The Problem with Forever

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  A couple of seconds passed. A minute turned into five, and I began to wonder if I was totally imagining things, but then a new text appeared and my heart stopped.

  Two words.

  I’m outside.

  Chapter 8

  Holy crap.

  For a second I was completely frozen as I stared at the text. He was outside? No, he couldn’t mean he was actually outside the—

  The doorbell rang, echoing from downstairs, and I whirled around, my lungs expanding rapidly.

  Holy crap balls.

  My brain sort of clicked off as I darted out of the room and down the hall, my bare feet flying down the steps. I almost barreled right through the foyer, stopping just shy of throwing the door open.

  I wasn’t stupid.

  Stretching up onto the tips of my toes, I peered through the peephole as I bit down on my lip. All I could see was the back of his head and the breadth of his shoulders.

  It was Rider. He was really here.

  Still clutching the phone and having no idea how this was happening, I swallowed hard as I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  Rider turned at the waist, and I ended up eye level with his chest. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to answer.”

  My gaze flicked up, and a strangled sound escaped me. I reached out, gripping his arm and all but dragged him inside. He caught the door with his other hand, closing it behind us.

  “Your face.” My grip tightened on his forearm. “What happened?”

  His brows furrowed as he reached up, touching the skin around the inch-long gash above his left eyebrow. Blood had dried around the cut and a bluish-purple shade had already begun to spread out around it. “This? Oh, it’s nothing.”

  I stared at him. “It doesn’t...look like nothing.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” Looking around the foyer, he peeled my white-knuckled grip off his arm. Instead of dropping my hand, he threaded his fingers through mine. “I thought you’d ask how I figured out which one was your house. I’m pretty impressed with my craftiness.”

  Yeah, I was curious about that, but he was going to end up with a matching scar above his left eyebrow now. “Rider, your forehead...”

  He glanced down at me as he squeezed my hand, grinning. “You told me you lived in the Pointe, so I took the metro to the Center and walked the rest of the way. Wasn’t too hard to figure out.” With his other hand, he ran the tips of his fingers over the fake daisies in the vase placed on the entry table. “I just looked for your car. Lucky me, it was in the driveway. So maybe I’m not that crafty.”

  Crafty or not, he was hurt and that made me feel sick. I started tugging him toward the living room.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked, letting me pull him along.

  My eyes widened. I’d totally forgotten I was dressed for bed and that the sleepwear showcased my sturdy body. “I was getting...ready for bed.”

  He arched his brow and then winced. “What time is it? Seven?”

  “Seven-thirty,” I murmured, guiding him out of the hall and into the living room.

  Taking in the spacious room, his attention lingered on all the potted plants in front of the bay window, then moved over the entertainment center and the built-in bookshelves. Then he turned to me. His gaze dipped, taking a slow slide down the length of my body, and I felt my toes curl against the hardwood floors. A rush of heady warmth followed his gaze and the answering tight shiver did strange things to certain parts of me.

  Our eyes locked.

  The stare held that same level of intensity from the day before. The temperature in the room zipped up several degrees and my breath suddenly felt short. He shifted closer.

  He was still holding my hand. “I probably shouldn’t have come here.”

  “You shouldn’t?”

  His head cocked to the side, and I saw then that the collar of his shirt was torn. My heart dropped, and he shook his head as he let go of my hand. I thought he might leave, so I stepped forward, practically closing the distance between us. “Sit.”

  Rider looked down at me, his expression indecisive.

  “Sit,” I repeated. “Please?”

  He looked behind me, seemed to have shuddered, and then he moved a pillow to the side before he sat. “Now what?” he asked, staring up at me with familiar yet strange eyes.

  “Stay here.” When he leaned back on the couch, shifting his attention back to the bookshelf, I hurried out of the living room.

  In the downstairs bathroom, I grabbed the peroxide and a few cotton balls and didn’t let myself think too much about this or worry about Carl and Rosa. I knew if they came home early, I’d be in so much trouble it wouldn’t even be funny, especially after the conversation yesterday. And though Rider’s presence might be a match to kindling, I honestly didn’t know how they’d react if they came home and found any boy in the house. I’m sure that was another thing that never crossed their minds.

  Or mine.

  Rider was where I’d left him, and I exhaled softly as I skirted the coffee table. He looked at what I carried, and a half grin appeared. “I’m fine, Mouse. Seriously.”

  I shrugged as I came toward him, getting between his knees and the coffee table. “What happened?”

  “Just some...some trouble,” he said, rubbing his palm along his jaw. “It’s nothing I want you to worry about.”

  Unscrewing the peroxide cap, I soaked a cotton ball and then placed the bottle on the table. The sharp scent went straight to my nose. “You...you always made everything sound like it’s not a big deal. You’re doing that now.”

  His lips continued to curve on the right and the dimple appeared. Then he sighed and scooted forward, spreading his legs. His hands suddenly landed on my hips, and I almost dropped the cotton ball at the unexpected contact. My breath caught as he lowered me so I was sitting on the edge of the coffee table and he kept moving forward, the inside of his legs sliding against the outside of mine. The rough material of his jeans touching my bare skin sent a raw, drenching rush of sensation through my veins.

  “That better?” he asked, peering at me through lowered lashes.

  I blinked, having no idea what he was talking about, and then I realized that seated like this, it was easier to reach him. His hands dropped from my hips to rest on his thighs, and they were oh so close to mine.

  Stretching toward him, I gently swiped along the gash, and when he sucked in a breath, I pulled my hand back.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  I tried again, and this time he didn’t move or make a sound. “Are you going to tell me...what happened?”

  A moment passed, and I glanced down at him. “This reminds me of old times,” he said, and his lashes lifted. As his gaze drifted over me, it was focused but all too brief, because he looked away, a muscle working along his jaw. “Kind of.”

  A flush raced across my cheeks as I switched out the ball for a new one. He was right—this was like all the other times I’d cleaned him up. Well, when I was younger, I tried to clean him up, but had no idea what I was doing, but as we grew older, and he got into fights defending me or for some other reason, this was our routine.

  Except I was pretty sure that when his gaze roamed over me just now, he’d checked out my breasts, and that was definitely something that hadn’t happened before. Back then I doubted he even realized that I had them.

  Probably because they didn’t appear until about two years ago.

  My thoughts whirled to the car in the parking lot and to what Keira had said the day before as I cleaned up the cut. Was this a result of the shady people he was hanging out with? Would he now have matching scars above both eyebrows? I didn’t like the idea of that. “Why haven’t you been in class?”

  “I had some stuff to take care of.”

  “That’s not an answer.” When he said nothing, I tried again. “Are you... Are you safe, Rider?”

  He turned his cheek toward me, and I almost dabbed him in the eyeball. “That would�
�ve stung,” he murmured, catching my wrist. He plucked the ball out of my hand and tossed it on the coffee table. “I’m safe. I’m always safe.”

  I shook my head. “All those times you put yourself—”

  “Mouse...”

  “You put yourself in danger for me. You did, over and over again.” Anger snapped at the heels of the concern welling in my chest. “You never really stopped to think about...what could happen to you.”

  He tilted his head back, meeting my gaze. “I knew what I was doing.”

  “You...” My throat thickened as memories rose like a vile, tainted wave. “You took beatings for me. You—”

  “Mouse,” he said gently. “I knew what I was doing then and I know what I’m doing now.”

  Was he basically telling me that he was now taking a beating for someone else? Without him saying any more, I knew it. I knew the bloody gash on his forehead wasn’t because of something he’d done, but something someone smaller, weaker had done. “Are you a masochist?”

  He stared at me a moment and then he laughed—that deep laugh that made me shiver. “That’s a good question.”

  “It’s not funny.” I started to pull my arm away, but he held on to my wrist. Our gazes held again, and words bubbled up my throat like champagne. “I don’t like seeing you hurt now any better than I did back then.”

  “But I’m not hurt.” His voice was low. “See? You took care of me.”

  There was a swelling feeling in my chest again, but this one was different. Sort of like a balloon being filled. “Is that why you came here?”

  He didn’t respond immediately. “I don’t know. I think I just missed you. Like not seeing you all this time after...after being around you every day for, hell, for a decade, and then...then I lost you. But now you’re back.” He smoothed his other hand over the top of mine. “It doesn’t seem real. The odds of us ever crossing each other’s path again had to be stacked against us, but here we are.”

  Here we are.

  “So how long do I have before—what were their names? Carl and Rosa? Yeah, that’s them. How long do I have before they come back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe...maybe an hour or so?” My hands felt incredibly small in his.

  That lopsided grin was back. “I doubt they’d be happy to find me here.”

  “Why?”

  His brows rose. “Maybe I’m wrong. They used to coming home to find some strange guy sitting on their couch?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Rider tugged on my hands, and I rose, letting him pull me down to the couch beside him. He leaned back, sliding one arm around my shoulders and tucking me against his side. “Just par for the course with you, huh?”

  I didn’t know what to do with my hands since he’d let go of them, so I folded them in my lap. “I’ve never had a...guy here.”

  Rider stiffened and then he twisted his neck so he was looking at me.

  Did I seriously admit that out loud? Squeezing my eyes shut, I sighed. “I’m just...going to shut up now.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t do that. I like listening to you talk.”

  With our sides pressed together and his arm around my shoulders, it was like having one foot in the past and one in the present. Being this close now felt totally different than before. If only the TV had been on, I imagined we’d be following in the footsteps of couples all over the world, cuddled up as we were.

  Except we weren’t a couple.

  I really needed to get that thought out of my head. “You didn’t, um, miss much in class. We have to read examples of...informative speeches.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  Our gazes met briefly, and I looked away. “Where have you been, Rider?”

  Rider was silent as he slid his hand up my arm. His fingers brushed over the bare skin of my shoulder as he curved his hand there. It seemed like such an unconscious move, but tiny bumps formed on my skin, chasing the caress. “Hector and I needed to talk to some people.”

  My gaze shifted up to his again. “Does talking involve fists?”

  A wry grin formed. “Sometimes.” He reached up, wiggling the knot of hair piled atop my head. “Hector’s brother...he’s young. Jayden’s just fifteen, but sometimes he seems even younger than that. You know, mentally, and he gets himself into some trouble.”

  Staring up at him, I was struck again by the fact that some things didn’t change. Or maybe it was some traits in people. “So you’re helping him out of trouble?”

  “Trying,” he murmured, resting his head against the back of the cushion. His eyes took on a hooded, lazy quality as he continued to mess with my hair. I had no idea what he was doing. “Anyway, we talked yesterday. Made sure Jayden got his ass to class today. The talking didn’t go as smoothly this evening.”

  Oh my God, I wanted to hug him and punch him. “Rider—”

  “Did you ever think we’d be sitting here?” he asked.

  “You’re changing the subject,” I pointed out.

  “I am.” He flashed a quick, impish grin. “But did you?”

  “No,” I admitted, swallowing against the sudden lump in my throat. “I never thought...I’d see you again. I hoped that I would.”

  “Hoping never really got us anywhere, did it?”

  I shook my head. Growing up as we did, we learned real quick to get on a first-name basis with reality. Things like hope and aspirations had seemed like dreams and fantasies.

  Rider’s fingers kept moving along the knot and before I knew it, he’d worked the bun loose. My hair fell past my shoulders, a tangled mess of waves. “I like it down,” he said, and the hollows of his cheeks pinked as he dropped his hand. His fingers grazed my upper arm. “Though I kind of miss the orange. Made it easy to pick you out in a crowd.”

  “Thanks.”

  He laughed. “Ah, I’m lying. Still easy to pick you out. A mile away,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

  “Because I’m shorter...than everyone in a crowd,” I replied drily.

  His gaze flickered over my face in that strange, concentrated way. “No, not that at all.” Casting his gaze to my hands, his brows lowered. “So how have your first three days at school been?”

  Only three days? Felt longer than that. I raised a shoulder. “Okay.”

  “That’s not very convincing.”

  Lifting my gaze to his, I suddenly thought of Paige. I pulled away, putting space between us. How had I forgotten about her? I’d been caught off guard by Rider’s sudden appearance and the condition he’d been in, but that wasn’t a good enough excuse.

  I glanced over at him, a hundred questions rising to the surface. One of them being why he’d come to me instead of Paige in the first place.

  My heart started pounding. Part of me didn’t want to bring her up, because if he didn’t, then I could still... What? What could I still do? Even if we never talked about Paige, it didn’t change reality. And his having a girlfriend didn’t change what we were. Which was friends.

  I drew in a deep breath. “You...you have a...girlfriend, right?”

  “What?” Rider stared at me a moment and then he shook his head. “That kind of came out of nowhere.”

  True. I didn’t let that deter me. “It’s...it’s the girl in our speech class.”

  Rider stared at me a moment. “You’re talking about Paige. Yeah, we’ve been seeing each other.”

  Folding my hands in my lap, I smiled nervously. “That’s...that’s good.”

  He looked away, lips pursed. “We’ve known each other for a while. She’s known Hector since elementary school, so she’s always been around, you know?”

  I really didn’t know, but I could imagine.

  “And she’s pretty cool. Not uptight,” he said, and I wondered if he thought I was uptight. “I can...just chill with her, not