“Looks great on you, kid,” one of the employees said as he walked past us. “You’re ready for deer season now!”
Embarrassment flooded his face. I doubted he’d ever been hunting in his life.
“He’s also in the market for a new fishing pole!” I called to the employee.
Ryder shoved the jacket off his shoulders, hung it back up, picked up his bags, and grabbed my hand, pulling me to the exit as I laughed, leaving the store employee looking very bewildered.
His hand was warm against mine, and it sent a spike of adrenaline through me.
“Happy now?” Ryder asked when we were away from the store, but I could tell he was holding back a laugh, too.
“Oh, very,” I told him. “Extremely, even.”
“Good. Then let’s get out of here before you try to make me play dress-up anywhere else.”
We stood there for a minute, our hands still locked. I waited for him to let go and hoped that he wouldn’t all at the same time. But, after a moment that lasted an instant too long, he did. And maybe it was my imagination, but I think he was just as disappointed to lose that contact as I was.
I traded his jacket for my cell phone and we headed outside, to his car. It wasn’t late, but it was already dark out. We walked close together, our heads ducked against a wind that had picked up in the hours since Gert had broken down. And as I climbed into the front seat of his car, shivering, I realized that the last time we’d been in a car together was in October, on another day when Gert had given me trouble and I’d been fired.
The day all of this had started, really.
We’d come a long way since that day, but not nearly as far as I’d hoped.
“It’ll warm up in a second,” Ryder said after he started the car. The engine had a purr so quiet I barely noticed it.
“So. This is the Rydermobile, eh?” I looked around at the leather interior. It was spotless. Other than the shopping bags he’d just tossed into the backseat, there was really nothing in it. No discarded water bottles or forgotten fast-food wrappers. I knew Gert was a mess, but jeez. This car was almost scary clean.
As if he’d read my mind, Ryder said, “Yeah. My mom’s always on me to keep it clean. She’s a little anal about stuff like that. Probably because my dad was such a slob.” The disdain in his voice was undeniable. “But there are worse things than a clean car, so I don’t complain.”
Though somehow, I knew he would have before the truth about his father came out. He would have thought his mother was a tyrant back then. Back before he decided she was a saint.
I wasn’t going to bring that up, though. Instead, I decided to bring up my own dysfunctional family unit.
“Hey. I’ve been meaning to tell you …” We were pulling out of the parking lot now, smoothly turning onto the highway that would lead us back into Hamilton. “I, um … I wrote to my dad.”
He glanced at me before turning back to the road. “You did?”
“Yeah. After we talked at the park that day. What you said, about letting people surprise you … Well, anyway, I wrote to him. I didn’t want to say anything unless something good out of it. I didn’t want to be embarrassed —”
“You wouldn’t need to be embarrassed,” he said. “If he didn’t write or call you back, he’s the one who should be embarrassed.”
“Well, actually, he did. Yesterday. He called me.”
“Really? That’s awesome, Sonny.”
“It was just a short call. Who knows what kind of guy he really is. You can’t tell from a call, but … but it’s the first time I’ve talked to him in years, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling naked. That was too much. Too honest. Too close.
But then Ryder’s hand was on my arm, and everything inside me relaxed a little. He gently tugged my arm free and his fingers slid down to circle my wrist, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. Then he placed his palm against mine and held my hand again, the way he had in the mall, only this time his fingers laced with mine.
“I’m glad you wrote to him,” he said, his eyes never leaving the road.
“Yeah. Me, too…. And I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for you. So, thanks.”
We were silent for a minute, and I was keenly aware of his hand, still wrapped around mine. I was giddy and nervous and eventually, I had to say something.
“Anyway … bad gifts aside, how were your holidays?”
“Fine,” he said. “Quiet. Mom hasn’t really felt like doing much celebrating. Instead, she’s been much more concerned with me spending the break filling out college applications.”
I grimaced. “Ugh. I don’t even want to think about that.”
“I know what you mean,” he said. “My mom went to Stanford and my dad is a Princeton alum, and they expect me to attend a top school as well. At my old school, I pretty much would’ve been a shoo-in wherever I wanted to go. But now that we’ve moved here, I’m a little worried about my chances.” He paused, then quickly added, “That’s not me complaining about Hamilton, by the way. At least, not intentionally.”
“No,” I said. “I know. And it makes sense. Hamilton’s not exactly a prep school.”
“It’s grown on me, though.” He cleared his throat. “So why are you stressed about college?”
“Because I don’t think I can go.”
It was the first time I’d said it out loud, and doing so made it feel so much more real and scary. I’d been ignoring the issue — or trying to — for months, but now, with only a semester left in my senior year, I was running out of places to hide.
“But you’re in AP classes,” he said. “That seems like a lot of stress for someone who isn’t college-bound.”
“I know,” I agreed. “It’s not that I don’t want to go. But, I mean, how could I afford it?”
“Loans?”
“I don’t even live with my parents, and I just lost my shitty part-time job. Who in their right mind would give me a loan?”
“So what are you going to do after graduation?”
“I have no fucking idea.”
Once again, I was scared I might have said too much. That he’d realize I was a girl from a Podunk town with no future. But, just like in the park a few weeks ago, he didn’t seem fazed by this. He didn’t even let go of my hand. In fact, he gave it a soft, reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I said. “You’re the first one I’ve admitted that to. I haven’t even told Amy. She still thinks we might be able to go to school together, and I haven’t been able to let her down yet.”
“I won’t say anything,” he said.
“Thank you.”
His hand stayed in mine as we drove through the darkness. And it was still there when we pulled into the Rushes’ driveway ten minutes later.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said.
He was still holding my hand.
“Thanks for the fun afternoon,” he said.
He was still holding my hand.
“So you had fun playing dress-up, then?”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
He was still holding my hand.
It may have been the dead of winter, but it felt like the hottest summer day in that car. Every nerve in my body was on end. Every muscle I possessed was tense. Ryder and I were in a dark car, holding hands, and he was looking at me. Really looking at me. Staring at my eyes.
At my lips.
He had some nice lips himself.
He was about to kiss me. I knew it. I started to lean toward him. My eyes started to slip shut. And then —
He pulled his hand free, turned his head, and scooted away from me so fast that I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined everything that had come before.
“So … do you know if Amy has any plans for New Year’s?”