“Yeah, I know.” He looked back at the mansion and the property. “I imagine they think the same about you now, the poor little rich girl. Cinderella herself.”
/> “I’m not rich. I’m dependent on them, and they’re rich. Besides, Cinderella lived happily ever after, and I’m not sure what my ending will be like.”
“You and me both,” he muttered. “I haven’t written the third act completely yet.”
“Pretty funny, the two of us feeling sorry for ourselves.”
I shifted my gaze from him and then back to him. He looked at me without speaking. I thought I could see the pain behind his beautiful eyes, the same pain I often saw in my own when I looked in the mirror. In tiny increments, as if we had been captured by a slow-motion camera, we brought our lips to each other’s and didn’t kiss so much as touch. He pulled back quickly, as if he had made a mistake.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I wanted you to do that, but with more determination.”
He smiled, and then he kissed me for real, his hands on my shoulders. When I lowered my head to his shoulder, he embraced me, and we sat there at the lake, just holding each other. I heard Alberto shouting something in Spanish to one of his grounds people, and I pulled back.
“I don’t feel like going rowing just now. Let’s go see your room,” Ryder suggested. I nodded. “Next time I come, we’ll have more time and maybe go rowing.”
“I’d like that.”
We started for the house. I kept my arms around myself, but after a few moments, I lowered them, and he took my hand. He paused as if he had forgotten something back at the lake.
“What?”
“I just realized that I told you more than I’ve told anyone else. Including my therapist,” he said.
“You don’t have to worry about my telling anyone else,” I said, thinking that was what concerned him.
“No. That’s not it.”
“What, then?”
“I’m surprised at myself,” he said. We started to walk again. “Or maybe . . .”
“What?”
“Maybe I’m surprised about you.”
“A good surprise?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
I laughed, and we entered the house and ascended the stairway. Before we reached the top, I glanced down and saw Mr. March looking up at us. He looked very upset, his face awash in displeasure. Did he think it was wrong for me to bring Ryder to my room? It was the first time I would be alone with a boy there. I was never very comfortable inviting friends here, even though Jordan encouraged it. Regardless of the time that had gone by, I still couldn’t help feeling I was bringing classmates to someone else’s home. It was truly like a guest inviting her own guests.
“Impressive,” Ryder said when we stepped into my suite. “Bigger than mine or Summer’s, that’s for sure. In fact, I think this is bigger than my parents’ master bedroom.”
“I still feel lost in it.”
He began to look at everything. “You’re into giraffes?”
“No, that was Alena’s thing.”
“Well, why is all of that still here? You said you’ve been here three years.”
“I don’t mind. In fact,” I said, “it helps me feel closer to her.”
“Why do you have to feel closer to her?”
“It’s not easy to explain. It makes me feel less lonely,” I offered.
He nodded and then paused to look at some of my calligraphy. “I know what this is,” he said. “They call it . . . ca . . .”