Page 118 of Come Break My Heart Again

Maddie leans closer. Her breath smells like sniffing straight tequila. “So, are you, like,datingRyder James?”

My “Yes” is immediate.

I haven’t forgotten about the study.

Maddie’s not asking because she wants a wingwoman, like Juliet was. She’s asking because she wants Ryder.

“Wow.” Maddie twirls her hair around one finger. “Did not see that one coming. Is he, like, friendly with you? Because he was kind of a dick when I was on his lap.”

“I hate it when strangers sit on my lap too,” I say, then walk off toward the living room.

Was that uncalled for? Probably.

Satisfying? Also yes.

I feel possessive toward Ryder in a way I’ve never experienced with another guy. Claiming him is a thrill, not just because other girls want him. BecauseIwant him. My whole life, most things have come easily. I haven’t had to struggle or fight for much.

I’d fight for Ryder. Fight hard.

Once I’m in the living room, I chat with Kinsley and a few other cheerleaders. Juliet appears and insists we perform the choreography to a pop song we made up a dance to sophomore year. I drain the rest of my seltzer after the exertion, then decide to use the bathroom. Knowing the lines downstairs will be ridiculous, I walk into the hallway.

“Hey. Ryder’s girl.”

I turn. The dark-haired guy from Ryder’s trailer—Phoenix—is leaning against the wall, next to a door I know leads into a closet, his foot propped up against the plaster like he owns the place.

“Hi,” I reply cautiously.

“She speaks.” He grins, that same unpleasant one as before. “Does that mean you are his girl?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. This feels like a test—one I don’t know the correct answer to. This is a very different dynamic than a drunk friend. This is Ryder’s world. Roughness I’ve never had any exposure to.

“Ask him.”

Phoenix is still smiling. “Tried that. James is hard to crack, like Fort Knox. You seem … friendlier.”

“I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow at my flat tone, then nods and reaches into his pocket. I stiffen as soon as the little packet of white is waved in front of me. “You one of those pretty rich girls who likes to forget how pretty and rich she is?”

Drugs. A little of Ryder’s evasiveness—his vague mention of favors—makes more sense. Phoenix is into drugs—and not weed or nicotine. Hard-core stuff.

“No, I’m not.”

“Suit yourself.” He stuffs the cocaine back into his pocket and straightens. “See you around, Elle.” He heads down the hallway.

I continue upstairs. The bathroom connected to Maddie’s locked bedroom is guaranteed to be empty.

I grab the key from under the vase, unlock the door, then replace the key before walking into Maddie’s bedroom.

Close the door behind me, not noticing the figure sitting on the edge of her mattress until it’s clicked shut.

“Hey.”

Archer doesn’t bother to look up from the cup he’s holding. “Hey.”

“Sorry to … interrupt,” I say. “I was looking for a bathroom. Knew the one in here would be empty.”

“Yeah, it is,” he tells me, nodding toward the door I know leads to the en suite.

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