Lying Out Loud

Chapter 17

Well, this was some serious déjà vu.

“Sheila, come on,” I begged. “I told you. My car broke down. I had to wait for the tow truck.”

“You could have called,” she said.

“I tried,” I said. “No one answered.”

“Why didn’t you try again?”

Fair question.

“We had to call someone else to cover your shift,” she said. “The day after Christmas is always busy, and you weren’t here.”

“I told you. My car —”

“You always have an excuse,” she said.

To be fair, the excuses about Gert had been true. I’d had more problems with her lately than usual. I seriously needed a new car. But that required money. Which required a job. Which Gert was making it incredibly hard to hold on to.

Well, Gert, and my hatred of the holidays.

“Look,” Sheila said as she rearranged a few picture books that had been tossed around by some kids a few minutes before. I was following her around the store like a pathetic, lost dog. “You were seasonal anyway. We were probably going to be laying you off in two weeks as it is.”

But that was two weeks’ worth of pay that I needed. Especially now that I owed Wesley for Gert’s repairs.

I just stood there, staring at her.

“Sorry, Sonny,” she said. “But you’re fired.”

I stormed out of the bookstore, pissed at Sheila and at Gert and at myself. I thought of calling Wesley, asking him to turn back around and come pick me up. But I took a deep breath and decided to be more proactive.

I was already at the mall, so I might as well start my job hunt right away.

I sighed as I headed toward the food court, remembering the day Amy and I had come here when I was first applying for new jobs.

Some days I felt like a rat on a wheel, running and running and running and never getting anywhere.

“Sonny?”

I was walking out of Daphne’s, a vintage-inspired clothing store, after dropping off my application. Ryder was standing a few yards away, a shopping bag in his hand and his green utility jacket slung casually over his shoulder. He looked like a model. Like a picture any one of these stores would have loved to have advertising their brand.

“Hey, Ryder,” I said.

“What’re you doing here?”

We said it in unison, then laughed together.

“If I was seven, I would yell jinx right now.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Such a shame we’re too old for — JINX! You owe me a soda.”

Ryder rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Of course. I take these things very seriously. I prefer orange soda, by the way. Though I will also accept grape. No root beer, though. Disgusting.”

“Noted.” He glanced down at the stack of applications still tucked beneath my arm. “So, back to my question. What are you doing here?”

“Seeking employment.”

“I thought you worked at the bookstore?”

“No longer.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“What about you? What brings you to the mall on this fine winter’s day?”

“Something just as fun.” He lifted up the shopping bags. “Returning unwanted gifts.”

“Unwanted gifts? That’s an oxymoron, Ryder.”

“You’ve never been honored with a present from my grandmother, then.”

“That bad?”

“She gave me suspenders once.”

“Well, I mean, those are making a comeback. Especially among hipsters like yourself.”

“I’m not a hipster,” he said. “And do I look like someone who wears suspenders?”

“I mean, maybe …”

“Bright purple ones?”

I giggled, trying to picture it. Ryder in his expensive blue jeans, red Goats Vote for Melons T-shirt, and bright purple suspenders. “No, not really. Though I would pay money to see it.”

“Yes, well, pay all you like. It’s not going to happen.” He sighed. “Luckily, I’ve been able to trade things in for items I would wear, so at least it wasn’t a waste of a nice gesture.”

Without saying anything, without planning it, we started walking. Together. Our shoulders nearly touching as we wove our way past families with strollers and seniors in tracksuits.

“So did Amy get you that pony?” he asked after we’d passed a few stores.

“Sadly, no. I’m very disappointed. We’re no longer on speaking terms because of it.”

“That’s a shame. You know she …”

I looked at him as he trailed off. My heart was already beginning to sink. Back to Amy. Barely a minute together and that’s what he wanted to talk about. I hadn’t even been texting him from her phone lately. At least, not much. Just a couple of times, once or twice, when the guest room felt especially lonely. But I’d definitely slowed down since the start of Christmas break. Especially after he brought her that gift. As far as he knew, Amy had never even thanked him for it. Yet he still wanted to talk about her.

He shook his head. “You know what? Never mind.”

Or maybe he didn’t.

“So where else do you have to drop these off?” Ryder asked, taking the applications from me and thumbing through them.

After Sheila fired me, I’d gone around the mall, picking up applications, then filled them out in the food court. Now I was just dropping them off.

“The candy shop. The smoothie place. And that sporting goods store on the other side of the building. You know, that one where all the middle-aged men in camo stand around comparing fishing poles for hours?”

Ryder grimaced. “You’re going to put an application in there?”

“My car broke down on the way here, and I have to pay for the repairs, so I can’t afford to be picky.” I took the applications back from him.

“Your car broke down on the way here?”

“Yeah. I had to call a tow truck. Thankfully, Amy’s brother was able to pick me up, so I wasn’t stranded long.” I slowed as we neared the candy store, and Ryder followed me in. He was quiet as I handed my application to the lady behind the counter, who wasted no time informing me that they weren’t hiring right now, but that they’d keep my application on file.

“Listen,” Ryder said as we were leaving the shop. “I was about to leave here, but I’d be glad to give you a ride home if you need one.”

“That would actually be great,” I said, surprised. “If you don’t mind. It would save my friends another trip out here.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

How had I ever thought this guy was a jerk?

I dropped off my last few applications, including, yes, one in the sporting goods store. After I handed it to the man at the counter, I sent a text to Wesley, letting him know I had found another ride home. Then I went in search for Ryder, who had wandered off somewhere in the few seconds I wasn’t looking. I found him looking at bright orange hunting jackets and vests.

“Thinking of changing your wardrobe?” I asked.

“Marveling at the fact that my grandmother hasn’t gotten me one of these yet,” he said.

“A blaze-orange vest would go splendidly with those purple suspenders.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He turned to me with a smile. “Are you ready to go?”

“Not until you try one of those on.”

“Ha-ha. You’re hilarious.”

“I’m serious,” I said. “If you do it, you’ll no longer owe me a soda.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Ryder,” I said, punching his arm playfully. “Be a little spontaneous for once.”

He hesitated, but I must’ve been persuasive because he sighed, resigned, and put down his shopping bags. “Give me your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t want you taking pictures to use as blackmail, that’s why.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. But I don’t have a phone, remember?”

“You didn’t before, but you do now. I saw you using it a second ago. Hand it over.”

I sighed and passed him my new cell phone. He looked at it and chuckled. “Your name is on the case and everything. Worried you’ll forget who it belongs to?”

“Just shut up and put on the jacket.”

He shoved my phone into his pocket and turned to the rack of orange attire. After a second, he selected a coat. He tossed me his jacket, then slid the bulky orange monstrosity onto his arms.

It was impossible not to laugh.

“Please can I have my phone back?” I choked through the giggles.

“Absolutely not.”

“You just look … so different.” And he did. He didn’t look bad — hell, if all hunters looked like this, I’d be up in a deer stand in a heartbeat. But he didn’t look like Ryder at all. It was funny how one item of clothing could completely change a person.

“Looks great on you, kid,” one of the employees said as he walked past us. “You’re ready for deer season now!”

Embarrassment flooded his face. I doubted he’d ever been hunting in his life.

“He’s also in the market for a new fishing pole!” I called to the employee.

Ryder shoved the jacket off his shoulders, hung it back up, picked up his bags, and grabbed my hand, pulling me to the exit as I laughed, leaving the store employee looking very bewildered.

His hand was warm against mine, and it sent a spike of adrenaline through me.

“Happy now?” Ryder asked when we were away from the store, but I could tell he was holding back a laugh, too.

“Oh, very,” I told him. “Extremely, even.”

“Good. Then let’s get out of here before you try to make me play dress-up anywhere else.”

We stood there for a minute, our hands still locked. I waited for him to let go and hoped that he wouldn’t all at the same time. But, after a moment that lasted an instant too long, he did. And maybe it was my imagination, but I think he was just as disappointed to lose that contact as I was.

I traded his jacket for my cell phone and we headed outside, to his car. It wasn’t late, but it was already dark out. We walked close together, our heads ducked against a wind that had picked up in the hours since Gert had broken down. And as I climbed into the front seat of his car, shivering, I realized that the last time we’d been in a car together was in October, on another day when Gert had given me trouble and I’d been fired.

The day all of this had started, really.

We’d come a long way since that day, but not nearly as far as I’d hoped.

“It’ll warm up in a second,” Ryder said after he started the car. The engine had a purr so quiet I barely noticed it.

“So. This is the Rydermobile, eh?” I looked around at the leather interior. It was spotless. Other than the shopping bags he’d just tossed into the backseat, there was really nothing in it. No discarded water bottles or forgotten fast-food wrappers. I knew Gert was a mess, but jeez. This car was almost scary clean.

As if he’d read my mind, Ryder said, “Yeah. My mom’s always on me to keep it clean. She’s a little anal about stuff like that. Probably because my dad was such a slob.” The disdain in his voice was undeniable. “But there are worse things than a clean car, so I don’t complain.”

Though somehow, I knew he would have before the truth about his father came out. He would have thought his mother was a tyrant back then. Back before he decided she was a saint.

I wasn’t going to bring that up, though. Instead, I decided to bring up my own dysfunctional family unit.

“Hey. I’ve been meaning to tell you …” We were pulling out of the parking lot now, smoothly turning onto the highway that would lead us back into Hamilton. “I, um … I wrote to my dad.”

He glanced at me before turning back to the road. “You did?”

“Yeah. After we talked at the park that day. What you said, about letting people surprise you … Well, anyway, I wrote to him. I didn’t want to say anything unless something good out of it. I didn’t want to be embarrassed —”

“You wouldn’t need to be embarrassed,” he said. “If he didn’t write or call you back, he’s the one who should be embarrassed.”

“Well, actually, he did. Yesterday. He called me.”

“Really? That’s awesome, Sonny.”

“It was just a short call. Who knows what kind of guy he really is. You can’t tell from a call, but … but it’s the first time I’ve talked to him in years, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling naked. That was too much. Too honest. Too close.

But then Ryder’s hand was on my arm, and everything inside me relaxed a little. He gently tugged my arm free and his fingers slid down to circle my wrist, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. Then he placed his palm against mine and held my hand again, the way he had in the mall, only this time his fingers laced with mine.

“I’m glad you wrote to him,” he said, his eyes never leaving the road.

“Yeah. Me, too…. And I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for you. So, thanks.”

We were silent for a minute, and I was keenly aware of his hand, still wrapped around mine. I was giddy and nervous and eventually, I had to say something.

“Anyway … bad gifts aside, how were your holidays?”

“Fine,” he said. “Quiet. Mom hasn’t really felt like doing much celebrating. Instead, she’s been much more concerned with me spending the break filling out college applications.”

I grimaced. “Ugh. I don’t even want to think about that.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “My mom went to Stanford and my dad is a Princeton alum, and they expect me to attend a top school as well. At my old school, I pretty much would’ve been a shoo-in wherever I wanted to go. But now that we’ve moved here, I’m a little worried about my chances.” He paused, then quickly added, “That’s not me complaining about Hamilton, by the way. At least, not intentionally.”

“No,” I said. “I know. And it makes sense. Hamilton’s not exactly a prep school.”

“It’s grown on me, though.” He cleared his throat. “So why are you stressed about college?”

“Because I don’t think I can go.”

It was the first time I’d said it out loud, and doing so made it feel so much more real and scary. I’d been ignoring the issue — or trying to — for months, but now, with only a semester left in my senior year, I was running out of places to hide.

“But you’re in AP classes,” he said. “That seems like a lot of stress for someone who isn’t college-bound.”

“I know,” I agreed. “It’s not that I don’t want to go. But, I mean, how could I afford it?”

“Loans?”

“I don’t even live with my parents, and I just lost my shitty part-time job. Who in their right mind would give me a loan?”

“So what are you going to do after graduation?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

Once again, I was scared I might have said too much. That he’d realize I was a girl from a Podunk town with no future. But, just like in the park a few weeks ago, he didn’t seem fazed by this. He didn’t even let go of my hand. In fact, he gave it a soft, reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I said. “You’re the first one I’ve admitted that to. I haven’t even told Amy. She still thinks we might be able to go to school together, and I haven’t been able to let her down yet.”

“I won’t say anything,” he said.

“Thank you.”

His hand stayed in mine as we drove through the darkness. And it was still there when we pulled into the Rushes’ driveway ten minutes later.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said.

He was still holding my hand.

“Thanks for the fun afternoon,” he said.

He was still holding my hand.

“So you had fun playing dress-up, then?”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

He was still holding my hand.

It may have been the dead of winter, but it felt like the hottest summer day in that car. Every nerve in my body was on end. Every muscle I possessed was tense. Ryder and I were in a dark car, holding hands, and he was looking at me. Really looking at me. Staring at my eyes.

At my lips.

He had some nice lips himself.

He was about to kiss me. I knew it. I started to lean toward him. My eyes started to slip shut. And then —

He pulled his hand free, turned his head, and scooted away from me so fast that I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined everything that had come before.

“So … do you know if Amy has any plans for New Year’s?”

It was like he’d dropped a bucket of ice water over my head.

I was mortified.

And pissed.

I sat back in my seat and used my now empty hand to undo my seat belt. “Um … yeah. I think we already have plans. Sorry.” My voice was cold and brittle.

“Oh. Too bad.” He wasn’t looking at me. In fact, it looked like he was focusing very, very hard on the steering wheel.

“Right. Well, see you at school, Ryder.”

Before he could say another word — not that he would have — I got out of the car and hurried inside, slamming the door behind me.