“Oh my God, Ryan, I am so sorry about yesterday,” I blurted out. “I was afraid you were going to hit David, and I don’t know, get suspended or something, and I . . . freaked out. Did I hurt you?”
Sighing, Ryan came in and sat on the edge of my bed. “I really wish I could say no, because it kind of hurts my masculinity to admit my tiny girlfriend kicked my ass.”
“I didn’t kick it so much as throw it,” I said, wanting him to laugh. Needing him to laugh.
And he did. Kind of. It was more a huff of breath than his normal laugh, but I would take it. “Where did you learn how to do that anyway?” he asked. His eyes searched my face, and I twisted my fingers in the bedspread.
“Self-defense class. I guess I took it a little more seriously than I thought.” Lifting my head, I tentatively moved my fingers closer to his. “Is that why you weren’t at school today? Because I hurt you?”
Ryan shook his head. “I was a little sore, yeah, but I . . . I needed some time to think.” Hesitantly, he reached out and took my hands between his. His hands were warm and big, dwarfing mine. “Harper, believe it or not, the kung fu isn’t really what I wanted to talk about. I mean, it’s part of it, but . . .” He paused, looking down at our joined hands. “I just . . . things are weird with us.”
“No, they’re not,” I said immediately, and when he quirked an eyebrow, I sighed and rolled my shoulders. “Okay, yes, the past few days have been a little intense, with Homecoming and all, and Cotillion coming up, and the, uh, flipping you bit.”
Ryan shook his head, a tiny crease appearing between his brows. “No, it’s been going on a lot longer than the past few days.”
Okay, now I was confused. Sure, my superpowers had been throwing things off since Friday, but before that, everything with me and Ryan had been fine. Better than fine. We were happy.
“I’m not blaming you,” Ryan was saying. “You had a really rough year with—with your sister and everything, and I know getting college stuff together is freaking you out—”
“No, it’s not,” I said, and the corners of Ryan’s mouth turned down.
“And that’s another thing. Lately, it’s like I can’t say anything without you contradicting it.”
“I don’t—oh. Sorry.”
Ryan ran a hand over his hair, ruffling it. “I love you,” he said at last. “You know that. But it’s . . . it’s like we’re speaking two different languages most of the time. Harper.” He tugged on my hand. “If there’s something going on with you, you can tell me, okay?”
For a second, I really thought about telling him. I wasn’t sure how I was going to spin it, exactly, but there had to be something I could say. Some way of letting him know it definitely wasn’t him, it was me. And then a funny expression crossed his face. “Is it David Stark?”
Maybe it was because the question was so unexpected, or maybe because it was David Stark—in a way—but whatever the reason, my reaction was . . . not great.
I made this kind of spluttering sound that was kind of like a laugh, but mostly involved me nearly spitting all over Ryan. “W-what? What would David Stark have to do with anything?”
“You guys seemed pretty . . . intense yesterday,” Ryan said, dropping my hand.
“Yeah, we were intensely arguing over him writing that stupid article,” I said even as I had a sudden vision of me and David, laughing in his car. Hugging. God, we had hugged.
Now Ryan was frowning. “But you’re always arguing with him. Or talking about him. Or competing with him. And sometimes I wonder how you can be so obsessed with someone you supposedly hate.”
“I’m not obsessed,” I corrected before I could stop myself, and his mouth tightened. “Forget it,” I said quickly, rising up on my knees to scoot closer to him. “I promise you, David Stark is . . . nothing to me.” And he wasn’t. I mean, he may have been some future-telling guy I was supposed to protect, possibly unto death, but other than that . . .
Ryan seemed less than convinced, so I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. He hesitated for a second, but then, finally, he kissed me back. As his hand slid up to tangle in my hair, I moved forward, still on my knees. Ryan’s other arm tightened around my waist, and I sank into the kiss, trying for a few seconds to turn my mind off.
It was nice. I know you’re probably supposed to use words like “hot” or “amazing” to describe your boyfriend kissing you, and we’ve had plenty of make-outs I could describe that way, but “nice” was good, too. Comforting. Stable.
When we pulled apart, Ryan had that happy, glazed look that told me all thoughts of David Stark and my ninja moves and basically anything else had been obliterated.
Smiling, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine. “So we’re good?” he said, and I realized we hadn’t really talked about anything. He’d brought up stuff, I’d denied it, and then we’d made out for a little while. It was becoming something of a pattern.
But that probably means we’re good at conflict resolution, I thought.
“We’re better than good,” I told him, smiling back.
Still rubbing one of my hands, Ryan glanced down. “So what were you reading so intently it made you use a four-letter word?”
Before I could stop him, he picked up They Saw the Future! Both of his eyebrows went up as he studied the Oracle. “Whoa.”
I snatched the book back, half shoving it under my bed. “Doing some research. Essay on ancient Greece for a college application thingie.”
I’d been so happy to see Ryan that for a few minutes, all thoughts of Paladins and Oracles and whatever the heck was going on with me and David Stark had fled my brain. But looking at the picture reminded me that while things may have been better in Boyfriend Land, the rest of my life was only getting twistier.
Chapter 13
THANKS to a little more making out, Ryan seemed willing to let the subject drop, and I think he’d totally forgotten about it by the time we heard the garage door opening. “Your mom,” he said, moving back.
“Yeah, we better get downstairs.” Mom loved Ryan and I think she already thought of him as her son-in-law, but that still didn’t mean she’d be okay with the two of us alone in my bedroom.
We made it to the living room before she came in, both of us striking nonchalant poses, me on the couch, him in my dad’s chair. “Har—oh, you have company,” Mom said as she came in the living room. She glanced back and forth between us and decided no rules were being violated. “Excellent!” she said. “Four hands to help me with groceries.”
Once we’d helped Mom unload the car, Ryan decided to head home. After one last kiss, he drove away, and I went back into the kitchen. As I did, I spotted the space where David’s car had been yesterday. He’d gotten it this morning, apparently—I’d left the gate unlocked for him, but I hadn’t seen him. Still, it reminded me that while things with my boyfriend might be okay for the time being, things with the Starks definitely were not.
But I had an idea. While Mom put groceries away, I rummaged around in the pantry, grabbing flour, some spices, and a can of crushed pineapple. Dumping those on the counter, I fished out a mixing bowl and some measuring cups and went to work.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked, setting the paper bags of food on the counter.