Page 9 of Be Still My Racing Heart
“What happened? Did a freak storm come through and soak you to the bone? You’re sopping wet,” I say as I walk up to Ryder and Trevor, both of whom are drenched in sweat.
Trevor laughs. “No, although Ryder could use a long shower. He stinks.”
“You don’t exactly smell like roses, either,” Ryder retorts.
I pick up Trevor’s backpack off the bench and dangle it in front of him, reminding the kid that schoolwork is just as important as playing sports. Trevor will find any reason to procrastinate. “Do you have any homework?”
Trevor takes the bag and sets it right back down on the bench. “It’s all done. Ryder said that mental workouts are equally as important as physical ones and wouldn’t shoot hoops with me until my schoolwork was done. He even helped me with my Algebra, so I’m all good.” His phone dings with a text that diverts his attention. Once he checks it, he grabs his backpack and hefts it over his shoulder. “That’s my mom. She’s waiting out front, so I gotta bounce!”
I stand idly by as Trevor and Ryder fist-bump one another, and then Ryder whispers some final words before the kid takes off.
“What did you say to him?” I ask as Trevor’s form disappears into the building.
Ryder wipes away the last vestiges of sweat from his body. “I just reminded him to thank his mother for all she does since she works three jobs, and to give her a hug.”
“You seem to be getting the hang of this mentoring thing pretty quickly. I thought you weren’t good with kids,” I say, impressed with how quickly he and Trevor have bonded. “I’ve heard that getting him to do homework is usually quite the battle. He’d rather be outside than doing math.”
He shakes his head. “It was bribery, pure and simple—tit for tat. I remember what it was like to be his age, and as much as I loathed doing homework, I couldn’t play sports unless I had good grades.”
“Well, it worked, and that’s what matters. What got you into playing basketball? I thought you were….”
“Stealing cars in my spare time?” he asks, but not with any malice or hint of resentment for my assumption.
“If I’m being honest, that’s precisely what I was thinking.”
Ryder walks toward the main building to escape the blaring sun. “You wouldn’t be the first to do so, and I doubt you’ll be the last. I spent many of my nights doing just that, but after school, I played sports and studied at the library for as long as I could to avoid being at home. My dad couldn’t drag me into his shady dealings if I wasn’t around.”
Sensing that this is a topic that might be sensitive to Ryder, I decide to drop it and change the subject. “Is the invitation for dinner still on the table?”
The surprise on his face is warranted since I’m equally surprised by my eagerness to spend more time with him. I had no plans to get involved with Ryder, but he fascinates me, and I haven’t stopped thinking about him for the past two days. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve already seen a side of him that the media ignores. Oh, he has an arrogant streak, but underneath is a man who just wants to be accepted for who he is, not what his family is known for. If anyone can relate to that, it’s me.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Blake. I shouldn’t have asked you to dinner.”
I take a step back in shock. “Why? Is it because my brother forbade us from spending time together? Because he does not get to dictate who I can and cannot be around,” I huff. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“My father,” he replies, his voice devoid of emotion. “Teague may not be able to dictate your actions, but his words have power over mine. My father gets out of prison in less than six months, and if he sees us together, you could become a target for retribution. Your brother ”
I open the door before Ryder and pause just inside the building. I spin around and face him, more determined than ever to get to know this man and find out what makes him tick. “That gives you six months to figure out how you are going to live your life, but all I’m asking for is an hour. I’d like you to come to dinner with my family.”
A tiny glint of mischief flashes in his eyes, and if I had blinked, I would have missed it. “I haven’t taken you on a proper date, yet you’re already inviting me to meet the family?”
My eyes roll in my head involuntarily. “It’s not a date, Ryder. You wanted to discuss Play It Forward, and my father will want an update on how your first day went. I’m not inclined to talk about you behind your back, and you have the right to answer any questions he may have for you. You don’t have to come, but I thought you might want to.”
He inhales deeply and then scrunches his nose. “Do I have time to stop by my place and take a shower? My place is less than five minutes from here.” He takes a quick sniff of his underarms to verify the offensive smell is wafting from his body. “If I were any riper, you could make banana bread out of me.”
I chuckle. “I live ten miles north of Shuckley, and it would be out of my way to go home since Dad lives west near Austin. Is it okay if I ride with you and you drop me off back here on your way home?”
He gestures for me to lead the way. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
The inside of a home often reflects a person’s personality, and I’m eager to gain some insight into who Ryder Stone is. Does he have pretentious art on the walls, family photos, or are they bare? What colors are they painted? Is his furniture designed for aesthetics or comfort? Is his home clean or messy? I have so many questions, and there’s only one way to get answers. “There’s no point in taking two cars if we’re going to the same place. Thank you.”
A few minutes later, the dihedral doors of the blue McLaren 750S Spider shift and slide upward, inviting me inside. It never gets old watching the car open like a spaceship, and I always imagine dry ice billowing smoke like the 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 fromBack to the Futureafter a time jump.
I glide my hands over the racing seats as Ryder gets in on the driver’s side and puts on a pair of aviators. “You look like Tom Cruise inDays of Thunder.”
Ryder tilts his head toward me and gives me a smile that makes my heart pitter-patter and thump against my ribcage. “Except I’m eight inches taller.” He starts the engine as the doors close, trapping me inside. “Are you ready to see my humble abode?”
I press the button to roll down the window and hang my head out the window. “Yes, because the sooner you get that shower, the better.”
