I ran into Ryan between my first two classes. Literally ran into. I turned a corner in a preoccupied daze and he careened into me while catching something Chris threw from down the hall.
As he hit me, Ryan switched from trying to catch the Snickers bar, which crashed to the floor, to catching me. “Mia! Sorry. You okay?”
Chris’s laugh and “sorry” boomed toward me, but he didn’t stay to see if I was pissed.
“I’m fine.”
“Figures I run over you. But seriously, you’re okay?”
“I’m not that fragile.” I was defensive—I hated being asked how I was. Perhaps because it was all Mom said to me anymore.
“I’d better walk you to class, just to make sure,” he teased.
“Then you’d better watch out,” I answered with a flirty smile and prayer of gratitude for a normal moment. “Because if it gets me an escort, I might start staging hallway collisions before all my classes.”
“You think I’d complain about slamming into you a few times a day?” Ryan followed me down the hall. I paused at the door to my calculus class. He leaned in and pecked my startled mouth before disappearing into the crowd.
I stood there, too shocked to do more than press fingers to my tingling lips.
“Miss Moore, if you wouldn’t mind joining us in the classroom, I’d like to begin,” the teacher suggested. I hadn’t heard the bell or noticed the students shuffling past me.
“Choosing a seat might be helpful. Unless you plan on standing all period,” Mr. Bonura joked before turning on his projector and launching into a well-worn introductory lecture about his love for mathematics.
I ducked into the desk beside Gyver. He flipped open his notebook, scrawled angry words, and pushed it toward me. I shrugged and gave him a clueless look.
Gyver rewrote his message in block letters—pausing to take a syllabus from the stack being passed around—then slid his notebook across the desk. This time I could read it: What was that about? I shook my head and shrugged again.
You ok?
I nodded.
“Please let me know if I mispronounce your names. I’d hate to be calling you Smith all year if it was really Smith-thay. Joyce Reynolds? Nice to meet you, Joyce. MacGyver Russo? Is it Mac-Guy-ver? Like the show?”
I winced and glanced to my right. He lifted a few fingers in response. “Gyver.”
“I loved that show! Can you build stuff out of duct tape and tube socks and ballpoint pens?” Mr. Bonura was under the delusion he was funny. A delusion the rest of the class fed with sycophantic laughter.
“Clever,” Gyver answered calmly. Only the muscle twitching in his jaw betrayed his feelings. I wanted to reach across the aisle and squeeze his hand, but that was impossible while I could taste Ryan’s kiss and see the dark words Gyver had carved in his notebook in response. While M.A. sat in the desk in front of his, her lips pressed together in disapproval and her eyes full of sympathy.
So I made myself cough.
Mr. Bonura’s laughter choked to a halt. He turned to me with a panicked expression.
I stopped coughing and gave him a reassuring smile. He mirrored it feebly and resumed taking attendance.
Chapter 16
“Maybe we should be more than casual hookups,” Ryan suggested. He was waiting at my locker when I stopped to grab my lunch.
“What?” I dropped my book. It landed half in my locker; I kicked it the rest of the way.
“We could go out. I can see myself as your boyfriend.” He shrugged.
“What brought this on?” I leaned against the locker next to mine.
“Ally,” he replied, placing his hands on the lockers on either side of my neck.
“Ally?” I echoed. How could I keep track of how I felt “compared to normal,” when not-normal things kept happening?
“She told Chris about some deal you guys made to stay single. I couldn’t get it out of my head during math. I didn’t hear a thing Mrs. Kim said.” He grinned and leaned in, kissing close.
This would be the perfect place for one of my faux laughs. I could dismiss his suggestion and push things back to the status quo with one melodic giggle. I opened my mouth, but the sound that came out was a mutated squeak-gasp.
“So, can I be your deal breaker?” He brushed his lips across mine.
“No.” My voice was small. I ducked under his arm and fled.
“No, you don’t want to? Or no, because of Hil’s pact?” Ryan grabbed my lunch and followed me toward the cafeteria, where superficial conversation about classes, teachers, and who had gotten hot—or not—over the summer waited to shift things back toward normal.
“I-I don’t know. Let me think about it.” My frantic fingers sought my necklace.
“Ouch! You need to think about it? You’re breaking my heart.” Ryan feigned a stagger and clutched his chest. When I didn’t smile, his expression turned serious. And stormy. “Fine. Think about it and let me know what you decide.”
He handed me my lunch and walked off to join Chris, Bill, and the rest of the soccer players. I scanned the cafeteria for some sort of sign and jumped when Ally linked her arm through mine.
“Hey! I haven’t seen you all morning! How’s your day? Anything exciting happen?”
I lied. “Just typical school stuff. Boring. How about you?”