My breath catches on his question and my muscles tense. I don’t want to get into it, I don’t want to rehash anything right now. But I also don’t want him thinking I despise him. “I’ve never despised you.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘I can’t stand you. I hate everything that comes out of your mouth. I hate you.’”
It bothers me that he remembers that word for word. He either has an exceptionally good memory, or the words affected him enough that they stuck with him. “I said a lot of shit I didn’t ultimately mean, Dacen.”
He scrutinizes me for a moment. “Okay. So to clarify, you’re saying you didn’t actually hate me over the summer and you don’t hate me now.”
“Yup.”
“Hmm.” He shakes his top foot lightly. “But what you’re really saying is you like me, Ryne, am I right?”
My own overly-full stomach twists into a little knot. “I mean, I guess I’m glad you were born, okay?”
“Admit that you like-like me.”
I turn my head to him and raise an eyebrow. “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to say those words.” But relentless is Dacen’s middle name, or at least a part of his internal mantra because he just can’t let shit go.
“Come on, a few simple words is all it takes. ‘Yes, I like-like you.’ Or I’ll also accept a lengthier response such as, ‘Yes, Dacen. You are the hottest dude I’ve ever seen and obviously much more advanced in the way of emotional intelligence and self-awareness than I am. After all, it’s taken me all this time to not only admit I was a jerk to you, but also that I like you and I kinda wanna jump your bones. No, that’s not accurate. I definitely want to jump your bones.’ See? Easy peasy.”
“Fuck off, D,” I bite out, but the smile won’t leave my lips. A small part of me wants to parrot that spiel back to him. I was a jerk, I know that, and I’m capable of admitting it when there’s something to admit. Though I still think some of it was warranted. The rest of me kinda wants to duck and run for cover because all this emotional stuff makes me queasy. Physical attraction? I’m good. Acting on physical attraction? Also good. Admitting that I like-like someone? Makes me twitchy.
“I know you like me, Ryne. Even if you won’t explicitly come out and say it.”
“And how exactly do you know that? Because I’m smiling? I do smile sometimes. Don’t go buying a white tux and calling a preacher because of it. Besides, I could totally be faking and you’d never know.” What planet are we on that I mentioned a preacher and a tux? I’m seriously losing it. It’s like he’s crawled into my head and rewired some key components, but not in any way that makes sense.
“You’re not, and I think I’d know if you were. One look at your eyes tells me so.”
“My eyes,” I deadpan. He nods and turns over on his side, facing me. “You’re full of shit, Dacen. They’re just boring blue irises with a black hole in the center, all surrounded by white. How does that tell you anything?”
“First of all, they’re not boring and they’re not just blue. Staring into your eyes is like taking a walk down a pebble beach early on a foggy morning. Blue and grey stones surround you. They’re soft and smooth, but can also be painful if you step wrong.” Dacen’s voice trails off and his eyes bore into me with an intensity that’s almost tangible.
“Are we still talking about the color of my eyes?” My question comes out as a whisper and I hate how tenuous it sounds. It’s unnerving. Dacen ignores my question.
“The first time you got all up in my face and gave me one of your intense stares to try to scare me away, it had the opposite effect. I was hypnotized, not by the anger, but from the flash of desire that burned brightly behind it. So yes, Ryne, your eyes are pretty damn loud even when you’re silent. They speak your truth, regardless of what you do or don’t say out loud.”
He speaks very matter-of-factly as if this is an indisputable fact and he’s simply passing along the knowledge to me. I guess that answers my question then. But there’s an undertone to his words that pokes at me, pulling on my hair, my shirt, anything it can get a hold of, telling me to wake the hell up and get my head out of my ass. I’m also stunned. Speechless. Dumbfounded. Whatever other adjective means knocked flat on my ass and can’t speak, that’s me. I’ve never heard anyone describe eyes like that before, let alone mine.
“Second of all,” Dacen pauses. A snort sneaks out before I can stop it and I swiftly clamp my lips together. “Second of all, you could never pull off a white tux. You’re too doom and gloom. Only a black tux would do for you. And I myself would never wear a white tux because have you seen my skin tone? It would totally wash me out.” He shudders.
I stare at him, unblinking, while he mutters something under his breath about Southern boys, and I hear a Lord have mercy as well. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “Third of all, back to your eyes, the shade kinda subtly changes sometimes. When you’re angry, for example, the pale blue-grey is more of a flint color with some flecks of silver. I’ve also seen them change when you’re curious or excited.” I nod because I suppose I buy into what he’s saying now. “But my favorite shade is when they’re much, much darker. Wanna know why?”
Pretty sure I know where he’s going with this and I fight a losing battle to hold back a grin. “Why?”
“Because, Ryne, that’s the shade they are when you’ve got your lips on my body or your dick in my mouth. That’s the best shade of all.”
I suck in a breath. Swallowing hard, I look back up at the sky in silence, searching for answers to questions I haven’t voiced out loud, let alone allowed to become more than a faint whisper in my head. The bright sky and fluffy white clouds don’t hold the answers I seek, but I do know one thing, well, two things. I turn my head toward him again. “I asked Lily to make tacos for lunch specifically because you were coming over. And yes, you made me laugh earlier with the whole alphabetizing thing.”
When Dacen beams at me, I reach over and brush the backs of my fingers over one of his dimples, because that’s the only way I know how to say the things that are trying to take shape in my head.
31
Ryne
“So I was thinking.” Tyler sets his backpack down and slips into his seat in algebra. “That new outdoor movie theater finally opens this Friday. They’re doing an old horror movie marathon all weekend.”
I stare at him blankly. “And?”
“And I thought it would be fun if we all went and got horrified. It’s something different.”
