“I’m fourteen, and almost two years.” His mouth turns down, and I hate that I’ve put that sad look on his face.
Ryder shoots me a look which I instantly interpret as don’t pry. I subtly nod at him, and his gaze radiates gratitude.
“So, when do I get to hear you play?” I plant an overly cheery smile on my face while I divert the course of the conversation again.
“Are you free after school?” he teases with a playful smile.
“Hmm.” I tap a finger off my chin, pretending to think about it. “Let me consider my busy schedule for a moment.” Luc chuckles, and I’m glad he’s broken free of his nostalgia. “Yep. I’m free.”
“It’s a date,” Luc quips, jumping in before Ryder can respond.
And as my eyes are drawn to Ryder’s once again, I can’t help wishing that it was.
3
Ryder
Ican’t stop thinking about Zeta, and as the class enters the small school library, I find myself gravitating to her side. She stiffens, almost imperceptibly, as I walk up behind her. A second later, her shoulders relax, but she doesn’t look around. I reach over her head, selecting the book I want to read. I watch her scanning the shelves, her eyes zooming in as her fingers skim over spines, while most of our classmates mindlessly grab any book before heading back to the classroom. “That one’s good,” I say when she pulls out the worn blue book I’ve read cover to cover at least five times. “If you don’t mind depressive subject matter.”
She glances over her shoulder at me, raising one brow, before returning to the book, reading the back cover. “I’m surprised they permit books like this,” she says, a couple minutes later, turning to face me.
I shrug. “I think it helps that the material is relatable. Reading about a guy suffering from depression and suicidal tendencies might actually help put shit into perspective.”
Her gorgeous eyes drill into mine, like she’s hearing the things I’m not saying, and it makes me hugely uncomfortable. I shift on my feet, averting my gaze, pretending to read the back of the book in my hand, even though I’ve already read that one too. The library is small, and I’ve been here too long, so there isn’t anything I haven’t already read.
I was never a reader until I came to juvie, but I’ll do just about anything to help pass the time and keep my mind occupied, and I’ve actually grown to enjoy it.
A couple of tense minutes pass before she clears her throat, and I whip my head up. “I don’t usually read books like this, but maybe I’ll give it a try.”
“What kind of books do you normally read?” I lean against the bookshelf. We’re alone in here now, and I want to take advantage of the quiet time.
Her cheeks flush a little, and now I’m even more curious. “Usually contemporary romance,” she admits after a beat.
“Hey, nothing wrong with that. I likedThe Fault in Our Stars.”
Her lips kick up at the corners. “You seriously readThe Fault in Our Stars?”
“AndEverything EverythingandWe Were Liars,” I add, freely handing over my man card. A beautiful smile graces her mouth, and a strange fucking ache stabs me in the chest. I lean in closer to her because I’m inexplicably drawn to her and I can’t stop myself. Lowering my voice, I whisper in her ear. “But you’ll have to keep my secret. I have a rep to maintain.” I wink at her without thinking, and she bursts out laughing.
“Oh my God. Did you seriously just wink at me?”
I straighten up, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck, slanting her a sheepish look. “Too lame?”
Her smile expands, and this girl could ask me to do anything in this moment, and I would be powerless to resist. “Pervy, more like.”
I fake a wince. “Ouch.”
“I bet you do that to all the girls,” she teases.
“What, all five of you?”
Her smile drops off. “I’d kinda forgotten…” She clasps the book to her chest, looking off into space.
“It’s natural. I can still remember how hard the adjustment was at the start.” It’s a tough environment to get used to in some ways; in others, not so much.
Tucking her hair behind one ear, she chews on the corner of her mouth as her brow creases. I watch a multitude of emotions wash over her face before she finds the courage to ask me. “How long have you been here?”
I wipe my suddenly clammy hands down the front of my shorts. “A while.” My answer is purposely vague. I don’t want to give anyone any reason to start connecting the dots.
