Page 26 of Come Break My Heart Again

Ryder is sitting on the trunk, talking to a guy who has his back turned to me. Based on what I can see of the guy’s profile, I don’t recognize him. Ryder’s left leg is blocking the insignia, but the car he’s perched on appears to be brand-new. I’ve never seen Ryder hang out around Ones before, but maybe he’s branched out and made some new friends in my zip code this week.

He’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt, which is all I’ve seen him wear since his return to town. Plus a backward baseball cap. I watch as Ryder tugs it off and scrubs a palm across the top of his head before tugging the hat back down into place. He glances this way, like he’s attuned to my attention, and our eyes connect.

My stomach flips when he holds my stare. Over and over and over again, like I’m bouncing on a trampoline.

Ryder’s eyes drop to the striped skirt I’m wearing. Ifeelhis gaze trail down my bare legs, all the way to the white sneakers that are part of the uniform. I’m too far away to tell for sure, but I think one corner of his mouth curves up. One of those devastating not-really-a-smiles that makes my blood swim with forbidden heat.

I’d pay the contents of my trust fund to know what he’s thinking right now. The curiosity is so acute that it burns.

“Elle! Come on!”

My head jerks away from Ryder toward Keira. She’s leaning out the window of her car, which is parked two rows up, waving.

I hurry in that direction, trying to escape the flush crawling steadily across my skin.

Juliet has already claimed shotgun, so I crawl in the cramped back with the bags, tossing my legs over the pile of canvas and tipping my head back to enjoy the breeze as Keira joins the line of cars waiting to exit the parking lot.

Finally, I text Archer.

ELLE: Headed home to change, then to Maddie’s.

ELLE: See you there!

No response. I’m sure he’s having a shitty Friday night. This was the first game of the season. Everyone was hoping it wouldgo a lot better than it did. That things would finally turn around for the team.

Impulsively, I open a new message. The fact that I never deleted his number is not something I planned on letting Ryder know.

I’m mad at him. Hurt. Angry he strolled back into town with no explanation and a lackluster apology.

But beneath all that … I want to talk to him. I’m pissed off about that too. At myself and my lack of willpower.

ELLE: Enjoy the game?

He replies instantly, which doesn’t really surprise me. Ryder was never the type of guy to play games, which made his disappearing act all the weirder.

RYDER: Nope.

RYDER: You?

I stare at his name on the screen. I was too proud—too heartbroken—to continue texting him after the messages started to go unanswered. But there’s this warmth expanding in my chest, seeing the two new texts from him after all this time. I don’t think normal crushes survive two years of not seeing or talking to someone, but that’s the giddiness Ryder elicits in me. Then. Now.

ELLE: Not really.

I stare at the short exchange as Juliet and Keira sing along to a Taylor Swift song. His lack of awho is thismakes me think Ryder never deleted my number, and I’m not sure what that means. It doesn’t fit with taking off without warning and ceasing all contact. He’s avoided me since our conversation inthe parking lot. The only times I’ve seen him since were in our one shared class.

I shut my phone off and toss it on the piled bags, relaxing against the seat until Keira stops in front of my house.

“See you guys there,” I say, gathering up all my cheer stuff and grabbing my phone.

“You’re not going to do it tonight, are you?” Juliet asks I climb out of the car.

“Break up with Archer?”

She nods.

“No.” My phone feels heavier all of a sudden, the texts I just sent—answered and unanswered—weighing it down.

I’m dreading the conversation, and it must be obvious on my face because Juliet and Keira both aim sympathetic smiles at me.

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