I’m still mad—hurt—but I also have manners. Unlike some people. I abandoned any attempts to act like Ryder doesn’t affect me far too soon, but there’s no time like the present to revitalize them. Especially while I’m trapped in a cab with the one person most important to convince: him.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say breezily. Nonchalantly. Easily. Like I break up with my boyfriend and get rides home from a guy who just rejected my advances all the damn time. At least, that’s the tone I’m striving for.
Nothing in response. We’re back to imitating elementary schoolers, clearly.
I stay put in my spot on the high road, literally biting my tongue to keep some of the things I’d like to say to him at bay. I pull the door handle, steeling myself for the horrible squeal. Except the door doesn’t budge. I keep grabbing it, using my left palm to push outward in a desperate attempt to utilize my limited arm strength to escape.
I huff and shove and fiddle.
Still stuck.
I better have some good karma coming my way to counteract the events of this evening. I exhale loudly and then inhale deeply, trying to pull in some patience with the oxygen.
Finally, I turn to Ryder. Like a true gentleman, he’s silently sitting and watching me struggle.
“The door won’t open.” I state the obvious.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have slammed it shut,” is his thoughtful response.
“Maybe you should get a newer truck,” I snap back. It’s a cheap shot, especially as we sit outside the multi-million-dollar house I call home. I’m sure this is all he could afford. I didn’t have to buy my own car.
Ryder doesn’t call me out on the insensitivity. He leans over, providing me a perfect view of the clenched muscles in his jaw. His forearm brushes mine, and goosebumps erupt on my bare skin. Thankfully, I’m pretty certain Ryder is too focused on jiggling the door handle to notice my reaction to his touch.
The scent of cedar and mint and clean laundry washes over me as he presses even closer to my side of the cab, and apparently anger is some sort of turn-on for me.
I’m far from happy with Ryder right now but having him this close has me just as aroused as when he was on top of me twenty minutes ago.
The door swings open, and the cringe-worthy creak that accompanies it is suddenly the sweetest sound it the world. A gust of night air washes away Ryder’s scent as he moves back behind the wheel.
I leap out of the cab like someone just set the cheap fabric seat on fire.
Chapter Five
I successfully avoid Ryder for the entirety of the following week. He doesn’t make any attempt to talk to me, and I certainly don’t instigate a conversation with him. The student body is far more interested in the events that transpired before I left with Ryder, but I field a few questions about him from my close friends.
Paige is the most persistent, but my insistence that all Ryder did was drop me off at home must be believable because she drops it eventually. She doesn’t mention it, or anything else, as I climb into her car to travel to Cloven Pond.
It’s the final weekend of September, but the weather feels like August is still upon us. Cloven Pond is the typical summer hang-out for those who don’t have pools. Along with some who do.
The speakers are blasting as per usual, so Paige’s only greeting is a grin as I settle in the passenger seat, waving at Kinsley and Kennedy, who are in the backseat. They both smile before resuming singing along with Katy Perry. Unfortunately, neither of them possesses her vocal talent. My ears are assaulted by a lot more than just volume.
It’s a quick trip to the pond. It’s located on the fringe of town, nestled within a short stretch of woods purchased by some nature preserves unwilling to let the land be used for development. Cars line the dirt road that leads toward the pond, the only indication of civilization amongst the mossy oaks.
Kinsley and Kennedy jump out eagerly and then start heading toward the path that leads to the pond. I linger behind with Paige, who’s pulling a bag out of her trunk. I’ve never been a fan of the pond. If I were to lie out in the grass, I’d much rather do it in my own backyard. Or alongside Paige’s pool. Neither of those have the same social element, though. You travel to the pond to be seen, not because it’s the spot most people want to be.
Paige closes her trunk, and I follow her along the path that winds toward the pond. I keep my eyes on the ground. Pitching forward in the field last weekend is fresh on my mind, and the ground here is equally untamed.
Although the decision ensures I stay upright, it also means I don’t see him coming. I glance up when we reach the end of the path, and Ryder is right there, clearly waiting to head back up the trail. A guy with blond hair and a wide smile stands at his side.
Paige is closer to him, but Ryder’s companion focuses all of his attention directly on me.
“Hey. I’m Tommy.” He holds his right hand out with a smirk.
“Hi, I’m Elle.” I give it a firm shake.
Tommy chuckles. “Huh. James was right. You are nice.”
Instead of introducing Paige like I was planning to, I swing my testy gaze to an equally annoyed Ryder. “You told your friend I’m nice?”
“Nah, that wasn’t what he said,” Tommy tells me. “But I thought you’d think I was hitting on you if I shared what he actually said.”
I’m no longer peeved; I’m intrigued. “What did you tell him?” I demand, shifting my attention back to Ryder.
No response. Guess he’s still playing the silent game.
“He’s pretending to be mad at you because he thinks you’re mad at him,” Tommy supplements.
“Tommy,” Ryder finally grits out, sounding thoroughly irritated.
“I am mad at him,” I inform Tommy.
Tommy nods once, like that makes perfect sense. “Right. Why?”
“Well, he—there was—uh. He was rude.” I pause. “You sort of had to be there,” I conclude lamely.
Ryder snorts. Tommy grins. Paige eyes us all with interest.
“It was lovely meeting you, Tommy,” I inform him before pulling Paige past the two boys.
“Guess that explains why you wouldn’t talk about him driving you home,” Paige comments as we continue along the grass toward our group of friends. The group, I realize with annoyance, that includes Liam.
“There’s nothing to explain. He drove me home and was rude about it.” I sniff.
“Just admit you like him, Elle.”
“I definitely do not,” I reply. “Not anymore, at least,” I acquiesce.
“Uh-huh, sure. You might change your mind when you see him shirtless. Holy abs.”
I resist the urge to follow her gaze. I thought he was leaving, not stripping. “I’m not that superficial, Paige.”
“I don’t think you’re superficial, just in denial.”
“Can we just go sunbathe, please?”
We reach the group and drop our bags. Everyone greets us enthusiastically, even Liam. He seems intent to act like things are fine between us, and I really couldn’t care less as long as he’s clear there’s a hard line after friendship now. I should maybe be concerned I’m not the least bit bothered he cheated on me, but my reaction to Ryder’s rejection made it clear I’m completely capable of holding a good grudge.
I spread out a towel and slip on a pair of sunglasses. Lounging on my back, I rise up on my elbows and tilt my face toward the sunshine. Tall maples shade the edge of the water, casting skinny reflections on the pond’s surface. I stare at it, forcing my eyes to take in every detail. Clear water. Dapples of sunshine filtering through the trees. The occasional reed. Tire swing dangling on the far edge.
Finally, I give up. My gaze leaps to the left. Ryder’s not looking this way, thankfully. And Paige wasn’t lying. He’s shirtless now. Whatever he does at the garage must require some serious core strength, because his torso is more defined than the football players surrounding me. I spent my summer watching the team engage in some pretty strenuous worko
uts, so I have an idea of the amount of work gaining a physique like Ryder’s would require. His back is to me, and I’ve never considered that part of a male’s anatomy particularly sexy. I am now.
I tear my eyes away before Ryder or any of his companions spot me staring. I have no idea what he told his friend Tommy, but he obviously said something that piqued his interest about me.
I dig through my bag for my phone, just for something to do. Everyone else is discussing the football game last night and experiencing it one time was enough for me. Despite my suggestion, it doesn’t appear as though Liam heeded my advice and devoted any of his newfound freedom to improving his throwing accuracy. We lost. Again. Cheering for a team is a lot more fun if you have something to cheer for.
I scroll through social media for a bit and then lose interest in that as well.
“I’m going in,” I say to no one in particular.
Everyone looks over at me in surprise. I’ve been coming to the pond since middle school, yet I’ve never entered the oversized puddle before. I prefer to swim in bodies of water with visible bottoms and filtered contents.
“Seriously?” Paige asks.
“Yup.” I stand and yank off the cotton cover-up I’m wearing. Liam’s blatantly staring at my body, and his words from the kitchen come back to me. No girl, no matter how hot she is, is worth waiting that long for. I don’t regret not sleeping with Liam. But it does make Ryder’s behavior all the more confusing. Was I too available? Why can’t he act like a normal teenage guy when it comes to sex? When it comes to anything?
I tiptoe to the edge of the water, through the higher grass that surrounds the immediate periphery. Under the shade of the maples, the water doesn’t look nearly as inviting. Especially since I can see some green spots I think are algae floating along the surface. I bite my bottom lip and then am distracted by a loud shout.
Ryder’s crew has migrated to the tire swing hanging from the largest maple.
Per-freaking-fect.
I take a tentative step forward. A bit of mud squelches between my toes, and I cringe.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
Oh, right.
Because I’m trying to distract myself from the fact that, superficial or not, I’m the teensy bit affected by the sight of Ryder James without his shirt on.
I’m also sick of doing exactly what is expected of me. Of pretending my sole desire in life is to be perfect. I’d say it’s a continuation of breaking things off with Liam, but that wouldn’t be completely honest.
It’s Ryder’s fault. Because he’s a constant reminder that doing what’s not expected is really fucking thrilling. Even when I’m annoyed with him. Maybe especially, too.
One more step forward, then another. Except, my foot keeps sinking on this step. The water’s up to my knee before I realize I’m not about to hit the bottom.
“Water’s six feet there, Elle!”
I glance across the pond to find the group around the tire swing is all looking at me. Except Ryder, who’s looking at the ground. And Danielle, who’s studying Ryder.
Tommy’s the one who called out to me and is grinning now.
“Right, yeah,” I call back. “Just testing the temperature out.”
“Come use the swing. It’s way better than jumping in the side.”
Based on Tommy’s wide, devilish grin, he’s completely aware of the fact I would very much like not to take him up on his offer.
But I don’t really have a choice now.
I broach the invisible boundary between our two groups, picking my way around the periphery of the pond until I halt a few feet away from the group that includes Ryder. He’s with five others, including Tommy. Danielle and three guys I’ve seen before but certainly never spoken to.
No introductions are made. I’m not sure if it’s a blatant attempt to make me feel more awkward, but it’s a successful one. The only person I’d spoken to before today is Ryder, and I’m not exactly looking at him as an ally right about now.
“Why don’t you go first?” Tommy pairs the suggestion with another shit-eating grin.
I give him a tight smile, but step forward. The sooner I swing into the scummy water, the sooner I can return to my friends. Which makes me wonder what they’re all thinking about this. Probably debating whether I’m having an early quarter-life crisis if I had to guess.
Tommy’s holding the tire away from the water, and I focus all my attention on it, so I don’t have to acknowledge anyone or anything else. I take the rope from him and try to figure out how to mount the thing. I never paid close attention when the guys would do this before. Plus, they’d always try to outdo each other with some sort of ridiculous backflip or elaborate leap.
My only objective is getting away from Ryder as quickly as possible, even if it requires looking like an idiot.
I try to hook my left foot in the hollow tube three times with no success. I probably should have let Tommy keep holding the rope, because I’m having to grip it to stay on shore, limiting my range of motion.
Finally, my left foot meets hard rubber, but now I’m stuck hobbling on one foot. Do I just push off from the shore and let one foot drag behind me? I’m worried my left foot is now too secure. I’ll have a narrow window to pull it out, or else I’ll end up back here right next to Ryder like an unwieldy boomerang.
“Looks like the princess doesn’t jump off many tire swings,” a female voice mutters, loud enough for me to hear.
By process of elimination, I reason it was Danielle. I feel my face flush. Her voice is mocking, but there’s a healthy dose of vitriol beneath it I’m surprised to hear. Not only because people don’t ordinarily talk to me that way, but because I’ve never so much as spoken to Danielle before. I had no idea she was harboring such strong resentment toward me.
“You know what? Why don’t one of you guys go first?” I suggest, attempting to undo what little progress I’ve made.
A stick cracks behind me, suggesting someone’s approach. I expect it to be Tommy, but the arm that reaches out to grasp the rope is one I recognize. Unfortunately, I’m only on that sort of first-sight basis with one set of forearms.
“Get your other foot on the tire, Elle.”
I huff. “You’re talking to me again?”
“I’m trying to make certain we don’t spend all afternoon watching you attempt to do this.”
“Then maybe your friend shouldn’t have invited me over. And you shouldn’t have told him whatever you did.”
Green eyes blaze. “You could have said no.”
“I’m not rude. Unlike some people.”
“Just jump off the swing, Elle.”
“I’m fucking trying to, Ryder.”
There are some whispers behind us. I’m not sure whether they’re about our bickering or the profanity.
But I’m totally distracted from his friends’ gossiping when Ryder uses his free arm to scoop me up—directly under my ass, I might add—and lift me up so both of my feet are level with the bottom of the tire.
“Elle,” he mutters, and I realize I’m not moving, just memorizing the way it feels to have his palm wrapped possessively around my thigh.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I tell him. I wrap both hands around the rope, just above where Ryder’s still holding it. The balls of both of my feet are perched on the very edge of the rubber. Ryder drops his arm, unfortunately.
“Make sure to let go of the rope,” Ryder instructs.
“I’m not an idiot, you know.”
“You did just try to enter a pond like it was a pool.”
I sigh. “You know you’re the one who needs to let go right now.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ryder yanks the rope so I move closer to shore. He’s next to me now, so I catch the flash of a grin. “You know, pushing you into a body of water has always been a fantasy of mine.”
I’m wholly unprepared for his sense of humor to make an appearance. But I don’t let it show. “Too bad you had ‘someplace to be’ las
t weekend, or I would have shown you mine.”
Heat simmers in his eyes like a green flame before he lets the rope go.
It takes me approximately three seconds to swing out to the center of the pond. Two seconds in, I decide to do something I’ll possibly regret. Instead of simply letting go and dropping in the water, I do a backflip off the edge of the tire and into the water, cringing when my feet sink into the muddy bottom of the pond.
I fight back to the surface, emerging just in time to watch Tommy swing into the water beside me. With a smug stab of satisfaction, I note his dismount is nowhere near as impressive as mine was. It probably didn’t take him five minutes to get on the tire, though. I swim toward the edge of the pond, unwilling to wait and see what Tommy has to say about my quibbling with Ryder. Or who is entering the pond next.
Climbing out of the pond is not a graceful process. I’d equate it to exiting a pool without a ladder or a shallow end. Wet grass squelches between my toes as I head back toward familiarity.
“Nice flip, Elle,” Kinsley compliments as I near.
“Thanks,” I reply, flashing her a quick smile as I avoid all the other looks being cast my way.
No one else says anything—either complimentary or accusing—as I flop down on my towel when I reach my original spot. A rectangle of grass I really wish I’d just remained on.
Paige's gaze is burning into the side of my skull. I finally turn to meet her gaze. She raises both eyebrows.
“Yeah, fine. I like him,” I admit.
“No shit. You just went off the tire swing.”
“It wasn’t that bad. I tried it once. Now I’m good.”
“Unless Ryder lifts you up again.” Paige gives me a sly glance.
I feel heat flood my cheeks. “Maybe,” I acquiesce.
There’s no “maybe” about it, unfortunately. Despite my best attempts—and his—I care a whole lot about what Ryder thinks of me. He draws out a desire to be bolder. Freer. Jumping off a tire swing is one of the tamer things I’ve done in his presence. There’s no one else I can say that about. No one else who would have put me in that same situation.
Come Break My Heart Again Page 7