The Problem with Forever(79)

And I thought more about what I was passionate about. What screamed my name, and I realized as I finished filling in the Y, I had no answer. Everything about me was superficial, barely scratched the surface. I liked to read. I liked to carve soap. I liked to watch Project Runway. I didn’t love any of those things.

I didn’t want to write like Ainsley did. Carving soap was more of a weird hobby—my own version of meditation. And I couldn’t design a white cotton T-shirt to save my life.

Man, I was...kind of blank. Like the spots on the canvas that had just the tiniest drops of paint on it. There were things I liked, things that had caught my attention over the years, but for the most part, I was empty.

Over the past couple of years, I’d been slowly unpacking all the emotional baggage from the past, all the trauma and fear, but that mess had done more than just keep me silent, existing in the background. It had held me back from—from living. Wasn’t that what being passionate really was? Living? Except that fear was still there and because of it, I was this blank thing.

Oddly, a pressure lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t feel bad about this as I rose. I was basically a blank canvas and that wasn’t a bad thing, I decided in that moment, because that meant I...I could be whatever.

I could become anything.

I just had to do it.

But my name looked like a bloody marshmallow.

I grinned behind the mask.

“I like it.” Rider removed his mask as he walked over to the bench, dropping the can and mask there. “What do you think?”

Tugging the mask off over my head, I smiled at him. “I like it.” I glanced back at our names. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’m sure the party...is probably more interesting—”

“Not true. I can’t think of a place I’d rather be,” he said, twisting his long and lean body toward mine. “Honestly.”

My brows flew up. I wasn’t sure if I should believe him or not.

He picked up a cloth. “Show me your hands.”

I did. Two of my fingers had red smudges on them, much like his always seemed to. Taking my hand between his, he gently scrubbed at the paint. “I’m being serious, Mallory. I’m happy you’re here. I don’t care about a party.”

Staring up at him as he diligently cleaned my hand, I decided to let myself believe what he was saying. To take his words at face value. Pulling the cloth away, he inspected my hand. “You don’t see what I see.”

“What?”

His brows furrowed together as he swiped the cloth over my pointer finger once more. Then he dropped the cloth behind him and picked up the red spray can.

“I want to back up to this whole caring about me thing,” he said, surprising me as he made his way back to the canvas. “I know you care about me, Mallory.”

My heart started beating fast as he shook the can.

“I care about you.” He knelt halfway down. A second passed and he moved his arm, spraying on the canvas. “And I think this was missing something.”

Having no idea what he was doing or where he was going with this, I waited until he rose and stepped back, to the side. My lips parted on a soft gasp. Rider had spray-painted a heart between our names. I saw it with my own eyes:



*

Angling toward me, his grin was sheepish. Boyish. “That was probably really corny, wasn’t it?”

My heart was doing overtime, thumping so fast I thought I might have a heart attack.

“Or it was too much?” He tossed the can in a nearby trash can and slowly approached me. His cheeks were a vibrant pink. “It was definitely too much.”

I didn’t know what to say or do.

Rider wasn’t doing any of those things Ainsley said he’d do. He wasn’t playing it cool or hard to get. He was putting it out there, and I...I was...

“I like you, Mallory. And God knows you deserve a hell of a lot better than me.” He dipped his chin, laughing as he thrust his hand through his hair. “God. I suck at this. Can we just forget—”

I snapped out of it. “You like me?”

His gaze flew to mine. “Yeah, I do. And I know I’ve been with Paige and I’m not going to pretend that meant nothing, but it’s not how I feel for you. Not remotely like how I feel for you. And it’s not because of our past—because of you and I knowing each other for so long,” he said, and the words kept coming out in a rush. “At first, I thought that was why—this attraction I have to you. I thought it was because of everything we’d shared. And then the night I came to your place and you fixed me up, I thought it was just this physical thing.” Pink raced across his cheeks. “And it is most definitely a physical thing, but it wasn’t just that. I think part of me knew that from the very first time you said my name.”

Now my pulse was pounding. He liked-liked me. Oh my God, this was unexpected. This was totally unplanned. It was an infinite, vast sea of unknown.

“I know you deserve better, but I want to be better. I want to be that for you.” His voice dropped low as he stopped in front of me. “That’s why I’m going to ask what I’m about to.”

The fluttering was deep in my chest and in my stomach. I felt breathless as I stared into his eyes. “Ask me what?”

A muscle flickered along his jaw as his chest rose sharply. “Can I kiss you?”