His eyes are still locked on mine, his eyebrows knitted even more. I really hope he doesn’t think he’s the star of our conversation.
She sighs. “Okay, just be careful. You’ve never had such an intense crush on someone before, so you need to protect yourself.”
“Thanks, Jenna, but you don’t have anything to worry about.”
We hang up. Ryan still didn’t leave. Is he dreading going home or something?
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I force the words down. “Want to do more homework? Maybe algebra?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Okay.”
“I’ll grab my textbook from my room.”
I leave and am about to dart up the stairs, but stop when I hear Ryan’s name mentioned in the kitchen.
Mom and Dad are inside, cleaning up. They’re talking about Ryan moving in with his grandmother.
“It’s so sad what happened to his parents,” Mom’s in the middle of saying. “The poor boy. And Lauren didn’t really have a relationship with her son and his wife. She hardly knows her grandson. She told me the other day that she doesn’t know how to reach him.” She shakes her head. “It’s really sad.”
Dad wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Lauren’s a strong woman. She’ll get through this. And Ryan, too. He seems like a good boy.”
Curiosity pricks me. What happened to Ryan’s parents?
Mom and Dad talk about other things and I quickly grab my book from my room. When I return to the study room, I find Ryan looking through a folder with all my kiddy artwork that Mom must have stashed here.
Mortified at how sucky I was as a little kid, I grab it from him. “What are you doing?”
He nods to it. “Cute drawings.”
“Cute?” I hold up the first page. “This is supposed to be a bear, but it looks like a ball.”
He rolls his shoulders. “It’s still cute.”
I freeze. Did he call me cute?
No, silly. He called my drawing cute.
“Oh, uh, thanks, I guess.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why are they dumped in here?”
“I told my mom to throw them out, but she must have kept them. No idea why.”
“Because you drew them,” he tells me. “My mom…” His voice trails off as he averts his gaze.
“What?”
He’s on his feet like he’s been struck with super speed. “It’s getting late. I should go home.”
“What about algebra?”
He’s out the room like his butt is on fire. I follow him, where he thanks Mom and Dad, then flings the door open and rushes out.
I watch him from the window as he walks off, his body bent over like a question mark.
Later when I’m lying in bed, I can’t stop thinking about him. What is it about this guy that I can’t shake? It’s not the crush—it’s much, much more than that. Almost like something is calling me to dig deep, to get to know him. To not let him be alone.
Chapter Twelve
