Page 34 of The Color of Grace

He just shrugged. “’Cause it’s fun.”

I shrugged too. Well, okay, then. And finally, I looked about me.

Ryder’s room consisted of two levels. The main portion took up the bottom level. It contained his huge, king-sized bed, a giant entertainment center that held a forty-inch flat screen and the works in electronic gadgets. Then a full-size couch hogged one wall. After all that, he still had plenty of room to fit in dresser drawers and three doors, one that was open and led into his own private bathroom. The other two, I guessed, would lead into the rest of the house and the room-sized closet Mindy had spoken of earlier. A ladder ascended to the upper second level, where a huge oak desk sat with a personal computer and printer and a filing cabinet. Three people hovered around the computer, laughing at something on the screen.

Another three people sat on the couch, discussing the game. Todd paused at the entertainment system and started shuffling through DVD-looking cases, while Ryder lay stretched out on his bed, his back to the headboard and legs sticking out across the mattress with his girlfriend planted on his lap, facing him as she tried to extract out his tonsils. With her tongue.

I was pretty much ready to go home.

Loitering by the window, I hunched inside my Dad’s oversized coat, debating how easy it would be to push up the window and escape without anyone noticing and stirring up a bunch of questions I didn’t want to answer.

I wasn’t so sure if I really wanted to hang with this crowd. Okay, honestly, I was absolutely certain I did not want to hang with them. They seemed superficial. I liked Mindy, and Todd was nice to me, but...

“Grace!” Mindy called, noticing me for the first time. She smiled and waved. “Come sit by me.” She patted the last available cushion on the couch next to her.

As I reluctantly left the window and moved toward her, I noticed Ryder from the corner of my eye grasping Kiera’s arms to physically break their kiss and set her away from him. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth as if he wanted to rub off the feel of her lips. Or maybe that’s how I wanted it to look. A petty and spiteful wish on my part, but I didn’t really care.

Behind me, the window opened again. I glanced back to see two more guys joining the party.

One boy waved a six-pack of beer over his head. “Anyone thirsty?”

My stomach dropped into my knees. This was exactly what I’d feared most. If someone pulled out drugs next, I was going to be so out of there…and look like a total moron in the process.

I was out of my league.

But Ryder snapped, “Put that away!” He surged off the bed in order to corral the beer-waver back toward the window. “Don’t ever bring that crap into my house again. Do you know how dead I’d be if my parents saw alcohol in my bedroom?”

“Yo, man, sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Just…take it back to your car,” Ryder ordered, ushering his friend outside.

After the beer disappeared, I could breathe easier, but no way could I sit down now. My feet felt too antsy, wanti

ng to flee. I lingered next to the couch beside Mindy, not that she noticed my presence as her boyfriend put his arm around her and pulled her close for one of those long, why-in-the-world-are-you-doing-that-in-public kisses.

I began to hum “Amazing Grace” in my head, trying to mind my own business and not look like a dork in the process. Lifting my face, I glanced at the pictures on the wall. Poster-sized but framed with nice oak wood, they weren’t prints of what I’d guess a teenage boy would put on his wall. No wet, tanned models in skimpy bathing suits. No sports heroes. No movie actresses. Ryder put tasteful pictures on his wall. The Eiffel Tower at night lit up with lights. The San Francisco Bridge at sunrise, vivid red framework against vivid blue sky and sea. A looming skyscraper taken from a diagonal angle, rising from a nest of fog. The Hoover Dam. A Ferris wheel.

“So what do you think?” that spine-tingling voice said next to me.

I held my breath a moment before glancing over and looking up into Ryder’s beautiful green eyes.

He grinned before nodding his chin toward the Ferris wheel poster. “You can’t tell me that picture makes you feel sad and lonely.”

Chapter 11

Pink is love and purity. A pink carnation for a new baby or a pink rose for the beau you just discovered. Every time Ryder draws near, I turn pink. Why? Why can’t I forget that fresh blush of interest I felt when I first looked up and drowned in his perfect, pink smile?

* * * *

A little spot in my chest ached because Ryder had to go and remind me of our glove conversation. He thought I’d been analyzing the pictures on the wall and reading the meaning behind them. I liked that, yet it irritated me that I still found myself liking anything about him.

Instead of answering and being forced to admit I hadn’t been dissecting the picture—I’d been dissecting him—I cleared my throat and studied the Ferris wheel.

“You like photography?” I guessed. A strange warmth worked through me as I asked. Could it be possible I had the same passion as Ryder Yates?

But he shook his head and corrected, “Architecture.”

For some reason, his answer wasn’t disappointing at all. Surprising but definitely not disappointing. Architecture, like photography, was simply another form of creativity, which still gave us a small bond together.

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