Rider lifted one shoulder. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s unbelievable.” I thought again about my soap carvings and almost laughed. “I can’t...do anything like this.”
He tilted his head to the side. “I could show you.”
I choked on a laugh. I was pretty sure that would be like handing a crayon to a toddler in the middle of a tantrum and telling them to color within the lines.
Facing me, he glanced up at the fat, rain-heavy clouds. “I mean, if you want me to. There’re other places where you can do it without getting in trouble.”
I looked back at the wall and tried to picture creating something so awe-inspiring. I would end up with a spray-painted stick figure. “I wouldn’t want to mess anything up.”
A lopsided grin appeared. “You wouldn’t. Promise.”
Unsure of that fact, I didn’t respond as my gaze trekked back to the painted child. I wondered if Rider had brought Paige here before. Immediately, I knew that was a stupid thought. Of course he had. They probably did this—the tagging—together.
“Is...is Paige into this?” I asked, and my cheeks warmed.
“This kind of stuff? Tagging?” Rider’s grin evened out as he shook his head. “In the beginning, maybe? I mean, she used to come and watch me, but I honestly don’t think it was ever her thing.”
I looked back at the wall. “Would she be okay with...you showing me how to do this?”
“Yeah.” His response was immediate. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
I really had no idea how to answer that.
“She knows you’re important to me, Mouse.” He stepped closer. “And like I told you, she’s a tough girl. Doesn’t warm up to people easy, but she will with you. Eventually.” He paused. “She’s not going to have a problem with me spending time with you.”
Slowly, I looked over at him. I thought that I should explain that his girlfriend just might have a problem with that, and I couldn’t blame her if she did, but I had to take what he said at face value. He knew her far better than I did, and Paige hadn’t been mean yesterday in class. She was just stating her place in things. I could respect that. And Rider and I could be friends—we’d always been friends. Maybe she would warm up to me.
At least this part of my life, my life with this new version of Rider, could work.
I turned back to the painted wall. There was no way I’d be good at this, but what could it hurt? A mini cyclone formed in my belly. “Okay.”
The dimple appeared, and the cyclone in my stomach grew. Our gazes collided, and I hastily looked away, suddenly feeling hot. I wanted to tug at the collar of my shirt, but that seemed too awkward to seriously consider.
“Do you want to head back?” he asked, and when I looked up, he was closer and I hadn’t even heard him move. “Mouse?”
Class was over at this point, and I should really head home, but I...I didn’t want to leave. Not yet. There was something peaceful about this place despite the distant hum of traffic and bleating horns. I shook my head.
He stared at me a moment and then walked over to the old stone picnic table and sat. I joined him after a minute. Neither of us spoke for a long moment, and it was like falling down a rabbit hole. How many times had we sat side by side in the past?
My tongue came unglued from the roof of my mouth. “Do you think it’s weird?”
“What?” he asked, propping his elbows on the table behind him. He leaned back, his lashes lowered.
“This. Being here like...like no time has passed.” Warmth crept into my cheeks. “It’s just weird.”
He was quiet again. “Yeah, it’s weird, but in a good way. Right?”
“Right,” I murmured.
Rider knocked his knee off mine. “I’m glad we’re here, though, to experience this weirdness.”
The warmth increased as the corners of my lips twitched into a small grin. “Me, too.” He held my gaze for a heartbeat and then flipped his attention to the graffiti-covered wall. I drew in a shallow breath. This was the perfect chance to ask him about how the last four years had been. There were so many questions. “How long...have you been with Hector’s grandmother?”
His brows furrowed. “About three years.”
“And the...group home before then?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” he replied, stretching out his legs. “Not many kids.” He laughed softly, under his breath. “I was actually surprised when I was sent to live with Mrs. Luna. I was almost fifteen. Like what’s the point?”
I got what he was saying, but he was lucky, because not many people wanted to take on a teenager who’d been in the system their entire life. It was surprising that he found one that did. “You’re happy with...Mrs. Luna?”
“Yeah...” He squinted as he moved his fingers, opening and closing them. A raindrop hit the table. “She’s good people.”