The Problem with Forever (5 page)

Chapter 5

The following morning I could practically see the wheels of doom churning behind Rosa’s eyes as she quizzed me on why I’d asked her what I had the day before.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Rosa was brilliant and she was as observant as a high-strung cat, and the fact I was asking her to translate what she informed me that morning sounded like Puerto Rican had her little ears twitching.

I’d stared at that text message—those two words—for a ridiculous amount of time. Absolutely paralyzed by...by the infinite amount of things I could’ve texted back that by the time I settled on a similar response, it was past one in the morning, and I was too worried about waking him up to respond.

I was such a dork. Seriously.

Now I was sleepy and I learned pretty quickly that trying to navigate the crowded halls of the high school while half-asleep could’ve been a plot straight out of one of the dystopian novels I’d read.

Dumping my speech textbook into the steel-gray tomb of my locker, I grabbed my first two classes’ texts, knowing I’d have time to swing by to switch out books later. I closed the door, doing everything in my power not to think about seeing Rider while telling myself that if Keira talked to me today, I would totally respond like a normal person. The door got stuck. Sighing, I pulled it out and put a little more effort into slamming it shut. It latched this time. Satisfied, I hitched up my bag and started to turn.

“You?”

Twisting at the waist, I searched out the sound of the voice and then I saw her. The girl from speech class. The girl who had touched Rider in a way that said that happened a lot and Rider was okay with it.

“It’s you.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “I want to live a life of denial right now, but it’s really you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl with the tiny braids who’d said hi to me yesterday stop a few feet from us, eyeing the locker this girl stood in front of. She backpedaled and spun in the opposite direction.

Oh, man, that wasn’t a good sign.

The girl in front of me pursed glossy pink lips. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Slowly, I shook my head.

“I know who you are, and not because you’re in my speech class. I just can’t believe it’s
you
,” she continued. “I figured you’d be dead or something by now.”

My heart dropped to my feet. Second day of school, and I was already getting death threats?

The strap of her beat-up, olive-green messenger bag slipped an inch on her shoulder. “I’m Rider’s girlfriend,” she said flatly.

Oh.

Oh.

Well, that did explain the touching.

There was a weird sensation in my chest. Wasn’t quite disappointment. More like acceptance. Of course, I figured as much yesterday when I saw them walking into class. And he was gorgeous. This girl was stunning. It made sense, even to someone like me who had no experience with the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. But I
did
watch TV. I read books. I had Ainsley. I knew Rider’s relationship with this girl made sense.

She eyed me speculatively, like she was trying to figure something out. “He’s talked about—”

“What’s goin’ on?” Jayden appeared at the girl’s side. Like out of thin air.

Up close this time, I realized he was probably younger than this girl and me. Maybe a freshman or sophomore? His eyes, the same light green color as Hector’s, weren’t as red as they’d been yesterday when I’d seen him in the hall.

The girl glanced down at him, as surprised as I was to see him. “What do you want?”

“Don’t be a
puta
, Paige.” Those green eyes rolled, but his lips twitched into a grin as he reached over and tugged on her thick braid. “What are you today? The ghetto Katniss?”

She snatched her braid free. “You don’t even know who Katniss is, you little punk. You probably think
The
Hunger Games
is what happens after you get high.”

Um.

“Sounds about right.” Jayden winked at me, his smile sly. “I know you. We ran into each other in the hall yesterday.” He paused. “And I saw you talkin’ to Rider after class—out in the parking lot.”

My gaze darted to the girl—to Paige. Her stare was glacial. “Are you mute or something? You haven’t said one word to me,” she said.

I was
so
not mute.

Jayden’s brows knitted together as he eyed her. “That’s a stupid question, Paige. I just said I saw her talkin’ to Rider.”

“You know what?” Her face scrunched up and somehow she managed to still look good. She twisted toward him, planting her hands on her hips. “Boy, you have enough shit going on, you don’t need to be all up in my business.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Brave words from the chick who’s always all up in mine.”

They were obviously distracted with one another, and as the two bickered in a way that said this wasn’t the first or the last time they would, I pivoted around and eased into the mass of students heading to class.

Are you mute
?

My cheeks were burning by the time I reached my class, and the embarrassment quickly festered into anger—mostly at myself. I could’ve said something to her, anything, instead of standing there like I didn’t have a functioning tongue.

And God. She was Rider’s girlfriend. For real. The girl that asked me if I was mute, the girl I’d just stood in front of like a loser, was his girlfriend.

I resisted the urge to bang my head on my desk.

Mute.

I hated that word with a passion.

Everyone had believed I was mute—Miss Becky and Mr. Henry, group home workers, CPS. Even Carl had thought that when he and Rosa first met me. Only Rider had known that it wasn’t true. That I could talk just fine.

But I didn’t speak today.

Dr. Taft had this fancy phrase for why I hadn’t spoken for so long—post-traumatic stress syndrome, he called it, because of...of everything I’d experienced as a small child. Half of our therapy sessions had been dedicated to working on coping mechanisms and ways to combat it.

It had taken so much to get to where I was today, to a point where I no longer felt like I needed the therapy sessions, and a handful of minutes made me feel like I’d taken twenty steps backward. Like I was the Mallory I’d been at five years old, and then at ten, and at thirteen—the Mallory who did and said nothing. The Mallory who just stood there in silence because that seemed like the safest route.

I hated that feeling.

I clenched the pen tight in my hand, ignoring the way my knuckles ached. Tears of frustration burned the back of my throat, and it was hard to focus in my chemistry class, even harder not to cave to the messy ball of emotion, especially when it struck me that I was sitting in the back of the class again.

Not drawing any attention to myself.

* * *

Keira immediately swiveled toward me the moment she sat down in English class. “Okay. I have a really weird question for you.”

Caught off guard, I blinked as my stomach dipped a little. Was she going to ask if I was mute?

She smiled as she tucked a stray curl back behind her ear. It popped right back out. Bright blue earrings dangled from tiny lobes. “Have you ever thought about trying out for cheerleading?”

I stared at her. This was totally a joke, right? Then I glanced around the classroom. No one was looking at us or holding their phones up, recording this moment for posterity.

“I mean, you look like you’re pretty sturdy. You could be the base or a back spot,” she said, shrugging like she hadn’t just said I looked
sturdy
. “Look, we’re kind of desperate. Not a lot of girls around here are into it and one of my teammates broke her wrist yesterday in practice, so I thought about you.” She ran her hand down her slim arm, twisting the blue bangle at her wrist. “So what do you think?”

Uh.

“You’re really cute and the blue-and-red uniform would go great with your hair,” she suggested, glancing at the door.

My tongue felt thick and my throat swollen as I reached deep down inside my head and forced myself to live up to all the work I’d done to get to this point. “Um, I’m...I’m not really the rah-rah type.”

One dark brow arched elegantly. “Do I look like a rah-rah type?”

I shook my head, unsure if that was the right answer or not. I had nothing in common with cheerleaders. They were loud and talkative and popular and pretty and about a thousand things I had absolutely no experience with. Then again, I really wasn’t sure if all cheerleaders were loud and talkative and popular and pretty. Keira was the first one I’d ever met, so I was basing my assumptions off movies and books, and Lord knew, the movies and books kind of sucked when it came to stereotyping things.

Wincing, I realized just how offensive my statement could’ve seemed to her. The rah-rah type? Sometimes it was better not to talk.

She laughed softly. “It’s really fun. At least think about it, okay?”

The pen I was squeezing in my hand was seconds away from imploding blue ink all over my fingers. “Okay.”

Her smile spread across her cheeks. “Cool. You have B lunch, right? Next period? Thought I saw you yesterday, but I think you left the cafeteria. And I saw you in speech class, right? Then again, it’s hard to see anything other than Hot Hector.”

Nodding, I wasn’t sure where this conversation was heading.

“Well, if you get bored or anything at lunch, find me.” Flipping her gaze to her notebook, she wrote out the date at the top of the right-hand corner. “I’m usually up front—at the loud table. Hard to miss us.”

Was she inviting me to lunch? Oh my God, Paige and her Katniss braid could suck it. This was major. Like a huge step in the right direction, and as Ainsley would say, if I didn’t speak up, I might as well sew my mouth shut.

“Okay,” I breathed, feeling kind of stupid, but this was equivalent to four Christmas mornings rolled into one.

Keira shot me a quick grin. When the bell rang after forty long minutes of listening to Mr. Newberry wax poetic about dead male writers, she wiggled her fingers at me and then disappeared into the hall.

I made a pit stop at my locker, switched out books and was relieved that Paige didn’t pop out of one of the doors. I wasn’t going to think about her or who she was to Rider.

With a slightly stupid pep talk playing over and over in my head, I headed down to the first floor and past the stacked trophy case.
I can do this. I can do this
. As I stepped into the busy, crowded cafeteria, my throat tightened, and I decided I should probably get my lunch first.

But I couldn’t help but look at the table I’d seen Keira at before. She was sitting next to a girl but the seat on her other side was empty. My breath caught.
I can do this.
I started toward the lunch line.

“You’re breaking my heart.”

At the sound of Rider’s voice, I wheeled around, clutching my bag to my side. First thing I noticed was the faded Ravens emblem stretched over his broad chest, and then I forced my eyes up. The slight scruff along his jaw was gone. Nothing but smooth skin today.

No notebook. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, a familiar, crooked grin pulled at Rider’s lips, causing the dimple in his right cheek to pop. He stepped forward, and my heart did a backflip as he dipped his chin. I felt his warm breath on the side of my cheek as he spoke.

“You didn’t respond to my text last night,” he said, and there was a light, teasing tone I didn’t remember from before. “I thought maybe you didn’t realize it was me, but that would mean someone else would be texting you good-night and calling you Mouse. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

I shook my head so fast I was surprised the ends of my hair didn’t smack him in the face.

He laughed under his breath. “I’m just kidding. You getting something to eat or...?”

My gaze drifted to the table, and I saw Keira. She was staring at us. So was the blonde beside her. Keira raised her brows at me as her dark eyes moved between Rider and me.

Rider reached down and took my hand in his. The contact sent a jolt through me, and my gaze flew back to his. “Come with me?” he asked.

Thrown by his appearance and by his touch, I let him lead me through the shorter lunch line for pizza. My gaze was wild, bouncing all over the faces of those in line and sitting at the tables. Then I realized why Keira and half of her table were staring at us.

Muscles in my stomach clenched.

I was holding hands with Rider—and he had a girlfriend.

Mouth dry, I tugged my hand free from Rider’s. Even though he’d held my hand a thousand times in the past, it didn’t feel right after what I’d learned about him and Paige. Everything was... It was different now.

Rider glanced down at me, expression curious. I looked away. He loaded up a single plate with two slices. My hand tingled as he grabbed a bottle of water and a milk.

“You still drink milk with everything?” he asked, scanning the drinks with his head tilted slightly to the side, and then he looked down at me. Our gazes met. “Like you need it to survive?”

I nodded as my heart turned into a gooey mess. He actually remembered that I drank milk every chance I got—that and Cokes, when Rosa and Carl let me get away with it.

He held my stare for a moment and then, before I could get to my wallet, he pulled out a series of crumpled ones and paid the cashier. I started to protest, but he sent me that look—the lowered-brows look he’d sent me a million times over when we were younger. The Don’t Argue Look. It was strange seeing the eighteen-year-old version, and I mulled that over as he balanced the plate and drinks in his hands. He nodded toward the entrance of the cafeteria, and I glanced in Keira’s direction. Her head was bent toward the blonde, her tight curls going in every direction. It seemed like she was in a deep conversation, and she didn’t look up.

Tomorrow, I promised myself.

I followed Rider out of the cafeteria, curious about where he was leading us. We passed the gym. Doors were open, and I thought I caught a glimpse of Hector jogging, a basketball in his hands as he shouted something in what sounded like Spanish but was slightly different. Rosa had said it was Puerto Rican, and I was going to have to take her word for it.