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But even as I thought that, Todd sent me puppy-dog eyes. “If time’s the problem, then give me some time to get to know you.”
I started to shake my head no, all too ready to wash my hands of him, and his best friend, and their entire group of phony friends, but he grasped my fingers and looked deep into my eyes with a desperate kind of pleading.
“I really like you, Grace. And I’ll do anything…anything to get one more chance.”
I gawked down at our clasped hands. He liked me? Really liked me? No boy had ever admitted such a thing to me. It was flattering. Majorly flattering.
But even as my cheeks flushed with pleasure and embarrassment, a trickle of guilt wormed through me because I knew I didn’t really like him in return. And probably never would. There was no tingle surging through my limbs just from looking at him, no buzzing energy coming from our clasped hands like there had been with—
Ugh. I so was not going to think about him again.
“We can slow down,” Todd assured, his voice soft and coaxing and his thumb moving over the backs of my knuckles in a hypnotic fashion.
I squinted at his thumb, not certain if I liked the feel of it or not. He was being gentle, not applying any pressure, but his assumption that he had every right to touch me still jarred a jittery sense of unease through me.
With a father dead for thirteen years, and no brothers, no close uncles or grandfathers, I was not used to touching boys, or men, or anyone from the male persuasion for that matter. Besides Adam, I don’t think I even talked to boys my age, except maybe Bridget’s older brother, Joel, but he was always so annoying in an older-brother kind of way, I had pretty much grown too irritated just looking at him to get antsy and uncomfortable.
My internal warning radar bleeped and I fought the sensation to yank my hand away. But his hazel eyes were so begging, an innocent kind of begging that told me he had no idea how uncomfortable he was making me; I caved.
“How slow?” I asked.
Eyes lighting with a triumph I wasn’t willing to give him yet, Todd grinned. “As slow as you want. Turtle slow. In fact, we can all go out as a group again. This Friday. Bowling for real. The bowling alley in town is a great place to hang.”
I wrinkled my face with doubt. I was an awful real-life bowler. Plus the idea of hanging out with his group again—Ryder included—was exactly what I wanted to avoid. “I don’t know.”
“Please, please, please. I want to chance to get to know you better too.”
I sighed. This was ridiculous. I—Grace Indigo—was being begged to accept a date with a good-looking boy and I was hesitating. What was wrong with me? Honestly.
“Okay,” I gave in on a reluctant sigh, “we can get to know each other. But I don’t want anyone else calling me Stangman’s woman. We’re not dating. We’re just—”
He lifted his hands, cutting me off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of all the gossip.” His smile was wide and—dang it—gloating.
Grr. Curse Ryder Yates for highlighting that word in my vocabulary.
“Leave everything to me.” Todd slapped a quick, happy kiss to my cheek. “You won’t regret it, Grace.”
Then he swept away, leaving me alone in the short, empty hall, already regretting it. I wiped at the wetness he’d left on my cheek, wondering what the heck I’d just gotten myself into.
“I cannot believe you just let him talk you into that.”
I lifted my face to find a scowling Ryder barreling around the corner to glare at me. He jarred to a halt and set his hands on his hips, looking like some disappointed father who’d found out his child had broken curfew.
I frowned right back. “Were you eavesdropping?”
He snorted. “Well, yeah. It was a little hard not to while you were yelling.”
Straightening my back into a stiff, self-righteous gesture, I ground my teeth, just begging for braces. If Ryder wanted to fight, fine, I was in the mood to fight.
“Oh, I’m sorry, would you like me to yell at you too? Great. Mind your own business, nosey.” Storming into action, I barreled past him and marched off.
Back in senior hall, I veered left and down toward the back corridor that had been fairly traffic-free yesterday between classes. Besides, I could drop by art class and ask Miss Abernathy a question about an idea I had for my big art project.
But I heard the distinct sound of footsteps following me. Ryder’s gaze bore into the back of my neck, causing it to sizzle with awareness. As I turned the corner, he kept steady pace on my heels.
“Grace,” he said.
Tired of having him for a shadow or maybe tired of being so aware of him back there, I stopped and spun around. “What?”
