Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(35)
“Again, I should feel flattered?”
This time around, he nods with certainty. “Absolutely.” With one wink, I’m all dumb girl and goo. It’s ridiculous. And not at all safe.
“Why are you out here…in the cold?” I change the subject.
He notices, clearing his throat before he says, “I needed to concentrate before my next class. The lunchroom doesn’t give me time to myself.” He zips up his leather jacket, shutting out the wind.
“What class?” I really need to leave, to just end this now. I wasn’t fabricating a complete lie when I told Vee and Haley I had to hand in pages to my professor; I do—not today, but I was planning to get a jump on it. Distract my brain.
Ryder slips his hands into his jeans’ pockets, shrugging. “Writing. Well, one of my creative writing classes. It’s an important one, anyway.”
I feel my face scrunch up at his vagueness. Then I remember how revealing his major to my father seemed to embarrass him. Ryder doesn’t come across as the type to be embarrassed by anything. So this must be a delicate subject for him.
After how we parted last time, I tread lightly. I know there can’t be anything serious between us, but I can’t help feeling there’s more to this guy than just sports. Like if I peeled back the layers one at a time, slowly, this whole genuine, thought-provoking person would unfold.
I want to know him.
Just…objectively. From a safe, shielded distance.
“Was writing your first choice in major?” I ask, and stuff my now-numb hands into my jacket pockets. “I mean, I’m not trying to sound insensitive, but that’s a strange major for a guy planning to go pro after college.”
He nods once, as if he’s thinking it through, then jerks his head sideways. I follow him to the huge elm in the middle of the courtyard. “I know it’s strange. Believe me, it wasn’t easy to convince my coach in my second year that I wanted to switch majors.” He leans against the bark of the tree, then grasps my jacket and tugs me closer.
My stomach flutters where his hand lightly brushes, then just as quickly, I’m shielded from the wind. By him and the tree. “You look cold,” he says, the wind pushing his dark hair into his eyes. “Anyway, yeah. Always loved to read, always enjoyed writing, when I had time. So I thought…I don’t know. Why not?”
I squint up at him. “Nope. Not buying it.” And I’m not. The way he hesitated before when revealing his major to me and my family makes me think there’s more to it. “But, keep your secret for now. We all have them.”
His eyes widen. “For now?”
Burying my hands deeper into my pockets, I lift my shoulders, trying to block the wind from my neck. “Don’t read so much into what I say, Ryder. I’m not that deep.”
“Well, I know that’s bullshit,” he says, and reaches behind my head and pulls out the hairband. My curls tumble free. With delicate movements, he brushes my hair over my shoulders, his fingers skimming my neck.
A shiver wracks my body. But it’s not at all from the cold.
“You might ask a girl first before just rearranging her hairstyle,” I say. But the warmth from my hair feels good on my neck. “Now the wind is going to batter my hair against my face.”
He shrugs boyishly. “I can remedy that, too,” he says with a mischievous glint in his clear blues.
Oh, holy hell. But he’s a smooth one. My dumb stomach flutters to life, my chest aches in that way that’s painful and tight, and feels too good all at the same time.
“So,” he says, breaking the intensity of the moment. “I was thinking. You have a way with words…”
A laugh escapes my mouth. “Says who?”
“Says the gift note you wrote me…by the way, I never thanked you. So thanks for the panties.” His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “And the ridiculously long text messages. Not to mention the metaphorical insults, like the one at the bonfire. Very impressive. I mean, who texts and talks like that?”
“People who know proper grammar?” I snark.
“Exactly.” He tugs on a hank of my hair, pulling the curl straight. “And because I’ve gone against everyone’s suggestion and majored in more than one writing class this semester, I could use some help.”
I feel my eyebrows draw together. “Are you serious? You’re really asking me to tutor you?” This guy cannot really think I’m falling for this old cliché. I swear, but he’s full of them. Only, I’m totally falling. He could ask me to cheer on the sidelines like some lovesick schoolgirl, and I probably would. I’m having a difficult enough time just standing here, not touching him. Every fiber of by being is reaching out to him, dying to make a connection.
Damn, but I’m helpless. A few weeks ago, I was ready to drop kick him. Now, after one intimate dance and a few intense moments, I’m ready to pounce him. I wonder how much of it is Ryder, and how much is the fear of my looming engagement.
“I’m dead serious,” he says, pulling me out of my dark thoughts. “After the other night, I understand, Ari. I get it.” His eyes widen with concern, as if he’s looking right into me. My breath stills. “You have a lot on your plate. Expectations, obligations….” He trails off. “I don’t want to be a complication for you. But I can’t not be around you. I like you.”