“Don’t worry about it.” His voice was controlled.
“Ry, it’s your senior year; you just won State. You. You scored the final points. You need to be there!”
He didn’t respond as he set me in the passenger seat of his bright yellow Lotus.
“Okay, how about I take you home and then I’ll come back? I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I can stay, Ryland,” I pleaded. “It’s just a little cut.”
“It’s not safe for you here.” He shut the door behind me and walked around the car. I turned my head toward the party. I wanted to stay, too, whether it was “safe” or not.
“What do you mean, it’s not safe? Is it because your dad showed up?”
He threw the car in reverse, ignoring my question.
“Ryland?”
“It’s just… Private school guys tend to drink a lot and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
It seemed like the lamest excuse I had ever heard. My forehead must have wrinkled in surprise, because Ryland laughed and then reached over to smooth my forehead with his thumb.
“You think I can’t fend off a bunch of drunken brats?” I was affronted. I may come off as timid, but I could defend myself. Or, at least, I hoped I could.
“I know you can’t,” he replied.
“Have some faith in me, Ry.” I don’t know why, but my pride bristled.
Ryland looked at me with obvious concern. “Drinking, drugs. We are all just spoiled boys. You shouldn’t be around that.”
“We?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t counting himself among them.
“Just trust me, ’kay? I know it kinda sucks, but I want to protect you.” His comment was odd; it still made no sense why I couldn’t stay.
“Protect me?”
“Yes, Jos. There are just some people that you shouldn’t be around.” His voice seemed distant and far away, as if he were thinking about something different. I opened my mouth to say something, but I blew off the idea of asking any more questions. He was set in his thoughts and not likely to respond.
He drove far too fast, his car weaving in and out of traffic in a mad rush to get back to my tiny apartment. We didn’t go to my house though; we went to his. He pulled through the large wrought-iron gates, speeding back to the door by the kitchen. His sporty Lotus looked ridiculous next to my mom’s rusty station wagon, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
I moved to get out of the car, but Ryland rushed around and picked me up before I could stand. The car ride had rid his skin of the glistening sweat, and he now held me close to his chest. The warmth from his skin seeped through my sweater and spread over my skin comfortably.
“I can walk, Ry,” I protested, albeit half-heartedly. He smiled down at me as he walked across the parking lot and into the kitchen that was empty except for my mother.
“What happened?” my mom asked, her eyes bugging out of her head.
“She fell on some asphalt and cut her knee. I need to get back, but wanted to make sure she was okay first,” he explained to her, his eyes never leaving mine. I heard my mom exclaim and rush out of the kitchen, presumably for a first-aid kit.
Ryland lowered me to the barstool I usually sat on. His movements were slow and controlled, his face lingering near mine for longer than was necessary. I was overwhelmed by his smell as he moved away from me, yet keeping his face inches from mine. My mind filled with images of our interlocked lips; I didn’t push them away this time.
Ryland lifted his hand to my face, resting it against my jawline as his thumb caressed my cheek. I was so confused. Wasn’t it just this morning he had worried that I had gotten the wrong idea from the necklace? Wasn’t it just this morning that he told me he just wanted to be friends? Wasn’t it? My heart beat uncomfortably in my chest as he moved his head toward mine, his eyes darting down to my lips before returning to capture my gaze. My mom cleared her throat behind me, and we both jumped.
“See you on Monday, Jos,” Ryland smiled at me before turning and rushing out the door.
I sat still, in shock, feeling like I was robbed of something important to me. I stared at the door as I tried to wade through an endless sea of confusion.
My mom huffed and came over to me, first-aid kit in hand. “You can’t have him, you know?” Her voice was a calm whisper. She didn’t even look at me; her focus was on my cut knee.
“I know,” I answered, surprised at the sadness in my voice. “Just this morning he was saying the necklace meant nothing, and he was just my friend. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“Him?” my mother asked. “There seemed to be a lot of you in that equation.”
I sighed in response. I knew she was right. Whether he was the one to initiate something or not, I would not be the one to stop it. What had happened to us in the past few days? Couldn’t we go back to playing Conquer the Castle and destroying monsters on his PlayStation?
“What’s going on?” I threw my head into my hands.
“You love him,” she replied.