Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(15)

I pulled myself onto the bleachers, the changing angle sending a sharp sting through my knee. My jeans had ripped, revealing a couple of bleeding cuts. My mom was going to kill me; I only had a few pair of jeans and we couldn’t afford to buy a new pair right now.

I winced as I removed the loose bits of asphalt from my knee and the palms of my hands; my hands had small scrapes, but no blood was drawn. With the asphalt gone, the cuts on my knee didn’t look so bad, but they still stung. I screwed up my face in irritation, resigning myself to sit there until the crowd thinned out and Ryland found me.

I had only sat still a moment before Ryland burst through the rambunctious crowd in front of me, his brow furrowed in worry. His chin was dribbled in dry blood, his battered lip now swollen and blue. He looked at me before catching sight of my knee and dropping down to inspect it.

“Are you all right? I got here as quickly as I could.” His hands hovered around my knee for a bit before deciding the jeans were a lost cause. He reached out, obviously intent on ripping them more.

“No, don’t!” I pleaded.

“What?”

“I need these jeans, Ry.” I hoped he would catch my meaning without my having to profess my poverty.

“I’ll buy you some more.” He smiled shyly at me before pulling his hands apart, ripping the jeans down to the seam.

Great, my mom was definitely going to kill me now. They weren’t even patchable. I highly doubted she would let Ryland actually buy me a pair of new jeans, either. The cuts weren’t even that bad; they just liked to bleed a lot.

“Did you see me fall?” I asked, wondering what he had meant before.

Ryland looked up at me, a confused look on his face.

“You got here ‘as quickly as you could’?” I asked, repeating his phrasing.

He still sat at my feet, trying to find something to stop the bleeding.

“Yeah, I was standing over there,” he said, jutting his chin in the direction he came from.

He looked around a bit, as if he were looking for someone rather than something. Seeming not to find anyone specific, he sighed and removed his Rugby jersey.

My heart stopped. His muscles rippled as he removed the shirt, sweat glistening off every part of him. I should have been disgusted, but I couldn’t tear my dumbfounded stare away from him. His muscles were more spectacular than I would have expected: large defined shapes—dare I say—chiseled into his skin. He had a large ace bandage wrapped around his right shoulder, as if he was nursing an injury. I didn’t know that he had been hurt, though; he normally told me about these things. The whole image of him standing before me was like a bad cover on a romance novel. I forced myself to look away as he wrapped the shirt around my knee.

“It’s not the most sanitary, but it will work for now.” He tied the shirt before sweeping me up in his arms, careful to hold me away from his sweaty body.

“Ry! Put me down! I can walk!”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips as he carried me out of the stadium.

I looked behind us, seeing the horde of people jumping and cheering, and felt a pain of guilt.

“You’re going to miss your party,” I whispered, knowing the pleading was evident in my voice.

He didn’t slow his pace, but his jaw hardened and his hold on me tightened.

“Don’t worry about it.” His voice was controlled.

“Ry, it’s your senior year; you just won State. You. You scored the final points. You need to be there!”

He didn’t respond as he set me in the passenger seat of his bright yellow Lotus.

“Okay, how about I take you home and then I’ll come back? I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I can stay, Ryland,” I pleaded. “It’s just a little cut.”

“It’s not safe for you here.” He shut the door behind me and walked around the car. I turned my head toward the party. I wanted to stay, too, whether it was “safe” or not.

“What do you mean, it’s not safe? Is it because your dad showed up?”

He threw the car in reverse, ignoring my question.

“Ryland?”

“It’s just… Private school guys tend to drink a lot and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

It seemed like the lamest excuse I had ever heard. My forehead must have wrinkled in surprise, because Ryland laughed and then reached over to smooth my forehead with his thumb.

“You think I can’t fend off a bunch of drunken brats?” I was affronted. I may come off as timid, but I could defend myself. Or, at least, I hoped I could.

“I know you can’t,” he replied.

“Have some faith in me, Ry.” I don’t know why, but my pride bristled.

Ryland looked at me with obvious concern. “Drinking, drugs. We are all just spoiled boys. You shouldn’t be around that.”

“We?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t counting himself among them.

“Just trust me, ’kay? I know it kinda sucks, but I want to protect you.” His comment was odd; it still made no sense why I couldn’t stay.

“Protect me?”

“Yes, Jos. There are just some people that you shouldn’t be around.” His voice seemed distant and far away, as if he were thinking about something different. I opened my mouth to say something, but I blew off the idea of asking any more questions. He was set in his thoughts and not likely to respond.