I’m not really a kiss-and-tell kind of guy though, especially with Ryne. I don’t want to jinx anything. It was amazing but he’s still guarded. Like when I’d tried to wipe off his chest and stomach, he got this weird tense vibe and grabbed the towel from me to finish the job himself. It wasn’t that he did anything bad or negative, it just felt an awful lot like a shield falling back into place. Then not three minutes after that he gave me such a sweet kiss before we went downstairs. He’s so confusing. But today, thankfully, things seem okay. Much less awkward than the first time we messed around.
I’m trying to pay attention in psychology but only hear maybe every three words because my attention is otherwise occupied. There really is something to be said about the whole Southern boy style. Ryne looks aggressively hot right now in that red and white plaid button-down. He left it open with a white shirt underneath, and I’m pretty sure I drooled a little when he rolled the sleeves up and exposed his forearms. And when he wears those fitted camo t-shirts?
Don’t get me started.
I’ve become something of an expert, a camouflage connoisseur, if you will, at least as it relates to Ryne. I still can’t explain the purpose of the different patterns but I can tell you how good it looks wrapped around Ryne’s biceps, and how it looks even better on my bedroom floor.
Thank God this period is almost over. If I don’t get out of this classroom soon I’m going to combust. The bell rings and I gather my stuff and stand.
“Did you hear even one thing Ms. Harper talked about today?”
I turn around and glare at Ryne. “Yes,” I respond testily.
He raises his brows and nods slowly with wide eyes, clearly not believing me. I did hear some words, technically. He adjusts his backpack as Dani breezes through on her way to the door.
“Hey, Ryne,” she calls out in a low, breathy voice, I assume going for sexy but the fake smile and the predatory gleam in her eyes is what stands out the most. To me at least.
“Hey, Dani.”
His voice is always that rumbly, right? That wasn’t, like, extra flirty levels of rumbliness? She waves her fingers at him as she leaves. How nice she totally ignores me, when we’re supposedly friends of some sort, although all I ever get from her is snark or total disregard. Ryne glances over at my loud huff.
“S’matter, D?”
Wiping the smirk right off that handsome face of his sounds pretty good right about now, but I choose to take the high road and put my bag over my shoulder and ignore the question. My sarcasticafter yougesture toward the door is maybe not such a high road though.
Ryne chuckles and glances around. As he walks past he whispers in my ear. “Jealousy’s kind of a hot look on you.” I throw him a scorching glare he completely misses as he exits and then amble out the door behind him. It gives me a fantastic view of his ass and after a few steps, he slowly turns around. “Are you gonna walk behind me the whole time? Because that’s weird.”
I jut my chin out and walk faster to catch up with him. On the short walk to our lockers, my fingers itch to reach over and intertwine with Ryne’s. It’s pretty much a guarantee following through would freak him the hell out. He’s good with flirting but I get the sense actual displays of real emotion in public, even something as benign as holding hands, would send him running for the hills. Besides, we’ve not defined what this thing is between us if anything. Maybe messing around twice is the extent of it. A twinge of anxiety ripples through me. I don’t want to be some temporary and disposable plaything, and I also don’t want to be some kind of dirty secret. I shove these thoughts away and squeeze my hand into a tight fist until we get to our lockers. As I drop my calculus book into my bag I glance over at him. Our eyes lock and my anxiety settles a little.
“You look so Southern right now, Ryne. I can’t even stand it.” I shut my locker door carefully and then slowly make a half-circle around him, checking out each angle. Ryne’s glare, which would make most people at least take a step back if not wither away, tracks me over his shoulder. “Jeans and boots. Plaid shirt with a white tee underneath, tight but not too tight. And a hat.” He’d slipped a hat on just now. “Check, check, check, check.”
Ryne slams his locker closed and turns to face me with his arms crossed over his chest. It makes his biceps look massive like he could bench-press five of me with one arm. “I am not dressed ‘Southern.’ They’re regular clothes. These aren’t cowboy boots, they’re just brown lace-up boots. Kinda like yours except I didn’t pay for scuff marks, I earned mine. And I’m wearing a baseball hat.” He’s scowling but behind the irritation is a strong wave of heat, and definitely not the angry kind.
“Ohhh touchy. You do so look like a sweet, all-American Southern boy-next-door. Minus the scowl.”
“Sweet,” he deadpans.
“I know, right? Because if you aren’t actually the complete opposite of that, then I don’t have the best ass in this school. And let’s be real, I totally do.”
Ryne rolls his eyes and picks his backpack up. “I’m done with this conversation. Let’s go eat lunch.”
I blink at him. “You want to eat lunch together? Like, eat lunch with me?” I point to my chest.
Ryne smirks and shakes his head. “Nah, I want you to stand there for an hour and watch me eat.”
I pop him lightly in the shoulder, then pull out my phone and text Evie as we walk to the cafeteria. I grimace and hit send, hoping she’s not too annoyed about eating lunch at the same table as Evan. Ryne and I head over to the section that has sandwiches and other pre-made food, grab a few things, and get in line to pay. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek and keep sneaking glances over to him. He presses on my shoulder so I stop bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet.
“Why are you so jittery?”
I know it’s dumb to ask this question, but I’m going to ask it anyway. “Well, so… About last night… Or, the night before I mean. Saturday. Saturday night.” Shit, I’m rambling. I take a deep breath and try again. “Are we…” Only, I can’t get the question out. I bite my lip and try a different approach. “Why are we eating lunch?”
Ryne’s forehead wrinkles and he speaks slowly. “It’s lunchtime. That’s what people usually do at lunch. They eat lunch.”
I shake my head. “No, I mean why are we eating lunchtogether? Are we, like…” I can’t even say the worddating. It gets stuck on my tongue and refuses to be spoken aloud. Ryne blanches and there’s the answer to my unfinished question and why I couldn’t voice it in the first place. I do my best to keep my expression neutral, meanwhile, I want to crawl inside a hole and hide away. Blood whooshes loudly in my ears and I swallow repeatedly, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat.
He shifts from one foot to the other and clears his throat. “Because you’re not quite as annoying anymore, that’s why. I think I can stomach your company for an extra hour.” He elbows me in the side and smiles. It’s not a real smile, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Right.” I nod stiffly. So it’s okay for him to joke that my supposed jealousy is hot, yet this topic is essentially off-limits? A huge sigh slips out of me and Ryne tenses. When we get to the register he sets his stuff down on the counter and gestures to mine.
