The Problem with Forever

“I’m serious.” I ducked my chin as I picked up the sketch of me and closed my notebook. Scooting to the edge of the bed, I stood and walked over to my desk. “I want to go to the party.”

“It’s not really a party,” he said. “It’s just going to be a couple of people hanging out at a house. Not a big deal if we miss it. There will be more.”

Opening a drawer in my desk, I rooted around until I found the roll of tape. “We’re going.”

There was a pause. “Yes, ma’am.”

I cracked a smile as I taped the sketch to the wall above my desk. “Wait here?”

His eyes were on the sketch. “Not going anywhere.”

Walking out, I grabbed my makeup bag and took it to the hallway bathroom before I lost my nerve and ended up changing my mind. I pulled out the bobby pin and then ran a brush through my hair. I quickly retouched the makeup—lipstick, blush and added mascara. I figured the sweater dress and thin tights were good enough.

Rider was waiting for me like he said, and when I walked in, his gaze did a slow slide that left a wake of shivers. “I really love it when your hair is down.”

My heart did a little skip at the word love and I told my heart to stop being stupid. “Thank you.”

He rose and within three steps he was in front of me, lifting up a heavy strand of hair. “Such a gorgeous color now. Don’t get me wrong, the orange was cute...”

I rolled my eyes. “The orange was not cute.”

He ignored that. “I have no idea what I’d have to mix, color-wise, to get this shade, but I’m going to figure it out.” Then he lowered his head and kissed the freckle below my eye.

I started to lean into him, but Carl’s voice echoed through the house, and I figured that wouldn’t be the best idea. “Let’s do this.”

On the way out, I grabbed my phone and a small purse. We headed downstairs to the kitchen, where I swiped my keys off the counter.

“You guys heading out?”

We turned at the sound of Carl’s voice. “Yes.”

Carl crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Rider. “And where are you going?”

I responded before Rider could. “We’re going to a friend’s house.”

“I thought you two were studying.” Suspicion clouded Carl’s tone.

“We were and we’ve finished.” Which wasn’t a lie.

He didn’t look like he believed us, but before he could say anything else, Rosa entered the living room. “Neither of you have a jacket?”

“We aren’t going to be outside for very long.” I glanced at Rider. He was just wearing a thermal under his shirt. At least my sweater dress was thick.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Thank you again for the sandwich, Mrs. Rivas.”

Rider had thanked Rosa so many times for the ham and cheese sandwich she’d made us when he first came over that I was seriously starting to believe that he was really afraid of her.

Carl eyed Rider stonily. “Her curfew is eight.”

“What?” My eyes widened as my grip tightened on the keys. “My curfew has always been eleven.”

Rosa stepped forward, placing a hand on Carl’s shoulder. “Make sure she is home before eleven.”

“I’ll have her back by eight,” said Rider, and my mouth dropped open. Before I could say anything, he added, “I promise.”

Carl’s lips were pressed in a thin line, and I waited for him to thank Rider or something, but all he did was nod curtly. Anger pricked at my skin. Rosa was trying, kind of, but Carl wasn’t. At all.

I reached down, wrapping my hand around Rider’s. A muscle throbbed along Carl’s temple, and I squeezed Rider’s hand. I didn’t say anything until we were outside, in the bright sunlight.