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The Problem with Forever, Page 22

Jennifer L. Armentrout


  it wasn’t.

  You got this.

  My shoulders tensed as I drew in a breath that got stuck. This wasn’t hard. I could do this. I had to do this. The paper was rattling softly, like dry bones.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  The words blurred again, as if I was experiencing yet another weird lapse in vision. My heart started pounding in my chest so fast that my knees felt weak. My hands trembled.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  “The United States of America...has three branches of government. The first being...the...” I stopped, realizing I’d gone too far and skipped a line. Panicked, I looked up and saw Mr. Santos waiting.

  He nodded at me, expression patient.

  I started again. “The U-United States of America has three branches of government—the legislative, executive and judicial,” I forced out and then forced myself to keep going. “The l-legislative branch oversees...”

  It sucked.

  God, the speech sucked so badly.

  Like there were thousands of professional speakers turning over in their graves, it sucked that bad, but I did it. I finished my speech a few seconds before Mr. Santos would’ve called time. I finished the speech, my first ever speech.

  I did it.

  And I didn’t throw up.

  Keira would be happy to hear that.

  Mr. Santos smiled as he rose from his seat. “You did good, Mallory. You got a little hung up in the beginning, but you started over and then moved on. The speech sounds very well researched.”

  Hands still shaking, I turned in my paper to him. “Thank...you.”

  “You’ll get your grade along with everyone else,” he explained, and I nodded. “Congratulations. You’ve completed your first speech.”

  I walked to my bag, shoving my notebook into it. My first speech. I’d done it. Granted, it had only been in front of Mr. Santos, but I’d still done it.

  Rider was waiting outside the class. He was looking down at his phone, but he put it in his pocket and angled his body toward mine. “So?”

  My lips tipped up at the corners. “I did it.”

  His answering smile brightened the entire hallway. “I knew you could.”

  “You did.”

  Our gazes connected and the look on his face was soft. The swelling motion was back, and this time I let it lift me to the ceiling.

  I’d done something I never thought I could do.

  Chapter 19

  “Want to grab something real quick to eat?” Rider offered as we walked down the hall, away from speech. “You have time.”

  My stomach was still in knots, but since the speech was done, I knew I could eat a slice of pizza. I nodded.

  “Awesome.”

  We headed toward the cafeteria and the closer we got, the more I realized that the hum of conversation and laughter wasn’t as harsh to my ears as it had been the first week. Today there was something welcoming about the noise and the scent of unidentifiable food. My steps felt lighter. I was—

  “Mr. Stark,” said a deep voice. “Why am I not surprised to see you in the hallway when I am ninety-nine percent confident you’re supposed to be in class right now?”

  I stopped and turned. Rider did the same. Principal Washington stood by an open door with his arms across his chest. Light glinted off his smooth, bald head.

  Uh-oh.

  “You’re not a hundred percent sure?” Rider replied, much to my surprise. “Don’t you think you should always be a hundred percent sure?”

  Principal Washington smiled. “Clever, Mr. Stark. It’s a shame you don’t take that quick wit and apply it to your studies, but that would be expecting too much, wouldn’t it?”

  A muscle thrummed along Rider’s jaw. “I guess so.”

  The forced smile faded. “Get to your class, Mr. Stark.”

  For a moment I didn’t think Rider was going to leave. He eyed the principal, a challenging smirk on his lips. Then, after a stuttered heartbeat, he stepped back and to the side. “I’ll see you later, Mouse.”

  “Hopefully not in the hall when you’re supposed to be in class,” Principal Washington interjected.

  Rider laughed under his breath as he pivoted around. “I don’t know, man. That might be expecting too much.”

  The principal’s large chest rose with a deep, patience-seeking breath and then he looked at me. He squinted. “That’s not the kind of boy you want to be spending your time with,” he advised, and I flinched at the wild assumption. I didn’t even think he knew who I was, even if Carl and Rosa had spoken to him. “The path that boy’s heading down is not one you want to be along for the ride on. You’d better be on the way to wherever you’re supposed to be.”

  Before I could respond, Principal Washington was off, stalking down the hall and toward the offices. The happy buzz from completing my speech faded as I replayed the principal’s words and tone, the way he’d treated Rider, in my head.

  No expectation.

  No respect.

  * * *

  Keira gave her speech in class without any projectile body fluid, so the good feels returned and the run-in at lunch felt like forever ago. I was even happy for Paige when she strutted up to the front of the class and delivered her speech on the first five presidents of the United States.

  She was back to herself. Sort of. Gone were the baggy sweats and messy ponytail. She was back in skintight blue jeans and sweater, and her hair was sleek and straight. She’d been ignoring me the last couple of days, so I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t look in my direction when she took her seat.

  There hadn’t been a lot of brain space lately to think about where Paige and Rider were, but I did notice that there wasn’t any touching or kissing. They spoke. They smiled at one another. Well, Paige smiled at him and I couldn’t see his response, but that was the extent of it.

  When the bell rang, I heard Paige ask Rider to call her and then she left the class as Keira walked up to my desk. “How did you do at lunch? No hurling?”

  “Good...I guess. No hurling.” I paused as my right hand squeezed tight against my thigh. “You did awesome.”

  “I know!” she exclaimed. “God, I am so glad to be done with it.”

  Rider stood and reached over to my desk, picking up my notebook and paper as he rose a brow. “One speech down. Only a billion more to go.”

  Well, realizing that sucked.

  Keira laughed. “Yeah, but neither of us threw up!” She clapped her hands together. “Yay, us!”

  A smile broke out across my face.

  “There were a couple of rough seconds where I thought it was going to happen,” she said, watching Rider as he swooped down and picked up my bag. “But I managed not to do it.”

  “We all appreciated that,” Rider teased. He put my notebook in my bag.

  “I bet,” she replied. “So what about your speech? I’m sure you’re just going to be awesome.”

  “Something like that,” he said.

  Standing, I reached for my bag. Our fingers brushed, the brief touch a strange jolt to my system, and I jerked my hand back. My gaze flew up to his and our eyes met. Pink infused his cheeks as he looked away, focusing on what appeared to be the monumental task of finding the perfect spot in my bag for my notebook to occupy. The skipping in my pulse turned into a hopping in my chest.

  “So, yeah...” Keira murmured as she glanced at Rider. Grinning, she started to back away. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  Rider gave a curt nod as he zipped up my bag.

  I wiggled my fingers in her direction.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  Nodding again, I followed him toward the front of the classroom, but before we could walk out, Mr. Santos appeared.

  “Rider,” he said, taking off his glasses. “You got a moment?”

  He glanced at me and back to the teacher. “Yeah.”

  Mr. Santos smiled in my direction as he placed his hand on Rider’s shoulder and led him to the center
of the chalkboard. Even though I was by the door and there was a lot going on out in the hallway, I could still hear them.

  “You ready for your speech?” Mr. Santos asked.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  A look of doubt crossed the teacher’s face. “Are you sure about that?”

  One side of Rider’s lips curled up, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve given you a lot of passes in class. I know you get bored and you’d rather be using your hands, creating something, but I need you to take this class seriously.”

  Rider didn’t respond, and I shifted where I stood, uncomfortable.

  “You know I’m here if you need to talk,” Mr. Santos said, and the smirk slipped off Rider’s face. He stiffened. “Don’t throw your talent away. Okay?”

  Rider didn’t reply and then he was dismissed. My gaze was glued to him. A muscle along his jaw worked as he walked over to me. Why would Rider need to talk to Santos? What did Mr. Santos know about Rider that I didn’t?

  I knew the answer to that question without asking.

  Everything.

  We walked out into the crowded hall. “Is...is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Yes.” He glanced down at me, features slightly relaxed. “Look at you.”

  “Look at me?”

  Rider reached down and folded his hand around mine, causing a jolt to travel up my arm. He started walking, still holding my hand. “You had this huge smile on your face the whole class. I want to see that smile again.”

  “I’m...just happy I did it even though I sucked.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t suck.”

  I begged to differ on that. Mr. Santos probably would, too, but he was too nice and patient to do so. My gaze dropped to our joined hands. This...this was new, and deep down, in my heart of hearts, I liked the feel and weight of his hand, but it was wrong. Some friends might hold hands, but I knew enough to know that wasn’t how people would perceive it.

  Avoiding his gaze, I slipped my hand free and folded my arms across my chest.

  “You need to stop at your locker?” he asked after a moment.

  Thinking about it, I shook my head. We walked out into the overcast afternoon skies.

  Only when we stopped by my car did I allow myself to look at him.

  His expression was unreadable as he leaned against the back passenger door. “There was something I wanted to ask you earlier. I want to show you the garage—Razorback.” Lifting a hand, he knocked the hair back from his forehead. “I thought you might want to see what I’ve been working on. What are you doing Saturday?”

  My heart started pounding like I was being chased by a chain-wielding serial killer. “Um...” I trailed off a second before screaming nothing from the top of my lungs, but that wasn’t true. Ainsley wanted to get together Saturday and even if she didn’t, there was the whole Paige thing.

  Rider arched a brow.

  I could feel my cheeks heat. Who knew what he was thinking while I was standing there staring at him. “I’m supposed to meet Ainsley for lunch and then...we’re hanging out.”

  He was silent for a moment and then shoved his hands into his pockets. “Cool.” His gaze flipped up and over me. I turned slightly, spying Hector’s car coming down the center aisle. “I’d like to meet her.”

  Wait.

  What?

  He wanted to meet Ainsley?

  Rider bit down on his lower lip. “So, you know, I’m sort of inviting myself along.”

  He really wanted to meet my best friend?

  His head tilted to the side. “And if you think that’s not cool, this is about to get real awkward.”

  I blinked, realizing I needed to say something. Anything. Hector’s car stopped a few feet back from mine. Should we do this? I searched my head for rules I wasn’t really familiar with. This really wouldn’t be the first time we were together outside school. We grabbed food together and we’d gone to the library. He’d been to my house, but I wasn’t counting that. Friends did hang out together.

  But I didn’t look at Rider, think about him, like someone who was just a friend. Though he didn’t know that. Yet I did know that.

  I was so confused.

  “Will it...be cool for us to hang out?” I asked.

  His brows lowered. “Yeah, it would be cool.”

  Unsure if he got what I was asking, I inhaled deeply. I wanted him to meet Ainsley. She was super important to me. I made my decision. “I...I would like that.”

  Rider’s reaction was immediate. He smiled and the dimple appeared. My breath caught. I’d actually invited Rider along to meet Ainsley. I wanted that. Really wanted that, but I had no idea what to do with that.

  Regardless, excitement hummed through me. Hanging out with Rider and Ainsley was normal. Something a million people probably did every day, because they were actually living life, but it was a first for me—a huge first. It was my best friend and it was the guy...the guy who’d been my best friend and who now, despite everything, felt like something deeper, richer and more intricate, hanging out together.

  It felt important.

  “Perfect,” he said, pushing off the side of my car. “Glad it’s not going to get really awkward now.”

  “Yo,” Hector called out as he extended an arm out the window. “You ready, man? I’ve got to head out.”

  “Yeah. Be right there.” Rider handed my bag over as he lowered his head toward mine. I stilled as the air rushed out of my lungs. His lips brushed over the curve of my cheek, sending a rush of tight shivers down my spine. “I’ll text you later and we’ll talk about Saturday.”

  I thought I said okay. I wasn’t entirely sure. I might’ve just stood there and stared at him. But Rider smiled that smile that reached deep into my chest and wrapped around my heart. I watched him hop into Hector’s car, waved at Hector as he peeled out of the lot, and then I climbed into my Honda and sat behind the wheel.

  I didn’t turn the car on.

  What was I thinking? Feeling?

  It didn’t matter.

  Staring out across the rapidly emptying parking lot, I realized something extremely important. Almost earth-shattering in its simplicity. Caught up in excitement for Saturday, I’d forgotten all about Mr. Henry and Miss Becky, about Carl and Rosa calling the school, about speech and me not talking. I forgot about everything.

  Because it wasn’t that important.

  Something else was.

  Living life was.

  * * *

  It was an ice-cream kind of night, or so Rosa told me when she came into my bedroom later that evening, carrying two bowls of the stuff.

  Chocolate.

  With tons of chocolate syrup.

  Celebration for my successful speech was on.

  Carl had to work late so it was just the two of us. Seeing her in sweatpants and a cotton shirt seemed so odd, because I almost always saw her in green surgical scrubs.