“You’d better get back to the project, honey,” Dad says.
I glare at him before turning on my heels and marching into the study room, ploppingdown next to Ryan. “Sorry about that. Just had to yell at my dad.”
I can’t believe I told him I’ve never had a boyfriend. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Once this project is done, we’ll go back to ignoring each other. Well, he’ll go back to ignoring me. I’ll probably still have a crush on him because I’m hopeless.
The time flies as we get the report done. We’re digging a little deeper than what’s required, but I really want to do well in this class. History is my favorite subject. Besides, getting anything less than an A on any of my classes is like poking my eyes out with a fork. It’s not like I have a boyfriend to spend my time with, anyway.
Mom peeks her head in. “Artemis, it’s time for dinner.” Her eyes move to Ryan. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”
He nods. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m okay.” He gets to his feet.
“You know we’re almost done the project, so if you stay for a little bit longer, we can finish today and be done with it,” I tell him, knowing very well that he’d rather be done with me instead of dragging this for another day.
“I made enough food to feed an entire army,” Mom says. “It’s up to you, though.”
Ryan’s gaze darts to me, his blue eyes just as mysterious as usual, but there’s something else inside. Something I, of course, can’t read. Maybe he’s uncomfortable eating with strangers?
He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets. “Okay, thanks. I’ll text my grandmother.” He whips out his phone and taps out a text. Mom slips out of the room, probably getting an extra set of dishes for him.
Ryan slides his phone into his pocket. “She’s out, anyway, and will grab some food with friends.”
He follows me into the kitchen, where Dad’s on the phone like usual, but as soon as he sees Ryan, he hangs up and gives him a look like he’s looking through him. Seriously? Can’t a guy eat dinner with us without having my dad treat him like some criminal?
“Glad to have you, Ryan,” he says.
Sure he does. If my dad had his way, he’d lock me in a tower like Rapunzel.
Jason, on Dad’s right, holds out a fist to our guest. “Hey, man.”
Hmm. Since when are those two friends?
Ryan and I sit side by side, our chairs so far apart we might as well be on different continents. Dad’s doing? Seriously?
I scoot closer to Ryan, just to piss my dad off.
Ryan subtly, though not too subtly, yanks his chair away. I focus on my food, then remember this is my favorite dish, the one I’ve loved since I was like four. And Ryan’s eating it. Why the heck do I care? He’s just my partner on this project. And so what if we shared a moment at the dance? It didn’t mean anything. Not to him, and I’m trying to forget about it, too.
Our guest hardly touches his food. I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t like it. There’s something else going on. What’s his deal? What’s up with him?
And why for the millionth time do I care?
He compliments Mom, so there’s that. Her face brightens by his praise and a part of my frustration is chipped away. He has a nice, kind side to him. I see it now and I saw it at the dance. But then he shuts off, transforms into a different person. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I don’t get it.
Dad holds most of the conversation, talking about events happening in River Spring. He doesn’t take his eyes off my partner and it seems like he wants to ask him a million questions, but he doesn’t.
Once we’re done with dinner, I lead Ryan back to the study room and we resume our homework. More like I resume it. Ryan just stares at the spot in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, and I’m not even sure he heard my question. It doesn’t look like his brain is here.
I gently shake his arm. “Ryan?”
He glances down at where my fingers are wrapped around his bicep, then looks at me. Those blue eyes…they seriously suck me in.
He shakes my hand off, then brushes his fingers through his long hair, pushing it over his face like he wants to hide behind it. “Your family is great,” he says in a low voice, staring at the wall before him.
“What?”
