There was an odd hitch in my throat, and my stomach cartwheeled for a whole different reason than it had before. Warmth zinged through my veins as he lifted his lashes and those soft gold-brown eyes collided with mine.
Rider looked... Goodness, he looked good.
Good in the way I didn’t know a teenage boy could look. Like they did on TV, when played by twenty-five-year-olds.
His brownish-black hair was messy, as if he’d woken up, washed it and then let it dry whichever way it fell. Bright yellow light glanced off his high cheekbones. The full lips were slightly tipped up in one corner, the dimple in his right cheek absent. Stretched across his broad shoulders, the emblem on his blue shirt was so faded I couldn’t make out what it was.
As he straightened, he lifted a hand and brushed the hair off his forehead. The new cut above his brow was faded, barely noticeable. That made me happy. I walked up to him, trying to keep a goofy smile off my lips.
“Hey, Mouse,” he said, and the way he said Mouse was so different from how Paige hurled the nickname. It was soft and deep and infinite. “What’s the plan?”
It hit me then, as I shuffled out of the way of the sea of students, that he was outside my class waiting because he knew what was coming next for me. He wanted to know the plan. Was I going or bailing, and deep down, I knew he would be right beside me no matter what I picked.
My insides turned gooey, and I told myself that anyone would feel this way, but a wisp of guilt curled around the warmth. My insides were not allowed to turn gooey for Rider. He was a goo-free zone.
A second thing occurred to me. Paige had said that Rider had always protected me and that I was somehow influencing him to do the same again. She believed I was after Rider. I hadn’t knowingly done anything, but she was right in a way. Rider had taken up for me when I left the class, followed me out, and he was here now, willing to do whatever I needed him to do.
He was still protecting me.
And that made me pathetic.
“You in or out?” he asked, glancing up as someone lightly bumped my shoulder. His eyes narrowed.
I cleared my throat. The urge to run was there, because it would be the easiest thing to do, but it was short-term. I knew that, and if I didn’t go back to class, I would never forgive myself. Squaring my shoulders, I nodded. “I’m in.”
His expression was impassive with the exception of the corner of his lips tipping up more. The dimple made an appearance, blessing the hallway. “Let’s do this, then.”
“Wait.” I grabbed his arm.
Astonishment scuttled over his face. He wasn’t used to me grabbing him. I opened my mouth, prepared to ask him about what he had told Paige. I wanted to know what he told her. I wanted to know if pity was what drove his actions. I started to speak, but people crowded us. We weren’t alone, and this seemed like a private conversation. One that really couldn’t be carried out in the minute or so between classes.
“Mouse?”
I forced a smile as I dropped his arm. He lifted his hand, rubbing it along his jaw.
Blue smudges on his fingers this time.
“Did you... Did you paint more?” I asked, touching on safe ground.
He shifted his ratty notebook to his other hand. “Kind of.”
I waited for more of a detailed response as we headed down the staircase. Rider walked beside me, taking up most of the space. Students had to squeeze past him, turning sideways, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Or care.
He didn’t elaborate, so as I ran my hand down the cool metal railing, I got my tongue working. “What does...kind of mean?”
We rounded the landing. “I work in the evenings. Sometimes.”
Surprise flickered through my system. “You work?”
“After school, a couple of times a
week.” He glanced at me and then let out a low laugh. “You look like I just told you I’m thinking about joining a crab-fishing boat.”
I blinked as we went down the final steps. “I just didn’t...know. Where do you work?”
“Not too far from where I’m staying,” he explained.