Page 57 of The Tomorrows After You
Riotturnedtoward me and Ihada hard timelookinghim in the eye. Why did I feel like a pubescent teenageraskinga boy out for the first time? Something I didn’t recognizeflashedbehind Riot’s eyes, something soft andamusedand happy but then uncomfortable.
“Oh, um... I—”heshifted, and I could tell hewasoff balance.“I kind ofpromisedKatieI’dgive her a ride tomorrow.” The words rushed from his lips like a confession.
A stale sensation spread somewhere between my ribs. I should have known. But it still hurt. Probably because I was a grown-ass adult with nothing but a fucking bicycle who was bumming rides off her convict landlord who’d let her stay out of pity.
Iwaveddismissively.“Oh, of course, no worries.”Iturnedaway to move toward the passenger door, eager to get out of his line of sight.
Riot took a step forward. “I’m sorry; she asked a while back. I don’t mind dropping you off early. Or I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you rode with us.”
I pressed my lips together, failing to dodge his words, each one hitting me harder than the last. I suppressed a laugh and offered a tight-lipped smile.
“It’s okay, Riot. Really.”Therewassomething in his eyes that almostlookedlike regret or guilt and the injury justkeptpilingon top of the insult. Igavehim my best genuine smile andpulledthe car door open.
Silencehungin the truck like stale air. Itwasaloadedsilence, one teeming with quiet humiliation. It shouldn’t bother me that Riotwastaking Katie to the carnival.I’dheardher little three-year plan. Still, theimage of her sitting in the very seat Isatin nowchurnedmy stomach andmademy throat feel a little hollow. Ipickeda piece of fabric on the seat.
I could feel Riot’s gaze on me. His jawworkedup and down, at a loss for an appropriate topic of conversation. Unwilling to share my disappointment, Ikeptmy gaze out the window. He didn’t need to feel guilty. Katiewasa nice girl. Iwasglad that hehadher.
Glad. That was it.
When we got back to his place, Riot broke the steely silence at the door. “Hey, thanks for… tagging along,” he said with too much phony enthusiasm. “It was a big help. It would have taken me way longer without you… So, thank you,” he finished, and his expression faltered.
I suppressed another dismal laugh.Tagging along. God, I felt pathetic. I was nothing more than the annoying little sister who tagged along, inserting herself where she wasn’t needed or desired.
I wanted to slap myself across the face.You are Nicolette fucking Parker. You have brought down billion-dollar companies and exposed corrupt government officials and you’re feeling sorry for yourself because a hot convict asked your arch-nemesis to dance.I scoffed at myself. I took a breath, resigned to pushing it far from my mind. I had to focus on my future and that meant coming clean with Melody about my failure to write anything usable.
As Imademy way through the main room toward the lanai, Riot didn’t close himself in his bedroom and slam the door like usual. Instead, hedroppedhis keys on the table andmadehis way to the kitchen, idlyleafingthrough the mail thathadbeensitting on the counter since Iarrived.
I walked through the main room to the sliding door to my lanai.
“Want one?” Riot’s voice startled me. He stood with the refrigerator door open, holding a beer with a glint of hope in his eye. “There’s a boxing match I might stay up for. If you’re interested, I mean.” His eyes darted to the livingroom TV, which had remained notably dark since our eveningJeopardy!games came to a halt.
Again, my throat twisted. I wasn’t fooling myself; he didn’t want to hang out with me. He just felt guilty. Why he felt guilty was beyond me. The man owed me nothing. I looked at the beer in his hand for a beat and then into his eyes.
“No, thank you.I’mgoingtowrap up some work.”Ijerkedmy head in the direction of the lanai and although his expression didn’t change, he deflatedthe tiniestbit.
“Oh, okay,”his deep voicesoundedsofter, and Iwantedto press my ear against his chest to hear it resonate.“Good night, Nicolette.”
My stepsfalteredat the sound of my name and it did unwelcome things to my insides.
Be fucking cool, I scolded myself. I turned on my million-watt smile and nodded once. “Good night, Riot.”
I didn’t work on anything. Instead, I curled up in my bed and let the deep melancholy I’d been keeping at bay wash over me. I pictured Riot getting ready in the morning, brushing his teeth, styling his hair, picking an outfit, and then getting in his truck to go pick up a different girl for their date to the carnival. I pictured him winning her some obnoxious stuffed animal, his arm thrown around her shoulders.
WhywasI doing this to myself? I should get up. But just like the night after our first kiss, our first and probably only, Iallowedmyself to dwell in miserable self-pity for just abitlonger.
21
Riot
Ihated that look on her face. Why did that look on her face twist me up so much? Katie had asked me to take her to the Field Days carnival when I wasn’t paying attention and I kicked myself for ever saying yes. I considered telling Katie I’d meet her there, but it would be a bigger shithead move if she saw me pull up with Nicolette. But,fuck, if I didn’t hate that look of disappointment Icaughtin her eyes.
I also hated this TV. I never turned on the living room TV unless it was with Nicolette and Brennan. Now it felt empty, watching it alone. Still, if she changed her mind and came to join me, I wanted to be here.
But Nicolette Parker didn’t change her mind. She stayed holed up in that tiny screen room all night. The longer the night wore on, the more jittery I became. I tried drinking a beer. I tried making tea but the hollow way she said “Good night, Riot” echoed in my brain. My legs ached to walk to her room. My hands ached to knock on her door. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her she was the only woman I’d thought about since the day she arrived.
Iwantedto pull her outside. Iwantedto build a fire and sit next to her, tell her everything Iwasthinkingand notthinking. Iwantedto kiss her. Pin her to thegroundnext to the fire. Iwantedto fuck her all night under the stars and fall asleep to the sound of cicadas in the wind. Iwantedto wake up with her in my arms,breathingin the soft scent of her hair.
But I wouldn’t do any of those things.
