He opened his mouth and closed it a second later. Charged silence stretched between us for a few seconds. He shook his head. “Never mind. I guess we’ll get together some other time. See you later. Have fun.” His voice was tight. He stared at me for a few more seconds and then turned and walked away.
Un-freaking-real.
Ransom waited next to his bike, long legs crossed in front of him as he leaned against the seat. As I walked toward him, a slow grin slid across his face.
When I was within touching distance, he smiled again and the air between us turned electric. He made me feel desired, which was new to me. Definitely a heady sensation.
“I saw you talking to your friend, and I didn’t want to interrupt. Wanna go for a ride?”
Like I’d say no.
Ransom stepped closer, and my breath caught. He slipped the helmet over my head and leaned in to tighten the strap under my chin. His hair smelled like fresh air and freedom.
“What about my back pack?” I suddenly felt every inch the schoolgirl.
“Got it covered.” He reached out and took my bag, then crossed to the back of his bike. He hooked the straps over the top of the low silver bar behind the seat, and pulled on them a few times to make sure they’d stay.
“Ready?”
I nodded and stepped closer, then stopped. I was wearing a skirt. How the heck was I supposed to crawl on there in a skirt? He eyed me, obviously not getting my predicament.
My cheeks flushed. “I don’t know if I can ride wearing this.” I pointed down.
“Why not?”
My eyes widened. “Because it’s a skirt.”
He eyed my legs…slowly. Then he nodded with a grin. “I can see that.”
My cheeks were on fire. “How am I supposed to get on?”
“You swing your leg over. Like this.” He hopped on the bike and twisted to face me, still smiling. “Come on, Princess.”
“I’m not a princess,” I muttered.
When I continued to shift back and forth on my feet, he laughed. “I’ll turn around. I won’t even look.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Huddles of underclass females watched with blatant interest. I stepped over to the bike and placed my right hand on Ransom’s shoulder for leverage.
Even in my uniform, swinging my leg over his Triumph felt almost familiar. I fought to tamp down my satisfied grin at the knowledge that every girl on the bus landing was busy staring at us, mouths agape.
Ransom laughed and turned his head to look me. “See? I knew you could do it.”
It felt somehow taboo to be in my school uniform straddling a motorcycle behind a guy I barely knew. A hot guy. I tugged at the hem of my skirt, trying to cover some of my exposed skin. Ransom’s eyes followed my hands.
His lips curved into a half-smile, but he said nothing.
I didn’t wait for him to tell me to move closer or to hold on. I scooted up tight against his back, and wrapped my arms around his waist. Like before, my body tingled at the contact.
Seconds later, he turned the key, and the familiar rumble filled the air. The vibration of the bike ran through me. The feeling, coupled with being pressed so tight against him, made me think all kinds of wicked thoughts. Thank God he couldn’t read my mind, or I’d die of embarrassment.
“Oh! By the way!” I called out over the whine of the bike.
He turned to look at me again, one eyebrow raised.
“It’s Samantha. Well, Sam.”
He grinned, a totally heart-stopping grin. “Pleasure to meet you, Samantha.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
We took off. All thoughts, wicked or otherwise, left my head. Instead, I became aware only of sensation. Heat. Movement. The feel of his back pressed against my chest. My legs wrapped around his thighs, his taut stomach under my clasped fingers. I didn’t want the ride to end.
Thirteen
Life is always at some turning point.
—Irwin Edman
“So was that your boyfriend?”
Ransom’s question came out of nowhere. We’d stopped at an old baseball field on the edge of town to stretch and grab something to drink after riding about an hour. I paused from sliding a dollar bill into the Coke machine and looked over my shoulder at him. “Who?”
“The guy talking to you when I picked you up.” He took a long swallow of his own soda, watching me over the tilted can.
I pressed the plastic button and waited for my Diet Coke to drop out. “No, he’s just a friend.” I bent to retrieve my soda and pulled back the tab.
Ransom raised an eyebrow. “And does he know that?”
I shrugged. “Well, yeah. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. That’s all.”
It felt weird answering those kinds of questions about Jeremy. Almost like a betrayal. And a tiny voice in my head whispered, are you sure that’s all you are? I was confused. Things had never really gone anywhere with Jeremy in that way. And now I had Ransom standing in front of me, showing an interest in me, and offering an escape from my everyday life.
He nodded, still eyeing me over his Coke.
I walked over to the timeworn wooden bleachers and sat down. I set my soda next to me and wrapped my arms around myself. The sun was warm for mid-October, but I still wished for something heavier than my oxford shirt and thin cardigan. When we rode, the rushing air took no prisoners, and I still had the goose bumps to prove it.
Ransom followed and swung his leg over the bench below, straddling it to face me. He wore the same black boots and leather jacket as the last time, but his shirt looked different, one of those woven Henley jerseys. Jeremy wore them sometimes too.
It seemed odd to find similarities between the two of them; they were so completely different. Jeremy was sweet and safe. Ransom was…I wasn’t sure yet how to describe him, but I knew safe and sweet definitely weren’t two of the first adjectives that would spring to mind.
Ransom nudged the side of my sneaker with his big black boot. I nudged back.
“So how’d you know where I went to school?” I reached for my can to take a small sip.
He leaned back on the bench. “Not that hard to figure out. You told me you went to some fancy private school right outside town. Trinity’s the only one in Cloverfield.”
Oh, duh.
“I was surprised to see you.” Understatement.
He shaded his eyes from the late afternoon sun and looked at me. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t expect you to show up at my school like that.”
“Did it bother you?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I was happy to see you. I just…” I shrugged, feeling stupid. “I didn’t expect to see you,” I repeated, lamely. I tightened my arms across my chest, more from feeling awkward than to block any chill in the air.
He studied me a moment longer. “You don’t really open up around people, do you?”
I shoved my foot back and forth restlessly. “I don’t know.” I looked at him. “Well, I don’t see you sharing any deep, dark secrets about yourself either.”
He hopped up to sit next to me. “So you’re curious about my deep dark secrets?” A slow grin appeared. “What do you want to know? Ask me anything, I’m an open book.”
Where to begin?
“Okay. Is Ransom your real name?”
He ran his hand through his thick hair and laughed. Watching him made me wonder what it would feel like to do the same thing. To touch his hair, run my fingers through it.
“I tell you that you can ask me anything, and that’s what you come up with?” He teased.
I felt dumb. Girls he was used to hanging out with probably would’ve come up with something much more interesting, something edgier and seductive. Not Is that your real name? No wonder I’d never had a boyfriend.
“It’s a valid question.”
“Well, to answer your very valid question, yeah, it is.” He nodded. “Ransom Levi Morgan. I don’t know, my parents were hippies I guess.
” He ran his hand through his hair again, messing it up. He did that a lot. “So now it’s my turn.”
I tilted my head.
“We’ll take turns asking each other questions. Sound fair?”
Not really since I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to share with him, and who knew the kinds of stuff he’d ask. I wrinkled my nose. “What if you ask something I don’t want to answer?”
He shrugged. “Don’t answer. It’s not like I’m gonna ask for state secrets.”
“Okay.” My stomach twisted a little. What if he asked about my family?
He shifted a little closer. “Is that guy really just a friend?”
I gave an exasperated sigh that was all for show. “Yes. I already told you that.” But inside I did a happy dance that he bothered to check.
My turn. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen. I’ll be nineteen in two months.”
So I’d pegged his age correctly.
His eyes studied my reaction. I made sure not to give one.
“How old are you?” He asked.
“Seventeen.”
“Does it bother you that I’m a little older than you?”
“No. Why would it bother me?” I made sure to sound casual, a woman of the world. What a laugh. The only time I’d ever dated a guy was if you counted going to the eighth grade formal with Bobby Peterson, which totally didn’t count since we’d only gone together since Jessica was going with Bobby’s best friend, and she’d kind of forced the whole double-date thing.
It’d been clear Bobby had about as much interest in being there with me as I had in spending the evening with him. The few times we’d actually danced, I’d had to breathe through my mouth the whole time so I didn’t pass out from his armpit smell.
After that, any chance of a normal dating life had pretty much gone down the tubes, thanks to my family’s fall from grace.
Ransom moved even closer to me on the bench, jolting any thoughts of Bobby Peterson from my head.
“I don’t know,” he said, voice low. His deep eyes drew me in, like a black hole I might never resurface from. “I guess since we’ve been hanging out more, I was just trying to get a read on how you felt. And…” He paused, staring at me.
And…what? My mouth went dry and I tried desperately to guess what he’d say next, what I wanted him to say. I licked my lips while I watched him watch me, then immediately regretted it. Talk about the world’s most blatant come-on gesture.
His lips curled up in a seductive half smile. “And I like you. And I think we might have something here.”
He placed his hand on my knee where the skirt didn’t quite cover my bare skin. I tried to remember if I’d shaved my legs, and prayed they weren’t stubbly where he touched me. I wavered between the thrill of having his hand on my leg, and freaking out that it was there. I told myself to calm down and act like a normal person.
“Like what?” I finally croaked. I now had the Sahara in my mouth. I wanted a drink so badly, needed to wash away the desert, but didn’t want to move.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’d like to keep getting to know you better. What do you want it to be?”
What did I want? I had no idea. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say or do. Part of me wanted him to keep looking at me the way he was right then, like I was a delicious sundae and he couldn’t wait to take a bite.
But the other part of me was freaking out. I was seventeen, and I’d never even kissed a guy. Not really. I pushed away the memory of Jeremy kissing me when we were seven. It was a pretty safe bet Ransom had kissed plenty of girls. More than kissed. So I did the only logical thing I could think of in that situation. I changed the subject.
“Do you live around here?” I glanced around the baseball field like I expected his house to magically appear somewhere between second and third base. A second later, I wanted to slap myself. What if he thought I was fishing for an invitation?
“I have a place over on Warren Street.”
The west side of town. West side mainly consisted of tiny houses and a couple of warehouses converted into apartment buildings.
“You live alone? Not with your parents?” Sure, he was older, but not that much. I didn’t think he’d have his own place.
He moved his hand when he shifted a little to take another swig of his soda then shrugged. “Yeah. I left home when I was sixteen. Been on my own ever since.”
I nodded. I kinda knew how that went, not having your parents around. “Do you still see them?”
“Nope. Don’t really see the point. They have their lives, I have mine.” His voice turned bitter.
“I know how that goes. I live with my aunt, my dad’s older sister.”
“Where are your folks?” His one eyebrow rose with the dreaded question.
I stalled. “That’s a story for another time.”
He didn’t push. We talked for a while. General, getting to know you stuff. About an hour later, I rubbed my hands over my arms. The goose bumps fought to break through the thin material of my sweater. He must have noticed because he stood up and reached his hand out to help me to my feet.
“Such a gentleman,” I teased.
“Hardly.” He chuckled. “C’mon, we’ll get going.” He waved his outstretched hand toward me again.
After a second, I took it and allowed him to lead me down the bleachers. His palm felt slightly rough, different than Jeremy’s did when he’d held my hand.
Stop thinking about Jeremy! I scolded myself.
He released my hand as soon as we reached the grass, and we walked side by side in silence to his motorcycle.
“So why did you say that?” I asked.
“Say what?”
“When I said about you being such a gentleman, you said hardly.”
He paused a moment, looking at the ground before meeting my gaze. “Trust me, Samantha, I’m not your knight in shining armor. I’m not looking to be that for anyone right now.”
Then almost as if to belie his words, he spoke again.
“Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket and stood behind me, holding it open. I smiled and slipped my arms into its welcomed warmth. It smelled of leather with a hint of smoke. Weird. I’d never seen him with a cigarette.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” He grinned. “It’s big on you.”
I wagged my arms and giggled. “Just a little.”
“Hey, it’s early yet. Do you want to come see where I live? We can order a pizza. I’m starving.”
What if ordering pizza was code for having sex? I bit my lip and stopped wiggling my arms.
He caught my hesitation. “Hey, it’s cool. No big deal.”
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…”
I felt dumb admitting I was nervous to go there alone with him. Plus, Aunt Loretta would probably be wondering where I was. I remembered an appointment card I’d noticed that morning on the fridge that I’d wanted to talk to her about. “I should probably get home.”
He nodded. “Sure. Maybe another time.”
I offered a smile. “I’d like that.”
Ransom jerked his head toward the bike. “C’mon. I’ll get you home.”
Without me saying a word, Ransom somehow knew to drop me off at the end of the long dirt driveway. I hopped off the bike and tried to unhook my backpack from the silver bars. He crossed over to help, our fingers tangling together as he worked to get it loose. I cleared my throat and pulled away, letting him get it.
“Here you go.” He’d worked it free and handed the bag to me.
“Thanks.” I traded him his jacket for my bag, then slid it over my shoulder, not sure what else to say.
He hopped back on his bike, still watching me. “So how about this weekend?”
“This weekend?”
“Do you want to come over and hang out? Order that pizza?”
Part of me was intrigued by him, but part of me was still trying to figure him out. And besides, it was n
ice to have someone to talk to who didn’t know my history, and who didn’t make me feel judged. Before I could question my true motivations, I blurted out, “How about Saturday? About three?” I waited for him to scoff at getting together in the afternoon, but he didn’t.
“Sounds good. Pick you up here?”
“How about I just come over? Is that okay?”
He nodded and smiled again. “Sure thing, Princess. I got your number, I’ll text you the address.”
“Okay. I’ll see you Saturday.”
He gave me a little salute against the side of his helmet and revved the engine before taking off down the dirt lane.
Guess I had a date.
Fourteen
When spider webs unite, they can tie up a lion.
—Ethiopian Proverb
Aunt Lor’s car was gone. I again remembered the small card on the fridge, her appointment that afternoon. My gut twisted with worry.
I needed to do something normal to keep me from pacing the kitchen while I waited for her to get back. Food. I’d make dinner for her. I opened the refrigerator. It looked pretty grim—a half jug of milk, some eggs, and a few condiments. I studied the shelves like a meal might suddenly materialize. No such luck.
Sighing, I swung open the freezer door and shut it almost immediately. I didn’t quite trust my culinary abilities far enough to make anything that required thawing first. There had to be something in the cupboards I could handle.
A quick check revealed a box of Tuna Helper. That I could do. I grabbed a nearby can of tuna. After reading the directions on the back of the box, I measured out the ingredients and popped the covered dish in the microwave. Twenty-seven minutes and we’d be good to go. It could just stay covered until she got home, and we’d eat together.
I changed out of my uniform and threw on sweats and an old, baggy T-shirt. My lack of clothing choices reminded me that I needed to do some laundry. I scooped up a huge armful and stuffed it in a basket. It barely made a dent in the pile of dirty clothing left on the floor. I carried the basket out to the kitchen where an apartment sized washer/dryer combo hid behind folding doors. I threw a load in the washer, tossed in a cup of detergent, and turned it on. Then I headed back to my room to get to work on details of my plan for the tasks to be completed later in the week.
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