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I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Of course not.”
“Mmm, yes, you have,” he retorts in an evident tone. “Let it out, buddy.”
“Why are you so pushy?” I ask, trying to avoid the subject and distract him enough to make him forget all about it.
Ry shrugs, taking importance from the topic. It’s not like he’s affected by my words.
“That’s the way I am. Deal with it,” he says and hits my shoulder. “Don’t change the topic.”
A groan gets stuck in my throat. It’s not something that I want to talk about, but I also know that Ryder won’t let it go either. He’s worse than my mother when she wants to know something.
“It’s Bree.”
That’s all that I say, but it’s more than enough for him to understand what I’m saying.
He raises his eyebrows.
“So, you’re having girl trouble,” he guesses, and I can feel a trace of mischief in his voice. “Is this my moment to sayI told you?”
I bite my tongue, fighting against the urge to punch him. I’m pissed that he’s right. He told me that this would happen when I invited Bree over the first time. Back then, I was blind to the possibility that I may have liked her. I can now say that I dug my own grave with everything that’s going on. I’m more than sure that I’m into her.Hell, I’m so into her that it hurts.
“Fuck you.”
His lips curve into a wolfish grin.
“Oh, so it is my moment,” Ryder comments, mocking me. Then his face turns serious when I scoff. “I’m sorry, Stan.”
“Sure.”
“We all saw it was coming,” he adds.
“Sure.”
“If it makes you feel better—”
The dry noise of someone knocking on the door interrupts him. The sound is repetitive, loud, and desperate, almost seeming like the person is trying to tear down the wooden barrier.
I frown. We’re not expecting visitors, and it’s almost midnight. There’s only one person that I know that knocks like that, and that’s the same girl that has been ignoring me for the past two days. Worry settles in my stomach, and I stand up quickly, walking towards the door to confirm my theory. Part of me wants to leave her in the hall to let her know that I’m mad at her, but everything breaks down when I open the door, and I see her. Bree’s face is wet with tears, and a recent bruise is forming on her left cheekbone.
The relief shows in her face when she sees me, and she throws herself at me. Her hands surround my torso, her face buried on my chest as she sobs uncontrollably. Without knowing what else to do, I hug her back, trying to comfort her even when my mind is blank. I turn my head to look at Ryder, asking for help, but he’s just as astonished as I am.
We have no clue what’s going on. The only thing that we know for sure is that Bree isobviouslyupset about something.
Carefully, without separating her from me, I guide Bree to the couch, searching for a more comfortable position. Ryder quickly moves around, turns off the TV, and puts the controllers away. I help her to sit on the couch as she continues to cry on my chest. I can feel the tears wetting my shirt. That doesn’t bother me at all. I just want to know what happened to her to be this way. I’ve never seen her cry before, so this is an entirely new field for me.
“Bree,” I call her, pushing her away from me a little to examine her. I take a hand to her chin, turning her face slightly to observe the reddish bruise on her cheekbone. She winces when my fingers roam over it. “What happened?”
Bree wipes her tears with the back of her hand. Her glossy sight trails off as she purses her lips together.
“A guy came out of nowhere and mugged me,” she says, her voice trembling.
Ryder approaches with a glass of water, offering it to her. Bree accepts it but doesn’t drink from it. Her hands wrap the crystal, using it as a distraction.
“Fuck. Are you okay? Did he do something to you?” My voice sounds desperate, my eyes trying to catch if she has other physical wounds that I’m not aware of. Bree’s in one piece. The only thing that catches my attention is the future black eye that she’ll have, but other than that, she seems physically okay.
It’s her mind that I’m worried about.
