Me: Yes. Do you have your car with you today?
Despite my father owning a car dealership, I don’t have a car. And I probably won’t until I’m old enough to buy one for myself. Noah and Charles both have a set of wheels, but from a very young age, I realized I didn’t get the same privileges they got.
Ryan: Yup. Meet me in the student parking lot in 5.
Locking my phone, I shove it into my pants pocket and sling my backpack over my shoulder. Getting to meet up with Ryan feels similar to the ice cream cone you get after you get a shot when you’re a kid. You know getting poked will suck. It’ll hurt and you dread it, but knowing what comes after gives you that little bit of hope you need to push through the pain.
Truthfully, I don’t understand why he’s even my friend. He could be friends with anybody. He’s one of our best players on the football team and plays better than most of the seniors. Everyone flocks to him. He’s got the looks, the brains, the talents, and he’s even funny. Yet he chooses to hang out with me all the time. I don’t get it.
When he first moved to town, I understood, with him being the new guy. But when that wore off, I figured our friendship would, too. It never did, and I think I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since.
In the parking lot, I spot him before he notices me. I can’t help but run my gaze over him, admiring him. His light brown hair is buzzed short all around—a haircut that on me would make me look like a thumb, but it does nothing but accentuate all the sharp lines on his face. A cigarette hangs from his fingers. I watch as he brings it up to his full lips, taking a drag. When I first met him, he bitched about his dad’s smoking. Swore he’d never take after him. Granted, he only smokes when he drinks or when he’s pissed off. Given that it’s barely after noon, I’d assume he hasn’t been drinking, so he must be mad about something.
A cloud of smoke leaves his mouth, surrounding him, as he turns his head, gaze colliding with mine. Dropping the stick, he puts it out with his shoe before unlocking his 4Runner. I don’t know what sixteen-year-old needs a car that big, but money clearly isn’t an issue in the van der Meer household. He and his dad have matching ones, except where his is steel gray, Mr. van der Meer’s is all black.
He tips his chin at me, giving me a tight smile that looks more like a wince. “Get in. Fuck this place.”
Turning on the car, the heat blasts through the vents asAloneby I Prevail connects to the speakers through his phone. We buckle before he silently puts the car in reverse and backs out of the spot.
“What’s the matter?” I finally ask as we leave the parking lot.
With an exasperated sigh, he grunts out one word. “Lydia.”
His girlfriend.
He and Lydia have been going out since summer break. They’re the stereotypical high school couple; the jock and the cheerleader. It’s nauseating. She’s all wrong for him, with her stuck-up personality, the way that there’s not a single thought between her ears, and how she constantly blows him off. She doesn’t appreciate him.
“What now?” I grumble, watching the cars pass us by out the window.
I try to keep my distaste for his girlfriend to myself, but I’m pretty sure he knows how I feel about her. I’ve never been good at keeping my emotions off my face. My expression and body language say everything my mouth refuses to voice. I’ve always been that way.
“Mike showed me Danica’s private snap story from last night. After I left the bonfire, Lydia was all over Daryl.”
“All over him, how?”
“Sitting on his lap, fucking grinding on him, whispering into his ear.” The bite to his tone hardens as he continues. “I didn’t see her do anything more than that, but she also never called me when she got home, so I’m assuming she never made it home.”
“You think she went home with him?”
He laughs dryly. “Fuckin’ probably. I wouldn’t put it past him. He knows I fucking hate him, and the perfect way to get to me is through her.”
Part of me feels bad because the whole reason Ryan hates Daryl is because of me. Had we not been friends, they’d probably get along. They’re on the same team, after all.
“So, what? Did you two break up?”
He parks in front of his massive house, turning off the car. “Yup. Let’s get drunk.”
Sliding out of the passenger seat, I glance at him as he rounds the back of the car. “What about your parents?”
“Not home,” he grunts. “Dad’s at work, per fucking usual, and Mom’s out at some event with the golf wives.”
******
“Bo, fucking turn this up, man!”
Warning From My Demonsby SLAVES blares through the speakers throughout the room, Ryan’s head nodding to the beat from where he’s at on the opposite side of the couch from me. I can’t help but watch him. Eyes slid shut, lips glistening from the gulp of beer he just took, his muscular thighs spread as he lies back, letting the music float over him. My chest tightens, warmth pooling in my groin as I watch him run his tongue along his bottom lip.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss him…
