Ryder: Guess I should say I’m scared to hear the answer.
Me: Scared I’ll say yes, or scared I’ll say no?
Ryder: Both.
Me: Oh.
Ryder: Be ready tomorrow night at 7. There’s somewhere I want to take you.
Chapter Seven
I’d been ready for over an hour, switched outfits three times and fixed my hair twice. The clock read five after seven. Maybe Ryder had changed his mind.
The length of my dorm room didn’t allow for much pacing but I marched back and forth.
Fallon, who’d nursed quite the hangover most of the day and had gotten out of bed only to pee and puke, pulled the blanket over her head and groaned. “You’re like a herd of elephants. Stop stomping around.”
My footsteps hadn’t been that heavy but I was damn sure going to make them be now.
Mason hadn’t called and I refused to call him. He had some apologizing to do and maybe a little groveling. He’d probably spent his day much like Fallon had and that gave me a little satisfaction.
A knock at the door saved her from further torture.
“Hey, ready?” Ryder stood in my doorway looking delectable. Like lick-the-bowl delicious. His hair, which usually brushed over his forehead, had been combed to the side, and he wore an olive green long-sleeve shirt that set off his eyes. It fit just snugly enough to make out the lines of his chest.
“Yeah.”
“May want to bring a jacket.”
I grabbed my favorite hoodie and closed my door harder than necessary. I heard Fallon swear from inside.
“Roommate feel like shit?”
“And then some.”
“So have you talked to her…or him?”
“No. She’s been in bed all day. I assume he has too.”
He nodded but said nothing more.
He drove us to a park with a hike-and-bike trail. I pulled on my hoodie and let him lead me down the path until we came to an overlook. From where we stood the city was nothing more than blinking lights and streaming colors. Directly in front of us was a bridge. Lights beamed from the base, angled up with each arch, then bowed down, repeating the pattern.
“I love this view.” Ryder sat on a large rock with a smooth surface. He patted the spot beside him.
The cold rock sent a chill through me. I hugged my hoodie closed. “It is a pretty amazing view.”
“I like bridges.” He smiled then faced forward. “Always have. When I was a kid, my dad and I used to build these really elaborate bridges with blocks and things from around the house. We tried to find new ways to construct them each time. Trial and error. Which structure was sturdiest? How much weight could each hold? Drove Mom crazy when she’d come home and find them stretched from one side of the living room to the other. But Dad always encouraged it. Said it was good practice because he knew, one day, I’d be building ones like this.” He gestured to the lighted bridge in front of us.
“That sounds like a great memory. I never knew my dad. Mom had me at sixteen. He chose not to be around.” I shrugged.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay. I never met him so I have nothing to miss. Mom raised me alone. Well, I should say my grandma did. Mom would rather pretend she’s my older sister.” I snapped my mouth shut, unsure why I’d just shared so much personal information. “So are you and your dad still close?” I asked, redirecting the conversation back to him.
“My parents divorced when I was fifteen. Dad moved out. Mom changed. Things changed.”
“I’m sorry. Do you see your dad often?”
“Nah. He moved out of state. I visited him in the summers but nothing was ever the same. Mom remarried the summer after I graduated high school. I hate the guy she married but he makes her happy.” He shrugged. “Or maybe his money makes her happy. He’s an attorney. Dad was a construction foreman. Very different lifestyle.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“An older sister and a stepbrother.”
“Are y’all close?”
“My sister’s five years older than me, but we’re close.”
“And your stepbrother?”
He tugged the tiny metal hoop between his teeth then said, “I tolerate him.”
“Do you see him often?”
“More than I’d like.” He stretched his legs out. “So what about you?”
“Well, if you don’t count my mom, then no, no siblings. It’s weird, and I know people will think I’m crazy, but I don’t want my mom to be my friend. I want her to be my parent.” I chose not to mention her failed relationships, drinking and the countless times I helped her to bed. “I think she’s trying to relive her youth. You know, the one I stole from her.”