BETH
Ryan switches gears when the pavement ends and the Jeep’s wheels hit gravel. The wind whips my hair into my face and neck, stinging me like the tiny tentacles of a jellyfish. He turns on the headlights when the sun sets lower in the west, causing the woods surrounding us to fall into shadows.
Besides the forced happy hellos we exchanged under my aunt’s watchful eye, Ryan and I have said nothing to each other since he picked me up. The things he uttered to me two weeks ago still hurt—I was nothing more than a dare.
The offers of friendship, the smiles, the nice words—all games. Deep down I always knew it, but part of me hoped for more. I allowed hope. Stupid Beth making another stupid mistake. Story of my life.
“You know, it’s rude to text while you’re out with someone else.” Ryan rests one hand on top of the steering wheel and leans cockily toward the door. “Especially when I saved you.”
I ignore Ryan and stare at my cell. Owing him, I agreed to spend one hour with him at the party. I never agreed to conversation.
The constant dipping and bobbing in his Jeep makes reading Isaiah’s texts nearly impossible. It’s the first time I’ve had the courage to open them. Every message says the same thing: I’m sorry.
So am I. I’m sorry I trusted him. I’m sorry he betrayed me. I’m sorry I thought I could read his texts without my heart throbbing as if a swarm of bees attacked it. I want the heaviness to go away. I want the hurt to go away. How can I forgive him for telling Ryan my secret? How can I forgive him for forcing me to leave my mom?
And even worse, how can I talk to him now that I know he loves me and I know, beyond words, that I don’t feel the same way? My throat tightens. Isaiah’s my safe. He always has been. He’s that place where I fall when the world tumbles into chaos. There were times I thought maybe we could be more, but then…I’d freeze up entirely. Isaiah and I were meant to be friends and now I’m losing my only friend.
The phone vibrates in my hands. It’s as if he senses I’m finally on the other side. Call me. Text me. Please.
I toss the cell onto the floorboard of Ryan’s Jeep. Texting Isaiah back will only increase the pain—for both of us.
Ryan concentrates on the road, looking deep in thought. I wish I had his life. No pain. No problems. Only lightness and freedom.
“You okay?” Ryan catches me staring. I remind myself that the sincerity melting in his brown eyes isn’t real. Jocks are good at pretending. His hair sticks out behind the baseball cap he wears backward. He shifts gears again and the muscles in his arms ripple with the motion. It’s kind of sexy. Not kind of—Ryan is sexy.
“Why are we on a dirt road? Did we officially reach the end of civilization?”
“It’s a gravel road,” says Ryan. “This is the way to my house.”
His house. Please. That bastard Luke from my old school “showed” me his house too. “I’m not fucking you.”
“And you talk so pretty. You must have had all the guys dangling from your fingertips in Louisville.” He flexes his fingers and regrips the steering wheel before speaking matter-of-factly. “This is the fastest way to the party.”
Ryan hates me and I don’t blame him. I hate me. What I hate more in this moment is that part of me likes Ryan. He stood up for me like the prince does for the princess in the fairy tales Scott used to read to me as a child. I’m not a princess, but Ryan is a knight. He just belongs to someone else.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine.” I hate how sharp the words come out. Fabulous. I yelled at him. Now I can feel like crap for that too.
Ryan breezes past what I assume is his house, a large one-story with a massive garage next to it, and switches gears again when we hit the grass. The Jeep jolts forward, tossing me in the seat like I’m on a roller coaster. I grab hold of the passenger grip on the ceiling and Ryan laughs. A crazy smile brightens his face and once again, I find myself drawn in.
No longer leaning away from me, Ryan sits straight, one hand on the steering wheel, another shifting gears as we hurtle down a hill to a creek. The Jeep accelerates as if it were a snowball on the verge of an avalanche. I can see the possibilities. The crashing. The water. The jostling. The dirt. My heart pumps faster in my chest and for the first time in weeks I feel alive.
The engine roars and he presses harder on the gas. The Jeep hits the rocks. Ryan and I both whoop and yell as water sprays the truck and smashes onto the windshield, making us blind. He pushes the Jeep forward, faster, past the creek, over the rocks. Daring to continue even when I have no idea what’s on the other side.
The windshield wipers spring to life, clearing our view, and Ryan jerks the wheel to the right to miss a sprawling tree. He enters a clearing and kills the engine. I hear laughter and suck in a breath when I realize it’s mine…and his. Together. It sounds nice. Kind of like music.
Ryan has that smile again. The genuine one that makes my stomach flip. He had it at Taco Bell. He had it when Scott introduced us. He does it with such ease and for a second I believe his smile is for me.
“You’re smiling,” he says.
I absently touch my face as if I’m surprised by the news.
“You should do that more. It’s pretty.” He pauses. “You’re pretty.”
My heart does this strange fluttering. Like it’s stopping and starting at the same time. Heat creeps up my neck and flushes my face. What the hell? I’m blushing again?
“I’m sorry.” Ryan keeps the enduring smile, but it turns a little repentant and his eyes cast down in a shy way.
“No, it was fun.” The most fun I’ve had in weeks. The most fun I’ve had sober in…my mind ticks back and I come up empty. Life sucks sober.
“Yeah.” His eyes become distant and the grin stays on his face, but I can tell it’s a little forced. He blinks and the smile becomes natural again. “Yeah. The creek. I should have told you that was coming. Or slowed down.”
Why I can’t hold eye contact with him for longer than a second, I don’t know. The uncharacteristic bashfulness causes me to feel inadequate and a little…girly? I lace my hands together and focus on them. “Really. It’s okay. I had fun.”
“Beth?” He hesitates. “Can we start over?”
I eye him—head to toe. No one’s offered me a do-over before. I guess no one thought I was worth it. A strange tugging inside me lifts my lips and causes a floating sensation for about three seconds. Well aware that everything in life is short-lived, I feel the smile drop and the heaviness return. Still, I accept the offer. “Sure.”
The sound of a guy shouting catches our attention. Farther into the clearing is a circle of trucks with headlights on and a bonfire in the middle. Kids from school are everywhere. What am I doing here?
“You ready?” he asks.
No, but I screwed everything up when I tried to run away. “I guess.”
While I’m not a party virgin, a party in the woods with a bonfire is a first for me. A group dances in front of a large rusty Jeep. Others hang near the bonfire or on the tailgates of trucks. The whole setup has a Lord of the Flies quality. At least the movie version of the book.
Ryan and I wade through the knee-deep grass and it crunches beneath my wannabe Chuck Taylors. Some of the longer blades swat at me, slashing at the bare skin exposed by the rips in my jeans. I hate the country.
The closer we get to the party, the slower I walk and Ryan matches my pace. With each step, he bridges the distance between us and a couple of times his fingers skim against mine. Butterflies flutter through my blood and the stupid little girl part of me wants him to touch me.
The other part would slug him if he did.
“Parties make you uncomfortable?” he asks.
“When they make me feel like Daniel stepping into the lion’s den.”
I try to suck in my smile when I hear the surprise in his voice. “You know the story?”
Thanks to my short stint in VBS with Lacy, I can recite the books of the Bible, New and Old Testament, and a few other random verses. “Even the devil knows who God is.”
“You’re not the devil, Beth.”
“Are you sure?”
That sweet smile graces his lips. “No.”
I laugh. It’s a good laugh. The type that digs deep down into my toes and tickles my insides. What feels even better is the sound of him laughing right along with me.
“Come on. I promise they won’t eat you. Half the girls here claim they’re vegetarians and I can take the guys.” He does the one thing I hoped for and dreaded: his hand tangles with mine and he tugs gently for me to follow.
I like the touch of his hand. It’s warm. Strong. And I let the part of me that loved ribbons live for a few seconds and entwine my fingers with his. If I learned one thing from Vacation Bible School, it was that resurrection of the dead is possible.
Ryan walks toward a truck where Chris and Logan sit on the tailgate. They laugh loudly, then stop when they see me. Tucked between Chris’s legs, Lacy offers me a friendly smile.
“Did the mud call to you again, Ryan?” asks Lacy.
Ryan chuckles. “Yeah.”
Mud? How did Lacy know… I glance down at my outfit. Mud—everywhere. Just great.
“Hell,” says Chris. “You actually convinced her to show. Did you give him your phone number too?”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re holding his damn hand.”
Right. I am. Stupid me. The bet. First the phone number. Then the date. The Jeep ride disoriented me into momentary forgetfulness. Hurt pricks at my heart and I shove the little girl with ribbons into the dark recesses of my mind. Some things should never be reborn. I break free from his hand. So much for Ryan’s offer of starting over.
“Don’t let him snow you,” Chris says while running a finger down Lacy’s arm. “Ryan’s a charmer.”
Noah touches Echo like that. It’s obvious from school that Chris is in love with Lacy. Some guys touch girls they love. Others touch girls they use. The worst touch girls they hurt. I stare at Chris and consider telling him to go fuck himself. Yet I can’t find the anger. I’m the moron that walked into this situation.
“Don’t let Chris get to you,” Ryan retorts. “He’s pissed because crap comes out of both ends.”
Chris gives a hearty laugh. Ryan slings an arm around my shoulder and leads me from the group. Um—no. I may have fallen for the hand-holding before, but I’m not falling for anything else. “Get your arm off of me before I rip it off and beat the shit out of you with it.”
We’re heading for the bonfire. I feel small underneath his massive arm, like a girl, and such vulnerability makes me uncomfortable. Instead of letting go, Ryan effortlessly tucks me under his shoulder. “When you kiss guys, do they drop dead from the venom that spews out of your mouth?”
“I wish, because I would have kissed you days ago. I’m not kidding, get the hell off.”
“No.”
No? “Do you have a death wish?”
Ryan strides past the bonfire, and panic sweeps through me when he guides me into the thick crowd of people dancing. “You owe me one hour. Remember?”
Rap pounds so loudly from a truck that the ground beneath us vibrates. Around us people dance. Shimmy. Shake. Laugh. They move in hypnotic rhythms. Skin against skin. Body against body.
My stomach heaves and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to vomit. “Screw you. I’m not doing this.”
Ryan bolts in front of me, stopping my retreat. “How about a deal? One dance and your debt is paid.”
“I don’t dance.” True—I don’t. Truer? I’ve never danced with a guy.
He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You don’t dance?”
“No.”
The firelight flickers against Ryan’s tan, giving his face a beautiful bronze glow. Gold shines in his hair. He’s gorgeous. Honestly he is, and he wants me to dance. Could this day get any worse?
Ryan steps closer and flashes an all-knowing smile that makes him adorable and me weak. I hate him and I hate myself for wanting him to touch me again.
The music changes from superfast to a bit slower. Its strong beat mimics the frantic pounding in my chest. Ryan rests a hand on my hip and his heat seeps into my skin and creeps into my bloodstream. He lowers his lips to my ear and his breath tickles the nape of my neck. “Dance with me, Beth.”
“No.” I’m definitely learning impaired. I whispered the reply. I might as well have screamed yes. This is a mistake, Beth. A huge, glaring mistake. Just run!
Ryan places his other hand on the small of my back and molds his strong body to mine. I inhale and welcome the scent of warm earth and summer rain. Ryan smells…delicious.
“This works better if you touch me,” he says.
I loosely lay my hands on his shoulders. Sort of like what I saw Echo do once when Noah swept her off the bed to dance. My skin tingles. Touching Ryan, oh God, it’s too much…too intimate. “I’m only doing this because I owe you.”
“That’s okay.” On rhythm, Ryan moves his hips from side to side. His hand slides an inch lower and the gentle pressure he exerts on my thigh stirs my body to sway in time with his. Our feet never leave the ground, but, I swear, I’m flying.
Ryan whispers to me again, “I’m dancing with you because I love the look on your face.”
Figures. “Love watching me make a fool out of myself?”
“No. I love seeing the girl Scott and Lacy say you can be.” He stares at me as if he’s seeing beyond my skin and my heart pounds out of my chest so violently that he has to feel it. My nerve endings become raw. Somehow, Ryan’s seeing me and I’m exposed—as if I’m standing naked in front of a large open window. My hands slip from his neck, but as I try to step back, he clutches my waist, rejecting my escape.
“Ryan! I wondered when you’d get here.” The sound of an all-too-familiar voice creates the same electric shock as when I stuck my finger into a wall socket when I was four. My body seizes, then moves in warp drive away from Ryan.
Gwen wears a red sundress with printed white flowers. Her lip curls at my wannabe Chuck Taylors, worn jeans, and black T-shirt. She links her arm with Ryan’s. “You wouldn’t mind if I steal Ryan for a moment, would you? There are some things we need to discuss.”
They look nice together. Well matched. Like a couple should. “He’s yours.”