Bittersweet Symphony (Bittersweet #4)(10)
“What? He should know better than to treat a lady like that. Are you okay?” Mimi shrugs as if it’s no big deal. It’s strange how she can go from being an angry, mad woman to a caring person in five seconds flat.
“Yeah… I’m okay.” I’m so flabbergasted that I stumble over my words.
She eyes me carefully. “You don’t look okay. Actually, you look rather shocked.” Well yeah, of course I’m in shock…in less than a week, I have had not one, but two, people stick up for me. Better write it down in the world record book.
“Sorry... I’m just not used to having people stick up for me, that’s all.” I shift my backpack on my shoulder, the weight of it becoming heavier and heavier as this conversation carries on.
“Just watching your back, girl. You know everything Jenna went through. He…” she says, pointing in the direction Sam went. “He has a problem or problems. People aren’t like that for no reason. Someone either f*cked him over or hurt him somehow. The only way for him to deal with it is to lash out at others.”
The truth pricks at me like a million little needles digging into my skin. Yeah, it’s your fault he’s this way. Had you just loved him, he wouldn’t be so dark and cold. He wouldn’t hate the world. You would be the reason for his happiness, and you would have saved him.
After being in my head a moment longer than needed, I start talking again.
“When did you become a psychologist?” I ask sarcastically. I know what causes people like him to tick. Unlike Jenna though, I stood up for myself from the beginning. Jenna wasn’t weak, but she also didn’t show Corey and his lackeys who she was. They broke her, and I refuse to let Sam break me.
“Uhh...let me think,” She mocks back. “I was born a psychologist. Actually, now that I think about it, I was probably born an * too.”
“I’m pretty sure you weren’t born a psychologist; otherwise, you would be able to figure out your own problems and not burden me with them.” I can’t help but tease her about Corey. Everyday it’s something new. Corey’s bothering me or God, I hate him so much are her daily mantras. It seriously never ends.
She lets out a vulgar laugh. People watch us as we walk the distance over to our usual spots. “That’s hilarious, girl, but I’m sure if a psychologist got his hands on my problems, he would need help himself. Besides, I ran out of welcoming T-shirts that say Welcome to Crazyville… We can’t help you! We can’t even help ourselves!
I look at her like she is crazy because, well, she is crazy. “You’re frickin’ crazy.”
“I know. I was just telling you that.”
“Well, leave your crazy behind, we have a study session to get to.” Mimi smiles, letting out a harsh laugh. I stare at her, feeling as if something is off. She doesn’t look differently, but most people who were dying on the inside don’t show much on the outside.
“Is something wrong?” I question, sitting down in the chair in front of her.
“No. Does it look like there is something wrong?” She retorts, her tone aggressive and defensive.
“Uh no.” No way am I getting into this with her; some things are better left unsaid.
“Good.”
***
By the time my study session with Mimi was over and I had finished my afternoon classes, I am starving to the point where I could eat someone’s arm off like a walker from The Walking Dead.
“Blondie, want to get lunch with me?” Ryder’s voice is velvety, smooth, rich, and welcoming. I can practically see the smile on his face, even without turning around.
“You want to go to lunch with me?” I ask, swinging around. He’s at the end of the sidewalk under one of the awnings. He looks beautiful - his eyes twinkle in the sunlight, and his skin looks darker. He is wearing a pair of low hanging blue jeans and a dark blue Henley. He is crisp and clean.
“Well, who else would I be asking?” His response is playful, which seems strange to me because Ryder’s anything but playful. He’s a brute, aggressive by nature and just plain scary.
“I’m sure you have your pick of women throwing themselves at you. Right?” I can’t help raising my eyebrow. Does he honestly think he can fool me with that line?
He eats up the distance between us in no time, and why I continue to stand there watching him walk toward me, I can’t tell you. Wait, maybe I can…He is just that distracting.
“You’re right, I could, but none of them are you, Kennedy.” His words are for my ears only, and they send a shiver down my spine. His eyes are intense, but there isn’t an ounce of dishonesty in them.
“Okay, okay, lunch it is.” I turn around ready to walk away, hoping he doesn’t follow. Honestly, though not much is known about him, I can see myself easily becoming like the rest of the women here at Berkeley. I can join the melting women who would be there at his every beck in call.
“Tacos,” he says, his voice obliterating whatever thoughts I’m thinking.
“Huh?” I ask, confused on where tacos came into the conversation
“Tacos. That’s what I want to eat, sweetheart, and if we’re having tacos, you’re going the wrong way.”
I stop dead in my tracks causing him to bump into the back of me. His hands wrap around my body instantly, holding me into place so I don’t fall. I can feel his warmth on my back, on every part of my skin. It draws me in, reminding me of those cold nights at my grandparents’ in the mountains. Of how one simple, little blanket in the dead of the night could bring so much warmth. I know that if I want to, I can let Ryder be that blanket.