Ryan Hunter (20 page)

I did. But when I woke up again, I realized I’d hardly been knocked out long enough for my hair to dry after the shower. Rolling on my back, I started to stare at the ceiling…and stopped two hours later where there was a soft knock on my door.

My mom slipped her head in silently enough not to wake me if I was asleep. When she saw me wide-awake, she said softly, “Your dad and I are going to eat lunch in a minute. Don’t you want to come down?”

“I’m not hungry,” I told her, hoping she would get the hint and leave me alone.

But she came in anyway and sat down beside me then stroked a gentle hand through my hair. “What happened, darling? Was it about a girl?”

Closing my eyes, I let her caress me, struggling not to grimace for her sake. “Seriously, Mom, I don’t want to talk about it.” My throat ached when I spoke, and I pressed my lips together to stop them from trembling. Maybe I was going to tell her one day about last night. But not now, when I could hardly keep myself together.

Jezebel Hunter gave me one of her understanding nods. “I’m here when you need me.” Then she left my room on silent feet.

Moving my gaze back to the ceiling, I tried to figure out what I had done to screw it with Liza. I’d been careful, I’d been considerate,
I’d been waiting for ages. But maybe that was the whole mistake? Maybe she’d have realized how much she really means to me if I’d been upfront with her from the start. She wouldn’t think of me playing a stupid game with her now. And she wouldn’t have cast me out of her life.

I never want to see you again.

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, fighting to blink away a sudden gush of water in my eyes.

In the late afternoon, there was again a knock on my door, but this time it was Rachel marching in like she owned this room. She carried a plate on which sat a fat piece of cherry vanilla cream cake. Smiling, she slumped on the mattress and swayed the plate in front of my nose. “I brought the cake, you spill.”

She couldn’t have made it past my mother without catching the information that I was in a somewhat
down
mood today. Mom must have encouraged her to come up and find out what had happened.

“Rachel, go away. I don’t want to talk to you, or mom, or anybody else today.”

“So it’s true.” Her face scrunched up. “You’re love sick? Can only be that if you refuse cherry cake. And by the way, you look like shit. Who messed with your face?”

I clenched my teeth behind tight lips.
“Doesn’t matter. And now that you figured me out, Sherlock Holmes, I’d be happy if you could leave me alone.”

“No, you wouldn’t be happy. You’d just hang out in here all day and drown in self-pity.” She scooted farther up on the mattress
and placed the cake on my nightstand. “What the heck happened after you and Liza left last night? You looked totally into each other.”

And I totally thought we were. I heaved a sigh, wanting nothing but a little time alone. Was that really asking too much in a house half as big as the school building? I grunted. “Will you go away if I tell you?”

Rachel pursed her lips. “Mmm, maybe.”

I sat up, scooted back, leaning against the headboard, and folded my arms over my chest. “We kissed in her room, her best friend came in, who actually happens to be Tony Mitchell, and he told her some fucking shit about me just trying to get her in the sack.”

“You and Tony are friends. Why would he do that?”

“Because he realized he didn’t want to give her up to me.”

“And Liza believed what he said?” Eyes wider than a car’s headlights, Rachel gaped at me. But then her brows furrowed. “Well, of course, she would. That’s just what you’re known for.”

I cast
her a cynical smile. “Yeah, rub it in, sis.”

“What?
Name only one girl that you kissed or were out with because you were in love with her.”

We stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Then I said, “Liza.”

Searching my face like she didn’t know whether I was kidding or serious, she was silent for a minute. Finally she rolled her eyes. “Oh, the irony of it.” Taking off the claw that held her long hair up at the back of her head, she flung herself next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. “Little Ryan falls in love for the first time, and that’s when he gets payback for all the hearts he’d fucked with.”

It was strange to hear my sister swearing. I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes, but all I got to see was her crown. “Let Mom hear you talking like that, and she’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” I told her. In fact, my mother had done that with me when I was ten. It didn’t make me stop using those words, but I sure as hell never said them in front of her again.

Rachel only laughed. “So, what are you going to do about Liza?”

“What can I do? She told me she never wanted to see me again,” I muttered dryly.

“And…”

“And nothing.
Heck, she threw me out of her room. It’s over.” Before it even had begun. “I guess she’ll forgive Tony for whatever
he
screwed up and be happy with him for…forever.”

“She’s in love with him?”

“Always has been.”

“That’s bad. I was totally sure that she was head over heels for you last night.”

The sad thing was that for a few hours I had believed that, too. “Does it mean anything if a girl writes about you in her diary?” I mumbled.

“She mentioned you in there?”

“M-hm.”

“And she let you read it?” Rachel’s voice
rose half an octave as she turned her head to stare at my face.

“Not exactly.”

“You read it secretly?!”

“Could you stop shrieking at me?” I paused then continued with a mumble, “And yes, I did. Not much.
Just a few lines. She wrote that she liked how I smelled.”

Rachel sat up and looked at me like I had told her that Santa was gay. “Oh. My.
God.”

“What?”

“She’s totally in love with you.”

Was she? Well, she had a strange way of telling me so last night. “She’s in love with Mitchell,” I grumbled.

“A girl can love more than one guy.” Rachel waved a dismissive hand. “And if she noticed how you smell, it’s always the most powerful sign that you’re the right one for her. A girl can’t be with someone she can’t smell. That’s hormone–ically impossible.”

“
Hormonically?” I repeated with a dry chuckle.

“Yeah.
That’s how we tick. She loves your scent, she loves you.”

“Great.”

“It
is
great. Now where’s your phone?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to call her, apologize for whatever you messed up, and tell her you want to see her again. Duh.”

Yeah, right. I forgot that this was the most natural thing in the world…

After a moment, Rachel grimaced. “You’re not going to call her, right?”

“I don’t see a point in it. Liza was quite forthright last night.”

“Girls don’t always mean what they say,” she whined.

“You said I was the most annoying little brother one could ever have.”

“I meant that.”

I quirked my brows at her but didn’t reply. With a resigning sigh, my sister rose from the bed and crossed to the door, but before she left me to myself, she turned around once more and said, “Ryan, you’re my brother, and I love you. But you are an idiot. And if you don’t get over yourself and call that
nice
girl who seems to really like you for a reason that escapes me, you might be destroying something good. Keep the cake.” The door closed silently after her.

I did not call Liza that day.

From the moment I’d glimpsed a chance for us, I’d tried to do everything right with her. If she didn’t see that, it was her fault, not mine. And if she really liked me as Rachel said and wanted to talk things out, she should be the one calling, not me. Dammit!

That night, I fell in and out of sleep in thirty-minute intervals. And every time I woke up, the first thing I did was check my phone for new texts. The only messages that had come in were from Justin. He was concerned because I’d ignored his calls all day. Not bothering to answer him or to check my cell for texts any longer, I turned my phone off close to midnight. But I didn’t sleep any better after that.

Thursday was the first time in my life that I missed soccer training for a reason other than a broken ankle. I just couldn’t be arsed to look at Mitchell’s mug. Winter called me afterward and let me know that everyone got the story of a botched evening from Mitchell today. Only that Mitchell made me look like the ogre who hassled Liza. Alex wanted to know what had happened after Tony had left us alone. I didn’t care to give deets to anyone. Bad enough that Rachel had coaxed so much information out of me for a piece of cake that my mother had carried away in the morning, untouched.

“She’s not interested in me,” I told Alex and made clear I wasn’t going to say more on that matter.

When Justin called me only little later for the seventh time in two days, I finally answered his call, too. “Hey,” I said.

“Why do I have to fucking
hear from my little brother what happened to my best friend and not from
you
?”

Someone was pissed, all right. “Sorry, dude. I wasn’t in the mood for big conversations.”

In the little pause Justin made, he abandoned his anger completely and adopted a compassionate tone. “She rebuffed you?”

“Rebuffed?” I laughed bitterly. “She kicked me to hell.”

“Oh crap. How are you doing?”

“I’m a useless shit these days,” I confessed.

“I can hear that. Want me to come over and hang out?”

“No,” I drawled.

“Wanna go down to the arcade and play some foosball? Get your mind off the chick?”

“Nah, I don’t want to do anything really. I’ll just watch some
TV, maybe get a hearing loss from Nickleback.” Or stare at the ceiling for another night.

“Okay. Gimme a shout if you need anything, dude.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I rang off and tossed my phone onto the comforter.

Raking a hand through my hair, I dropped into my desk chair, spinning so that I could gaze out the window. That was all I did the entire week. It was
either the window, the blank wall, or the ceiling. And whichever currently was on the program, I always saw a heart-shaped face with pretty apple green eyes smiling back at me.

Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe I was about to destroy something really good and meaningful. But even if I got back on my feet to fight for Liza again, how could I ever compete against
angelic Tony
?

It was a message from Justin on Saturday that made me change my mind.

I JUST HEARD FROM NICK, WHO HEARD IT FROM ALEX WINTER, WHO HEARD IT FROM MITCHELL HIMSELF, THAT LIZA TURNED MITCHELL DOWN THIS MORNING.

Staring at this goddamn message for over thirty minutes, I wondered what Tony had tried with Liza and how the story managed to work a circuit. But what did I care as long as the outcome was the same? If Mitchell failed, maybe I had a chance after all…

With my thumb hovering over Liza’s name on the display, I battled my heart back into place. Calling her suddenly seemed like the right thing to do. Trying to get things straight between us. I’d do as Rachel had suggested and apologize. I’d make Liza understand that I wasn’t fooling around with her—but that I loved her.

I wiped my thumb over the call button and waited for the line to connect. It rang once, twice.
God, please let her answer.
Three times. Four. My hope turned into fear then frustration. Five. Six. The call went to voice mail. Fuck.

A small part of me hoped that this was not her evading my call on purpose but that she just didn’t have her phone with her right then and would answer later, when she got back. It was also that small part of me that made me
call her a couple more times that day. With the same result; only to reach her voice mail again.

Before I went to bed that night, I decided to give it one last try with a text message. PLEASE TALK TO ME.

Nothing came back…right away. But at three o’clock in the morning, my cell went off on vibration on my nightstand, ripping me out of a light sleep. A text had come in, and it was from Liza. My heart lurch to my throat as I opened it. Hopefully she had forgiven me. Heck, she must. A text in the middle of the night could only mean that one thing. Or could it? There were three words on the display. Words that stopped my heart for a couple of seconds and that made me want to break everything in my room.

GO TO HELL.

Chapter 13

ON TUESDAY, I went to soccer training in the afternoon. Everyone stared at me. And this wasn’t me being paranoid. They stared so blatantly that it hurt. Lacing my cleats gave me a moment where I could ignore them, but when it was time to set up teams, I faced a crowd that screamed for answers with their quizzical glares when their mumbling behind cupped hands got fast on my nerves.