Page 88 of Lost Boy
I groan internally, not liking hearing that about the boy I’ve fallen for.
“Not the country club,” I whine.
“I want Fallon to try the she-crab soup! It’s not about you.”
“I thought you missed me and wanted to hang out,” I counter.
“I do. But what I really meant was I want you to take us to the country club so I can eat she-crab soup with Fallon. They only have it on Sundays. You know that.” Sofie pulls out all the stops, pouting and flashing eyes that match mine back at me.
I can’t say no to her. Even though I hate the smell of seafood.
Looks like we’re going to Acadia Lake Country Club today.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
FALLON
After we dropped our stuff at my place, we took quick showers before leaving for Ryder’s house. Luckily Joel bought me some dark gray slacks and black dress shirts in case I needed to look presentable outside of school. I’m not sure what dress code a fancy-ass country club enforces, though.
“Do I need a tie? Blazer? I didn’t bring any.” I’m stalling, relaxing on Ryder’s giant bean bag. I don’t give a shit about ties or blazers. If they don’t let me in because of my outfit, fuck them. No, I’m just trying to avoid the inevitable conversation about what happened at the lake.
I could hide my cheek from Joel and Al with my hair, but I’ll be sporting a small bruise for a little while, courtesy of Dustin. But I don’t want to tell Ryder. He needs to focus on basketball. On the championship. On hisdream. Not on me. I’m not important.
“Talk to me, Blue. I want to know what they did to you. Everything. I need to know. I hate not knowing. It’s worse wondering what you went through when I wasn’t there to stop it. It fucking kills me. So please, Fal. Tell me, no matter how much I don’t want to hear it.”
I blink to break the hypnotic pull of his stare. My chest squeezes tight. The weak, needy part of me thrives on his attention and care.
With a heavy sigh, I explain what happened. How they pulled me from sleep, disoriented and sluggish, tied my hands, put a bag over my head, and slapped me around. All to sabotage the big game. To get Ryder to miss the trust test, thus failing and not being allowed to play in the state championship game.
It’s whatever, though. They didn’t succeed. Not even close.
“I’m not a violent person, and I’ve never fantasized about murdering someone before, but holy fuck! I’m going to kill Dustin. That’s it. That’s all that’s left to do. No other options. He needs to die.”
“Stop. Ry. Come here.” He needs to calm down. He can’t get worked up because it’s exactly what they want.
He stops pacing and plops down next to me, making me roll into him. I brace my hand on his chest, peering at him.
“Don’t play into it, Ryder. Don’t let them win. Just beat them on the court.” That’s all he needs to do.
“You’re right.” He rubs a thumb under my eye, right over where I know the mark is. “Their plan was weak anyway. Because apparently, my boyfriend is a hot little Houdini, escaping in thirty seconds flat. My sexy fucking magician. Actually. . .” Ryder trails off, and his eyes glimmer with mischief.
“My broody little magician,” he says, grinning wide, showing me all his teeth. His beautifully straight, perfect, gorgeously white teeth.
“Stop.”
“My broody—”
I cut him off and roll on top, pinning his arms above his head. But only because he lets me. He smiles even bigger, if that’s possible. I think it might be for Ryder Cruz.
He likes it when I’m on top, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take control. He slips out of my grasp, cradling my face and leaning up to kiss me, nibbling on my lip ring like always.
“I’m going to fuck you on this bean bag one day soon. For now, I wanna take my time. You’ve been through hell this weekend, Blue. But you’re so fucking strong. I’m ’bout to reward you, okay?”
Lost for words, all I can do is nod.
“Arms up.” His voice is a low, sensual rasp.
I listen on instinct, wincing when my shoulder stretches uncomfortably. It’s sore as shit, and Ryder doesn’t miss a beat.
