The Problem with Forever(45)

“Do you want to sit in here or outside?” I asked.

Rider’s lips curved up at the corner as he glanced over at Keira’s table. “Wherever you want. The world is your oyster.”

I grinned at that. I felt like if we went to the table, we wouldn’t have a chance to really talk. Plus, it had cooled down, as if summer had decided to make an early and hasty exit well before it was over. “Outside?”

No one stopped us as we headed out to the old picnic tables. Several of them were occupied, but we found an empty one. Rider sat beside me. Not across from me like some of the other students were sitting. He was close, his thigh nearly touching mine. I...I liked that.

It made me super aware of him as he sat my tray in front of me. I caught each breath he took as he peeled open the milk carton and placed it on my tray, and I felt every shift on the bench as he rested his left elbow on the table.

I took a drink of my milk. “Do you get in trouble for skipping this class?”

He shrugged, causing his arm to brush against mine. I liked that, too, but I didn’t like the noncommittal answer. “Rider?”

Picking up his slice of pizza, he glanced over at me. “It doesn’t matter.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

He took a bite and once he’d chewed, he said, “I’ll pass the class in the end. So it doesn’t matter.”

Rider was smart. Even Keira had recognized that about him. As a kid, he picked up things faster than anyone else, but going to class did matter. I knew I sounded like a dork thinking that, but how did he not get in trouble? So I asked as I peeled off a piece of pepperoni.

He didn’t answer immediately. “Honestly? They don’t care.”

“Who?” I went to drop the slice of pepperoni on his plate, but he snagged it and popped it in his mouth. “The teachers?”

“Yep. I think what they expect from me is the bare minimum.” Taking a drink from his bottle of water, he grinned at me. “Like, showing up to class is enough.”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“The school doesn’t even call Mrs. Luna anymore. Stopped that back when...hell, when they realized I was a foster kid.” He snorted, and I couldn’t believe it. “Same with Paige and she’s not even in the system. It’s just because of where she lives. Hell, same with a lot of others. They see an address and they check out.”

Confused, I shook my head. “Your address?”

He shook his head. “Your address is the type that impresses them. Half this damn school? Hell no.” Stopping, he glanced at my plate. “You eating?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a child. I can...eat on my own.”

Rider raised a brow and there was no mistaking the slow slide that started at the top of my head and traveled downward. My cheeks pinked. “Trust me,” he said, his voice gruffer. Deeper. “I know that. Trying to wrap my head around it, but I know that.”

I gaped. Now I had no idea what to say.

He eyed my pizza.

Okay, then. I picked it up and took a bite. Better than sitting there staring at him like a fool.

“Anyway, I’m not in trouble,” he said, picking up a napkin and wiping his fingers off.

I thought about that as I took another bite and then dropped the pizza on the plate once more. “You don’t get in trouble, because they...” I peeled off another pepperoni and handed it over. His fingers brushed mine this time, warming my skin. “They don’t expect anything from you? Is that what you’re saying?”

Rider lifted a shoulder again, not responding.

Holy crap, that was what he was saying. Unsettled, I glanced at my half-eaten pizza. “Is that true?”

He glanced at me and his lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. “I think it’s kind of...kind of good that you even have to ask that.”

I folded my hands in my lap. “What do...you mean?”

Finishing off his pizza, he twisted at the waist and faced me. I straightened, but there was little room between us. As close as we were, I could see the golden flecks in his eyes when his lashes lifted. A small grin was on his lips, but it seemed lacking. “You’re in a good place,” he said. “Have been the last four years. You were taken in by great people. Doctors. You’re not living that other kind of life anymore.”

“But...but you said Mrs. Luna was good?” Worry rose. Had he lied?

He reached into the small space between us and tapped his forefinger off my hand. There were no paint smudges on it today. “She is. She’s great, but...look, it doesn’t matter.” His finger traced the line of the bone, skating across my palm, toward my wrist. “I’m not in trouble. I’m not going to get into trouble.”

It did matter, though, because it made me think the school didn’t think Rider was worth the trouble. Or worse yet, he didn’t think that he was. And he was. I started to tell him just that, but he turned over my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. My thoughts briefly scattered.

Rider was holding my hand.

He’d done that a lot when we were little, but it felt so very different now. So much so that I couldn’t help but stare at his hand, at how much larger it was than mine, rougher and harder.

You’re not living that other kind of life anymore.