Rider blinked. “What?”
“Have you been...on a guilt trip, because of...because of me?” I asked, forcing the words out even though it sort of hurt to do so.
His mouth moved for a moment, forming words that weren’t spoken, and then he stiffened as if someone dropped steel down his spine. “Why are you asking that?”
“Why won’t you answer it?” I returned.
“I don’t even know what kind of question that is, Mouse. Or why you would even think that.”
My brows rose. “You...really don’t?”
A moment passed and his hand tightened around his notebook. He didn’t answer, and I drew in a deep breath. “You...you told Paige about me.”
“Jesus.” Looking sideways, he hung his head. A muscle thrummed along his jaw. “Did she say this stuff to you, Mouse? For real?”
I raised a shoulder. One he didn’t see, because he wasn’t looking at me. He was watching a bright yellow Volkswagen Bug back out of a nearby parking spot. “No,” I lied. “Not really, but it... It got me thinking about things.”
“When? I haven’t seen you two talk at all.”
“I ran into her this morning.” Which was sort of true and better-sounding than saying that she was lying in wait for me.
“Mouse...”
I waited.
“I told her some of the stuff about what went down. Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have done that. Shit. I never expected you to come back or that there’d even be a chance that she would talk to you.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that since I didn’t ever expect to see him again, either, but the sense of betrayal was still there, brimming low in my stomach. Even in that moment I realized it was irrational. Talking to Paige didn’t make Rider disloyal to me, because there was nothing to be loyal to, but that didn’t change the festering hurt.
“I didn’t tell her everything.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “She knew...I didn’t talk a lot.”
“That wasn’t me. I never told her that.” He turned harder eyes on me. “Last Tuesday she was over at Hector’s place and he was asking about you. I was talking to him, letting him know that you were quiet and not very talkative. She must’ve overheard me, because I never told her that directly.” There was a pause. “Did Paige say I did?”
Although it wasn’t true, I shook my head.
His shoulders rose with a deep breath and then he used his fingers to brush a strand of hair that had fallen loose throughout the day back behind my ear. A sweet tingle radiated across my cheek and then spread down my spine as he clasped his hand around the nape of my neck.
I didn’t know what to say as we stared at each other. Conflicted, I was sure that even if I didn’t have a problem using my voice, I’d still have no idea what to say in this situation.
Rider held my gaze for a moment and then, using his hand along the back of my neck, he guided me toward him. His other arm swept around my back as he pulled me in for a tight hug that was warm and solid.
He stepped back, his hand lingering. “Talk later?”
I smiled and nodded, but even though his touch had been nice and the hug even better, I couldn’t help but notice that Rider hadn’t answered my question.
Chapter 14
The second week of school was pretty much like the first one.
Well, kind of. I didn’t flee any classes. Score. Rider had texted me Monday night. Just a small text that said good-night and he’d called me Mouse. Unlike the last time, I managed not to be an utter dork and responded with my very own good-night. After Monday, Paige didn’t make any surprise visits at my locker. Score number two. Talking back to her Monday seemed to have done the trick. Score number three. She pretty much ignored me in speech class while busying herself with flirting with Rider. Monday through Thursday I’d eaten lunch at Keira’s table, and yesterday I’d actually managed to respond to a question asked of me. Not one but two! That was a score implosion.
It had come from Anna, who had held up her broken wrist and asked, “Have you ever broken a bone, Mallory?”
The spaghetti I’d been chasing around my plate had settled in my stomach as if each noodle was weighed down with lead. I’d gotten out a hoarse, “Yes.”
“Which one?” Keira asked, her dark eyes sharp.
The next two words were a little easier. “My nose.”
Luckily, no one asked how, probably because Jo’s boyfriend told us how his younger brother had broken his nose with a wiffle bat and ball, and I figured that took some talent. What I’d said during Thursday’s lunch wasn’t much, an accumulation of three words, but it was three words spoken in front of an entire tableful of people. As corny as it was, I was so...well, proud of myself that I told Carl and Rosa the moment I saw them late that night, after they got home from work.
They were proud, too.