Chapter Six
Lindsay
Confession #4: Besides hockey players, classic literature is one of my weaknesses.
*side note: some people assume puck bunnies, former or not, are vapid girls who only care about landing a player, but few people are that one-dimensional.
I’ve always maintained a high GPA, always worked hard. I didn’t get to be the editor of the college paper by sitting on my butt and going from party to party.
Which I suppose isn’t so much a confession, but more of clearing up misconceptions.
Since literature never let me down the way people had, I decided that it’d be okay to drop my guard—just a little—to be spontaneous and join Ryder, Dane, and Megan on their outing. Because it was Twelfth freaking Night, performed by a company who dedicated themselves to Shakespeare, and Ryder and I had a business arrangement that included fun outings.
Of course I hadn’t taken into account how small the seats in the theater would be. They could hardly contain a guy Ryder’s size, meaning his thigh was flush with mine, and his big hand was draped on our shared armrest, just begging to be grabbed.
Even back in the day when I was better at the flirting thing, I’d never been a hand holder, so I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t stop imagining what it’d feel like to slide my hand into his. This close I got a whiff of the soapy scent plus cedar and mint combo I’d noticed in the diner when he helped me with my homework. He smelled like a freshly scrubbed lumberjack, and I wanted to take a taste. Just a tiny one.
Oh, Lindsay, how’d you let yourself get into this position again? The curtain rose, and as the familiar story played out onstage, I remembered—I’d been under the influence of literature.
During my childhood, I’d often escaped into stories. Every time I had to meet a new temporary and unofficial stepdad. Each time I moved and started over as the loner kid in school. No matter how foreign and uncomfortable my physical address, I found a home in fictional worlds. The characters inside the pages didn’t judge me, the endings were almost always happy, and if they weren’t, they left my heart ripped out in a way I craved to repeat, as illogical as that was.
I leaned forward, soaking in the roles the actors played perfectly.
At one point, I went to rest my hand on the armrest, only to find Ryder’s warm skin instead of cold plastic. Our eyes met, then he turned his palm up and curled those long fingers around mine.
My heart skipped a couple of beats, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. Not with the intense scene where Viola, dressed as Cesario, is challenged to a duel unfolding in front of us.
And maybe it just felt nice to be touched after a long time of keeping my distance from pretty much everyone. I hadn’t meant to isolate myself, but I had, and it felt good to hold Ryder’s hand. To see Dane and Megan cuddling on the other side of him—the way they playfully argued and constantly kissed unleashed an inner longing I tried to pretend no longer existed.
Ryder leaned in, his hand tightening around mine, and whispered, “Okay, I have no clue what’s going on, and I’m pretty sure they’re talking gibberish. I might need you to tutor me on Shakespeare.”
During the short intermission, I explained as much as I could. Since I swung my arms around as I explained, I’d let go of his hand, and I told myself it was for the best. I didn’t think very clearly whenever we were touching.
Here and there throughout the next few scenes I whispered mini explanations to Ryder, careful to not interrupt the performance for the people around us. Which meant being close enough my lips nearly touched his ear, my body pressing against his firm shoulder.
In the middle of the last act, he reclaimed my hand, and once again, I didn’t have the strength to pull away. Instead I shut my eyes for a moment and soaked in the warmth of his touch and the fluttery sensation in my chest.
As the play came to a close, I swore his gaze moved to my lips. Holding hands was one thing, but kissing was another, one I couldn’t let happen, no matter how tempting. So I panicked, and with none of the grace I used to possess, jerked my hand away and then tried to cover like I was merely clapping.
Ryder raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
Okay, if I ever decided to try the dating thing again, I’d need a refresher course in how to be smooth. But I wasn’t going to delude myself that the guy next to me would be a good guy to practice on. That was like flirting with a rattlesnake and then being surprised he bit you.
I might not mind if Ryder bit me…
No, bad thoughts. Abort, abort.
I couldn’t exactly bolt since I’d come with him, and a taxi would set me back about forty dollars that I didn’t have. Ah, gotta love the special moments you get to decide if it was more dangerous to skip eating for a week, or to spend more time with a hockey player who you were struggling to keep only platonic feelings for.
At least standing and crossing my arms, so I wouldn’t be tempted to reach for Ryder, made me feel more in control.
Attachments are a weakness. Remain in control at all costs. Even if it makes you look like a prude crazy person.
“Did you like it?” Megan asked as we reached the main, much wider aisle leading to the exit.
“Yeah, it was amazing,” I said, and I meant it. I was going to make it a goal to attend more events like this in the future. My soul felt fed for the first time in a long time.
Ryder placed his hand on my upper back, his thumb gently pressing into the base of my neck, and the surge of awareness that shot up my spine nearly made me stumble over my own feet—downside of crossed arms, if you fell, it would definitely be on your face. “I’m just glad I had Lindsay next to me to translate what was going on.”
“I was mostly impressed by the guys wearing tights,” Dane said, and with a shake of her head, Megan kissed his cheek.
“It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and curled her tighter to him. “And good in the sack?”
Megan’s cheeks flushed pink but she laughed. “And with that, we’ve officially passed the length of time Dane can pretend to be a proper gentleman. We better get you out of here before you blurt out even more inappropriate things.”
“You like when I’m inappropriate, admit it.” Dane pushed open the door. After everything that happened with his roommate—the very hockey player who messed me up so badly—I started loathing Dane by association. To be fair, not only him, but the entire hockey team. I supposed it was time to try to let some of my bitterness go, even though it had made a good shield for a while.
Until the dude with his hand on my back wouldn’t give up on talking to me, and I still couldn’t figure out why.
The cold air hit me like a slap as we stepped outside. Wishing for my big coat instead of this flimsy jacket, I crossed my arms tighter and focused on my steps as I trailed after Megan and Dane. I didn’t dare glance back at Ryder, despite feeling his hulking presence behind me, because I was in control.
But when he quickened his steps, opened the car door for me, and said, “Milady,” as he gave a bow, my control fell right to the sidewalk and a giggle broke free. My first impression of him was that he was a silent sentinel type, and his unexpected humor always caught me off guard.
It also made it impossible to not play along. “Thank you, kind sir.” I slid inside and he scooted in after me. When I shivered, Ryder shrugged off his hoodie and extended it toward me.
Without it, all he’d have was a thin T-shirt, which was no match for Boston nights, almost spring or not. “Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure the heater will warm me up.”
“Well, until then…” He pressed the wadded navy fabric into my hands. “I don’t really get cold anyway.”
Since my teeth were approaching chattering level, I pulled the hoodie over my jacket. The lingering lumberjack scent and body heat damaged what little control I had left. It took all my willpower to resist sniffing it as I cuddled it tighter to my body. I held up an arm, laughing at the several inches of fabric hanging off.
“I look ridiculous.”
Ryder leaned closer, and when he spoke, his breath skated across my neck. “You look hot. Like you always do.”
The next shiver that racked my body wasn’t from the cold. I really needed to put on the brakes before this—whatever it was between us—grew even more out of control, and make sure lines were firmly drawn and understood by both parties. I didn’t want to do it with Dane and Megan in the car, though, so I decided to lay down some boundaries when we were alone again.
Until then, would it be so bad to snuggle up next to him and enjoy it?
But then I’d crave more and more and end up getting burned all over again.
And this is why I can’t have nice things.
Ryder slowed in front of my car after I pointed out that it was mine. I told him he didn’t need to walk me to it, but he took the chivalry thing very seriously.
“So, do we need to meet up for those last few problems or do you think you’ll be okay until your next assignment?” he asked.
I glanced at him, trying and failing not to notice his strong jawline and how the T-shirt stretched across his chest and showed off his biceps—weirdo didn’t have a single goose bump, either, and I was barely okay in both my jacket and his. “I’m afraid saying that I’m actually starting to understand this stuff will give you a bigger head than you already have.”
“Oh, I already know that I’m a kick-ass tutor. What’ll really give me a big head is if you admit to having had the tiniest bit of fun tonight.”
“Then I better not say it.” Even though I’d kept my tone light, a twinge went through my chest. I did have fun. More fun than I’d had in a long time. Which meant it was time to ruin it all before I did something stupid and let myself get caught up in a guy who’d move on once the chase was over. Thinking of other girls holding his hand, snuggling up next to him, and laughing at his jokes sent a toxic swirl through my gut, which was silly. I barely knew him.
“Look, Ryder—er, Ox.”
He shook his head. “Nope. You can’t change in the middle.”
“I can do whatever I want,” I shot back.
“You can be really difficult.”
Ugh. Why did I like this guy again?
One corner of his mouth turned up as he grabbed my hand over the sleeve of his too-long sweatshirt. Despite the layer of the fabric, a zing sang up my arm and settled deep in my chest.
I swallowed, hoping it’d help shove down that irksome longing drifting up again. “I think it’s pretty obvious that I don’t normally do this.”
“Have fun?” At my glare, he wiped the smile off his face. “Sorry. No more jokes.”
“I like the jokes.” More than I should. “You’re different than I expected. But I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”
His eyebrows drew together. “So you don’t need help with math?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’m not talking about the math part.” I exhaled a white puff of air. “I appreciate your help with my class, and heaven knows I need it if I’m going to pass…”
Am I really doing this? Saying good-bye to killer chemistry and Thor-worthy biceps?
“But I don’t date hockey players,” I forced out before my unhelpful thoughts got the best of me and I forgot to lay down much-needed boundaries. “Or do anything resembling that. Anymore. In case you thought maybe I…” I reached up and twisted one of the drawstrings around my finger. “I’m not the same girl I used to be.”
“I know that you edit the paper, that I like it when you smile and laugh, and that I like you.” His pale-blue eyes locked on to me. “It’s that simple.”
“But it’s not simple. I’m not looking for a hookup, but that’s not me trying to pressure you into a relationship, because I’m also not looking for anything serious. I have to focus on my classes and the paper, and passing this damn math class that’s trying to kill me. Then I’m moving to New York City for a summer internship that I hope will turn into a full-time job. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, and I’m not going to blow it all now.”
I didn’t just mean the school or my internship, either. I wasn’t going back to the girl I used to be. I was never jumping back on that emotional rollercoaster where I wasn’t at the controls, getting my validation from all the wrong things—that was why I had to remain strong, no matter how tempting the guy.
Ryder simply stood there for a moment like he was soaking it in. Just when I didn’t think he was going to verbally respond, he gave one sharp nod. “Got it. Honestly, playoffs are around the corner, and that’s my main focus. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. We can just see what happens.”
“But I’m telling you what happens. Nothing.”
“Nothing? No tutor student relationship? No friendship? No chance?”
I opened my mouth to tell him yes to no chance, but it got jumbled in my head because of the yeses and the nos, and the complication that I did need a tutor—more specifically him, as he was the only person who ever spoke math in a way that it almost made sense. Plus, when he put it that way, saying no to friendship would kind of make me feel like a bitch, and I was sick of feeling like that. Almost as much as I was determined to not end up broken again.
“How about this?” He tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me a step closer. “We stick to tutoring, and maybe work on the fun thing when we can. Let’s call it stress relief time. I think we both could use that, right?” he asked, and I reluctantly nodded, because I still wasn’t sure I could trust myself around him. “And I’d say something horribly cheesy like we only live once, but then I’d have to punch myself in the face, and that’d make me look crazy, and you probably don’t want to be friends with a crazy person.”
“I don’t know that I’d go calling you sane, for the record.”
He grinned as if I’d called him endearing, which I hadn’t, even if I was thinking it. “For the record, I’m not sure I trust the definition of sanity from a girl who doesn’t like ketchup.”
He wasn’t like the other hockey players I used to hang around, I’d give him that. Damn cute guy and his damn backward hat that gave him a sexy boyish look despite his size.
He walked me over to my car door. “I’ll text you later.”
“Okay,” I said, because apparently I wasn’t sane anymore, and I was fairly sure it had nothing to do with ketchup. “Oh, wait. Your sweatshirt.” I moved to pull it off, but he put his hands on my shoulders.
“Keep it for the ride home. Now that you’ve finally warmed up, I’d hate for you to get cold again.” The teasing grin he flashed me was heavy on the implication that he wasn’t only talking about my body temperature. “I’ll get it from you later.”
Later. As in he and I would be this close again.
And as he backed away, his gaze staying on mine for a couple of seconds before he spun around, the foolish part of me that had given in to this even more foolish plan, couldn’t wait.