surrounded by the over rambunctious boys of Whittier Academy, most in their bright blue blazers, even though it was a Saturday. I dodged through them, trying to avoid the catcalls that had started the second I had been noticed in the stands.
Oh, the joys of being among boys stuck in an all boy school. Any time they even got around a girl, the hormones came out like crazed tiger cubs surrounded by fresh meat. Luckily, Tyler Brand, one of Ryland’s friends I had met a few times, found me as I darted around, inviting me to sit next to him and his friends. I was still noticed far more than I was comfortable with and part of me wished I could sit alone; but with Edmund so close, it just wasn’t safe.
I slid closer to Tyler and his group, attempting to make polite conversation; all the while, I kept looking around to find out where Edmund and the mysterious boy were going to sit. I had forgotten how hard it was to keep up a conversation with anyone other than Ryland. I tried to interject as much as I could, but I kept tripping over my words and making awkward comments. Before long, the group began to look at me with the expression I knew all too well: the look that said they knew something was just a bit off about me. Eventually, I gave up and sat back, making sure my hair covered my mark so it wouldn’t give them another thing to dislike about me.
Edmund had chosen a seat in the front row about two sections over, the red headed boy still right beside him. The boy looked almost protective, like he was supposed to be Edmund’s bodyguard. I had never seen him before, so I guess he could be. What bothered me the most about him was that he kept standing and looking at the crowd. It wasn’t the casual glance for trouble; it was the deep stare of someone who was searching for something or someone. Several times his look lingered in my direction, and I felt my spine stiffen uncomfortably.
Even with the mysterious boy’s continued stares, the game went by quickly, and I found myself enjoying it more than I had thought I would. I couldn’t help but join in with the crowd’s excited screams and cheers; their excitement was infectious, and before long, I was smiling from ear to ear. Ryland was right; a good Rugby game was the pick-me-up I needed. The Whittier Academy team made a scramble toward their line and I got swept up in the screams and hollers of hundreds of boys, anticipation of another goal resonating through everyone.
Ryland’s team had the ball, passing it from teammate to teammate as they ran down the pitch. The ball got to Ryland, only for him to be tackled roughly by the opposing team when two players lunged at him, sending him backward into three more. All five members and Ryland went down in a spectacular heap of bodies. The ball continued on; however, it took a moment before Ryland stood again, a bit of blood dripping from a cut on his lip.
I stood in worry. I must have looked ridiculous because I heard Tyler laugh beside me.
“He’s fine,” he yelled over the roar of the crowd. “It’s normal.”
I nodded as I looked back to the field to see that Ryland had already run to rejoin the play. I had seen a few of these tackles during this game alone, but it still seemed rough, given that the players wore no padding. I sat down; aware that Edmund’s bodyguard was staring in my direction again.
Ryland jostled back into place among the running bodies. The ball quickly passed to him, but this time, he avoided all of the other players as he weaved around each of them. Once he passed them, the wide expanse of field lay before him. He took off in a dead run toward the goal line, his strong legs pumping him forward until he reached the other end of the field for a glorious goal. Our side of the stadium erupted as Ryland turned around in a sort of victory salute.
“26 – 19, with one minute left. We are the State Champs!” Tyler yelled, drowning out the voice of the announcer who tried in vain to say that Ryland had scored the winning points.
Ryland continued to dance and move about as the members from his team surrounded him. He sought me out before blowing a kiss in my direction. I looked around for who his gesture was aimed at before turning back to him in shock. What a dangerous thing to do with his father right there. I wasn’t sure if I should be overjoyed or scared. My eyes locked with his, as my heart stuttered to a stop before he turned and ran back onto the field. I couldn’t bring myself to move.
“I didn’t know you and Ryland were like that,” Tyler yelled suggestively in my ear.
My mind clicked back into action and I turned to face him. “What?”
“You know. I didn’t know he loved you.” He stretched out his vowels in a taunt. I stared at him, unsure of what to say. I looked away from Tyler, not wanting to give him the glory of an answer. I was confused about what I would say anyway.
The finality of the game explained the excitement level of the crowd. Everyone was yelling at the top of their lungs, jumping up and down. Banners of blue and silver waved all around me as the boys began the deep booming war cry that was the signature of their team. I couldn’t help but join in, knowing my petite voice wouldn’t even be heard among them.
The ending whistle sounded and the stands emptied as the occupants rushed the field. The banners multiplied, and the screaming and yelling increased in amplitude—if that was possible. I was swept up with them in the excitement, forgetting that Ryland’s father was still in such close proximity. I didn’t care, though; I wanted to find Ryland somewhere in the crowd and throw myself in his arms and congratulate him.
I made it about halfway to the field before a sharp pain shot into my chest, causing me to stop short. It felt like I had been burned. My hand moved to the pain, shocked to feel Ryland’s necklace red hot under my sweater. As soon as my hand made contact with it, the heat left it, taking the pain away. I looked at my hand and sweater, expecting to see welts or scorch marks, but nothing was there. I continued to stand in place as the crowd jostled me around in their attempts to pass my stationary form.
One perfectly placed shoulder was all it took to take me down. The force of the jolt sent me down hard. I threw my hands out in front of me, but not in time. My knee hit first, meeting the hard asphalt of the track that surrounded the field, a jolt of pain surging through my leg. My hands hit next, sliding against the asp
halt in a deep grind that rattled my wrists. I winced with the pain that moved through my joints, waiting for my brain to catch up with me. A warm, stinging sensation spread across my knee, a telltale sign I was bleeding.
The bodies flowed past me in a steady stream I could barely see through. Knees, feet and legs jostled me around, digging my injured joints further into the ground. I looked around for some form of safety from them.
I had just caught sight of the home team’s benches when a giant tug grew out of my chest; it felt like someone had grabbed the necklace in an attempt to pull me toward safety. I followed the inward pull, my hand fluttering around my sweater to shoo away whatever was pulling at me.
I pulled myself onto the bleachers, the changing angle sending a sharp sting through my knee. My jeans had ripped, revealing a couple of bleeding cuts. My mom was going to kill me; I only had a few pairs of jeans and we couldn’t afford to buy a new pair right now.
I winced as I removed the loose bits of asphalt from my knee and the palms of my hands; my hands had small scrapes, but no blood was drawn. With the asphalt gone, the cuts on my knee didn’t look so bad, but they still stung. I screwed up my face in irritation, resigning myself to sit there until the crowd thinned out and Ryland found me.
I had only sat still a moment before Ryland burst through the rambunctious crowd in front of me, his brow furrowed in worry. His chin was dribbled in dry blood, his battered lip now swollen and blue. He looked at me before catching sight of my knee and dropping down to inspect it.
“Are you all right? I got here as quickly as I could.” His hands hovered around my knee before deciding the jeans were a lost cause. He reached out, obviously intent on ripping them more.
“No, don’t!” I pleaded.
“What?”
“I need these jeans, Ry.” I hoped he would catch my meaning without my having to profess my poverty.
“I’ll buy you some more.” He smiled shyly before pulling his hands apart, ripping the jeans down to the seam.
Great, my mom was definitely going to kill me now. They weren’t even patchable. I highly doubted she would let Ryland actually buy me a pair of new jeans, either. The cuts weren’t even that bad; they just liked to bleed a lot.
“Did you see me fall?” I asked, wondering what he had meant before.
Ryland looked up at me, a confused look on his face.
“You got here ‘as quickly as you could’?” I asked, repeating his phrasing.
He still sat at my feet, trying to find something to stop the bleeding.
“Yeah, I was standing over there,” he said, jutting his chin in the direction he came from.
He looked around a bit, as if he were looking for someone rather than something. Seeming not to find anyone specific, he sighed and removed his Rugby jersey.
My heart stopped. His muscles rippled as he removed the shirt, sweat glistening off every part of him. I should have been disgusted, but I couldn’t tear my dumbfounded stare away from him. His muscles were more spectacular than I would have expected: large defined shapes—dare I say—chiseled into his skin. He had a large bandage wrapped around his right shoulder, as if he was nursing an injury. I didn’t know that he had been hurt, though; he normally told me about these things. The whole image of him standing before me was like a bad cover on a romance novel. I forced myself to look away as he wrapped the shirt around my knee.
“It’s not the most sanitary, but it will work for now.” He tied the shirt before sweeping me up in his arms, careful to hold me away from his sweaty body.
“Ry! Put me down! I can walk!”
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips as he carried me out of the stadium.
I looked behind us, seeing the horde of people jumping and cheering, and felt a pang of guilt.
“You’re going to miss your party,” I whispered, knowing the pleading was evident in my voice.
He didn’t slow his pace, but his jaw hardened and his hold on me tightened.
“Don’t worry about it.” His voice was controlled.
“Ry, it’s your senior year; you just won State. You. You scored the final points. You need to be there!”
He didn’t respond as he set me in the passenger seat of his bright yellow Lotus.
“Okay, how about I take you home and then I’ll come back? I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I can stay, Ryland,” I pleaded. “It’s just a little cut.”
“It’s not safe for you here.” He shut the door behind me and walked around the car. I turned my head toward the party. I wanted to stay, too, whether it was ‘safe’ or not.
“What do you mean, it’s not safe? Is it because your dad showed up?”
He threw the car in reverse, ignoring my question.
“Ryland?”
“It’s just… Private school guys tend to drink a lot and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
It seemed like the lamest excuse I had ever heard. My forehead must have wrinkled in surprise, because Ryland laughed and then reached over to smooth my forehead with his thumb.
“You think I can’t fend off a bunch of drunken brats?” I was affronted. I may come off as timid, but I could defend myself. Or, at least, I hoped I could.
I hadn’t actually had the chance to prove that.
“I know you can’t,” he replied.
“Have some faith in me, Ry.” I don’t know why, but my pride bristled.
Ryland looked at me with obvious concern. “Drinking, drugs. We are all just spoiled boys. You shouldn’t be around that.”
“We?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t counting himself among them.
“Just trust me, ’kay? I know it kinda sucks, but I want to protect you.” His comment was odd; it still made no sense why I couldn’t stay.
“Protect me?”
“Yes, Jos. There are just some people that you shouldn’t be around.” His voice seemed distant and far away, as if he were thinking about something different. I opened my mouth to say something, but I blew off the idea of asking any more questions. He was set in his thoughts and not likely to respond.
He drove far too fast, his car weaving in and out of traffic in a mad rush to get back to my tiny apartment. We didn’t go to my house though; we went to his. He pulled through the large wrought iron gates, speeding back to the door by the kitchen. His sporty Lotus looked ridiculous next to my mom’s rusty station wagon, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
I moved to get out of the car, but Ryland rushed around and picked me up before I could stand. The car ride had rid his skin of the glistening sweat, and he now held me close to his chest. The warmth from his skin seeped through my sweater and spread over my skin comfortably.
“I can walk, Ry,” I protested, albeit half heartedly. He smiled down at me as he walked across the parking lot and into the kitchen that was empty except for my mother.
“What happened?” my mom asked, her eyes bugging out of her head.
“She fell on some asphalt and cut her knee. I need to get back, but wanted to make sure she was okay first,” he explained to her, his eyes never leaving mine. I heard my mom exclaim and rush out of the kitchen, presumably for a first aid kit.
Ryland lowered me to the barstool I usually sat on. His movements were slow and controlled, his face lingering near mine for longer than was necessary. I was overwhelmed by his smell as he shifted, his face inches from mine. I swallowed, my mind filled with images of our interlocked lips; I didn’t push them away this time.
Ryland lifted his hand to my face, resting it against my jawline as his thumb caressed my cheek. I was so confused. Wasn’t it just this morning he had worried that I had gotten the wrong idea from the necklace? Wasn’t it just this morning that he told me he just wanted to be friends? Wasn’t it? My heart beat uncomfortably in my chest as he moved his head toward mine, his eyes darting down to my lips before returning to capture my gaze. My mom cleared her throat behind me,
and we both jumped.
“See you on Monday, Jos,” Ryland smiled at me before turning and rushing out the door.
I sat still, in shock, feeling like I was robbed of something important I stared at the door as I tried to wade through an endless sea of confusion.
My mom huffed and came over to me, first aid kit in hand. “You can’t have him, you know?” Her voice was a calm whisper. She didn’t even look at me; her focus was on my cut knee.
“I know,” I answered, surprised at the sadness in my voice. “Just this morning he was saying the necklace meant nothing, and he was just my friend. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“Him?” my mother asked. “There seemed to be a lot of you in that equation.”
I sighed in response. I knew she was right. Whether he was the one to initiate something or not, I would not be the one to stop it. What had happened to us in the past few days? Couldn’t we go back to playing Conquer the Castle and destroying monsters on his PlayStation?
“What’s going on?” I threw my head into my hands.
“You love him,” she replied.
“What?”
“Well, you do; you always have—both of you. Now, it’s just grown into something a little bit more mature.”
“But I still can’t have him.” It was a statement, not a question.
“No, honey, no matter how many amazing, rippling muscles he has,” she laughed. “Your being with him is like a serving girl marrying a king; it’s not going to happen. Life is not a fairy tale.”
“What do I do?”
“Leave him alone, make new friends, and forget about him.”
My heart plummeted at her words. I didn’t want to do that. Forbidden romance or no, he was still my best friend. Not to mention that soon, he would be leaving me forever.
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 6