The Problem with Forever

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  over at me. His hair brushed his brows as he grinned. “What time are you expected home tonight?”

  “Eight,” I said since they both were at the hospital this evening.

  “Perfect,” he said, backing out. He stroked his fingers along the steering wheel as we left the parking lot. “I’ve been saving up money for a car. I like this one. Probably out of my price range, though.”

  Stretching out my legs, I looked over at him and for a moment I was struck silly by the fact that we were here and this was happening. Then I pulled it together. Barely. “What...are you looking at getting?”

  One shoulder rose as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Not sure. I’m thinking about a truck. Not a big one, but Drew has been keeping an eye out for me, and the older ones definitely fall into my budget.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “I like that.”

  “What? Trucks?”

  “Yes, but I like that you’re planning ahead,” I explained, watching him.

  One brow rose and then he chuckled. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

  I smiled softly. It was hard to explain, but Rider didn’t see much for himself. Literally had little to no expectations, but he was planning ahead. Buying a truck might not be a big deal, but it was something.

  My gaze didn’t stray from him often as he drove and we talked. Well, Rider talked mostly, and I listened. It was weird. Things were the way they’d been last week, but different all the same. Whenever he glanced in my direction, the intensity to his gaze, no matter how brief, was infinitely more. It was heavy and warm.

  “Keira invited me...to a party this Saturday,” I told him, remembering the conversation from yesterday. With everything that had happened in speech class with Paige, I’d temporarily forgotten.

  “Peter’s?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. You’ve gone?”

  He shook his head. “You thinking about going?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. I’d brought it up to Ainsley last night via IM, and she’d thought going would be an amazing idea. Then invited herself along. “Would you...go?”

  “If you wanted me to.” He flashed me a quick grin. “His parties are pretty big. A lot of people show up.”

  My stomach dipped. “I think...it might be fun.”

  “Probably will be.” There was a pause. “How are Carl and Rosa going to deal with that?”

  I almost laughed at the idea. “I...don’t know. I don’t think they’d be totally against it. I mean, they want me...to be more social.”

  “Uh-huh” was all he said, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. But then he started speaking again. “Speaking of social, have you thought about Homecoming?”

  “I...” My tongue twisted into a pretzel. Several seconds passed before I could get it to catch up to my brain. “Not until I saw the banner last week. I don’t...know. Part of me wants to, but...”

  But it was a lot and so much had changed. To some it was just a dance, but it was a dance with people crowded together and loud music. I frowned. A party would also probably be like that, but with slightly fewer people. My palms were suddenly damp and I wiped them across my thighs.

  There was a part of me that was excited by the prospect of finding a pretty dress and seeing Rider dressed up, because that alone would be wow, but the school was new, the relationship was new and going to a party was one thing. A dance?

  “I just...don’t know. I’ve never been to a dance. Some...homeschooling programs have dances, but I never went to them.”

  He was patient while I forced the words out. “Then how about this? Why don’t we skip Homecoming and plan for prom?”

  Prom?

  Holy crap, that was like forever from now, and that meant Rider was planning for forever from now with me, no matter what doubts Paige had planted in my head. There was no stopping the smile.

  “I...I can do that,” I said.

  He reached over, found my hand and squeezed it. “Good.”

  Smiling like a maniac, I glanced out the window and blinked. I recognized the street from this weekend, the narrow one with the garage, but when he drove past it, my heart started thumping in my chest. “Are you...taking me to your house?”

  His sidelong look was sly. “Well, it’s not really a surprise anymore.”

  The pounding in my chest moved to my throat.

  “Though, it probably isn’t much of a surprise. I mean, it’s just my... It’s just a house. Nothing exciting,” he added, flipping his gaze ahead as he came to a stoplight. The car idled. “No one’s home. Hector’s working and Mrs. Luna won’t get in until around seven or so. I have no idea where Jayden is, but he’s probably out, doing something that’s going to make me want to punch him later.”

  Anticipation swirled. I was going to get to see his house, maybe even his bedroom, and besides that being incredibly intimate to me, I was going to finally be able to confirm that he did have a nice home. Deep down, I knew things were good with Hector and Jayden’s grandmother, but knowing wasn’t the same thing as seeing that when he left school, when he wasn’t in front of me, he was somewhere safe.

  These were the kinds of things a lot of people never had to worry about, but I did—we did—because we know that having walls and a roof over your head didn’t equal safety.

  Sometimes it was the most dangerous place of them all.

  Parking on the block he lived on was reserved for residents so he found a space pretty quickly, and didn’t even have to parallel park. When we climbed out into the cool afternoon air, I tugged the sleeves of my light sweater down. Soon, I’d have to break out a jacket.

  Rider grabbed my book bag from the backseat, slinging it over his shoulder. “We’re down here.”

  He reached down and wrapped his hand around mine, and my heart did a little dance. We walked down the street as the brisk wind played with my hair, tossing strands across my face. The street was nice, lined with bare trees. It didn’t smell bad, like it had outside the group home and Mr. Henry’s house. It was just normal. Not a mixture of urine and sewage and exhaust.

  He led me up the cracked cement steps of an older, narrow brownstone. The red brick and green shutters were typical of the style, as was the stacked bay window. There was an autumn-themed wreath, burnt orange and red with little plastic pumpkins, on the door.

  Hope swelled as he pulled out his keys. This was good, really good. Wreaths didn’t equate to safety, but all the windows were intact and someone, I was guessing Mrs. Luna, cared enough to decorate for the season.

  Rider let go of my hand and opened the door, holding it for me so I could step through. Inhaling, I immediately caught the scent of apples and cinnamon. My gaze was darting everywhere as he closed the door behind us.

  The brick row home was very much like Carl and Rosa’s, except older and smaller. Across from the front door were stairs that led to a second floor. The two bottom steps had an array of sneakers tucked against the wall. An old table was by the door, covered with unopened mail.

  Rider stepped around me. “Want something to drink?”

  I nodded and followed him through a rounded archway and into a living room. A coffee table was covered with magazines. A decent-sized TV sat on a stand, across from a comfy couch and recliner. Framed photos of Jayden and Hector covered every square inch of the wall behind the couch. There were several photos of an older man who reminded me so much of Hector. I guessed that was Mr. Luna.

  The next room was a small dining area and then we walked into a surprisingly large kitchen that looked like it still had the same appliances it had when originally built. Cabinets were stained dark and the countertop a smooth tan surface.

  “I think there’s some Coke in here. That cool?” Rider asked, glancing over his shoulder. “I think the milk might be expired.”

  “Coke is fine.” I watched him open the fridge, and hand to God, I could’ve cried. The fridge was full of food—Tupperware with leftovers, eggs, cases of soda, packs of lunchmeat and even a veget
able or two.

  Looks could be deceiving. I was smart enough to realize that. Sometimes, clean floors and a stocked fridge were nothing more than a facade.

  But the hopefulness was growing.

  Rider grabbed two sodas out of the fridge. “Is going upstairs to my bedroom okay?” His cheeks flushed pink. “If not, the attic has been converted into a chill spot.”

  It was sweet that he asked and even sweeter that he blushed. I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat also. “Bedroom...is fine.”

  His lips twitched as he handed me the Coke.

  Upstairs was just as homey and warm as the downstairs. We walked past two closed doors and a bathroom. Rider’s room was next to the last, and when he opened the door, he flipped on the light.

  Only a small window cast light in the room—a surprisingly neat room. Like crazy neat. My eyes were wide as I looked around. A narrow twin bed was made or never slept in. A clutter-free, small desk butted up to a dresser.

  Walking around me, Rider placed his soda on the nightstand and my bag by the foot of the bed as I turned in a slow circle. Nothing was on the walls. No posters or pictures. In the corner of the room was a bookshelf. I roamed over to it, fingering the tab of my soda. I knelt down and started checking out the spines. There was a complete set of Harry Potter, all in hardcover, and a bunch of thrillers by authors I recognized.

  “Yours?”

  Rider sat on the bed. “Most of them. The Harry Potter books were here when I came.” The half grin appeared. “But I read them.”

  Smiling, I turned back to the books. There were a few Stephen Kings, ones I hadn’t read. Actually, I hadn’t read any of his books. I wasn’t a big horror fan. One of the titles, a thin book, snagged my attention. It was smaller, square-shaped. My hand jerked as recognition dawned.

  Oh my God.

  I pulled it out and stood, placing the Coke on the desk as I faced the bed.

  He saw what I held and he started to smile, but it seemed to get stuck. His face blurred a little, and I blinked rapidly.

  “Aw, shit,” he said gruffly, starting to stand. “You still cry when you see that book.”

  I laughed, a wet and choked laugh. “No. Not really.” I stared down at the cover. It was an old copy. Oh, God, it looked like the exact one from before. The yellow cover was dulled, and the illustration of a small boy clutching a stuffed rabbit was faded. The book smelled like a book—that old, musty scent that clung to faded pages. “Is this...?”

  He took a deep breath. “It is.”

  Slowly, I lifted my gaze and our eyes met.

  “It was your favorite book,” he said after a moment. “I have no idea why since it always made you cry.”

  My lower lip started to tremble. “It was sad.”

  “The rabbit becomes real in the end.” He laughed, but it was hoarse and thick. “I don’t know how many times I explained that to you.”

  “But he was old and shabby and...” I swallowed the lump in my throat as I walked over to the bed and sat down beside him. I stared at the old cover. “All the rabbit wanted...was to be real and loved.” I said the last word as a whisper and then lifted my gaze to his again.

  I’d empathized with that poor rabbit. I’d been too young to realize that, but I’d wanted to be loved and real, because I didn’t feel like either of those two things growing up in that house.

  “I took it with me when I was removed from that house and I’ve... Yeah, I’ve kept it with me.”

  My breath hitched. “That’s... I don’t know what to say.”

  “I never stopped thinking about you,” he said in a low voice. “Not one day, Mallory. That book... I don’t know, it was something that tied me to you.”

  Oh my gosh. My chest squeezed, and a tremor coursed down my arm again. The book slipped from my fingers, landing on the carpet. He reached for it at the same time I did, and we both froze, bent at the waist, our faces inches apart. He got to the book before I did. We straightened, our gazes locked.

  He’d kept a book I was positive he hated reading because it reminded him of me. My heart practically exploded in my chest, into a puddle of goo. Spray-painting the heart between our names had been cheesy-sweet, but this? This meant the world to me.

  “After you were gone,” he said, swallowing hard as he placed the book aside, “it was all I had of you.”

  My lips parted, and I didn’t even stop to think. I lurched at Rider, throwing my upper body toward him. It was awkward and possibly the most unattractive thing ever, but I didn’t care. His arms swept around me the same second I clasped mine around his neck. I didn’t say anything. There was no need. I buried my head in the space between his neck and shoulder, and he held me as I held him.

  We’d been separated.

  But we had never really been apart.

  I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but eventually the embrace changed. We ended up lying down on that neatly made bed. Rider was on his back and I was on my side, my head resting on his shoulder. There was a space between our bodies, but lying like this had my pulse jumping all over the place.

  Rider was right there. I could reach out and touch him. Anywhere. And I wanted to touch him. But I kept my hands folded in the space between us, and he kept one hand on my waist and the other planted on his stomach.

  The old copy of The Velveteen Rabbit rested between us.

  We talked and listened to each other. I told him how I confided in Ainsley Sunday night.

  “That had to be hard to do.” His thumb moved along my waist. “I’m proud of you.”

  Grinning, I wiggled closer as I talked to him about Jayden and how I believed that he was finally hearing Rider and Hector. Inch by inch, I moved closer to him, which left just the book between us. His hands stayed where they were even though I wanted him to touch me.

  And I didn’t want him to touch me.

  That made no sense, but I had no idea what to do with...all of that. I wanted to learn, really wanted to, but I had no idea what I was doing. Lifting my chin, I watched his lips move as he spoke quietly about the time he’d gotten in trouble for tagging the school. He’d done it on a dare.

  I was listening, but I was also fascinated by how his lips curled around each word. I remembered how they felt against mine. At night, when I lay in bed, it was all I thought about. Those memories made me feel hot.

  I wanted to feel that again.

  Was it too soon to kiss again? He hadn’t kissed me that way since Saturday. Granted, he’d only seen me in school in the last two days and he’d kissed my cheek a handful of times, but I wanted more.

  He’d stopped talking and his eyes were closed.

  Taking a deep breath, I shifted up, putting my weight on my elbow. His eyes fluttered open as my hair slid over my shoulders, curtaining my face.

  His gaze searched my face as he lifted his hand off his stomach. His fingers hesitated at my cheek and then he tucked the hair back behind my ear.

  “Mouse?” he whispered.

  There was a good chance I was going to start wheezing, and how unattractive would that be? “I want...” I wetted my lips, and I saw his gaze drop. “I want to...”

  A long moment stretched between us. “Do you want to kiss me?” he asked, thick lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. “Is that what you want?”

  Now I wanted to bury my face into a pit of nothing. I could die, but I pushed down the wave of embarrassment. Rider had to know I had no experience in this even though I bet he had tons.

  “Yes,” I gasped out in barely a whisper.

  “You want that? You can have it. Whenever.” His voice was deep, rougher. “You don’t even have to ask. Ever.”

  Good to know. “Okay.”

  I didn’t move. “I don’t know what...to do.”

  His eyes met mine and then he moved his hand, curling his fingers around the nape of my neck. “I’ll show you.”

  My heart jumped and I nodded.

  With the slightest pressure, he guided me down. Our lips touched, an
d sparks ignited in my veins. He slowly moved his lips against mine, and I mimicked the act.

  After a few moments I realized that if I tilted my head to the side, the pressure increased, and I liked that, really liked it. Rider seemed to like that, too, because his fingers tightened against my skin. Shifting my upper body closer to his, I reached out to steady myself, placing my hand on his chest.