9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

T he walk home was long and warm. Ryker had to stay after school for football practice. So, just as I walked to school alone, there I was, walking home alone, too. Football season was the worst. However, Ryker loved the sport, so I was happy for him, although sad for myself, of course.

I really need more friends.

It was quiet except for sudden breezes making leaves shake on the trees. When my home came into view, I smiled. I hadn't even realized that I had been running until I was in the house. The door closed behind me, and my shoulders and back leaned flush against its cold surface. I was still panting as I walked to the kitchen, and my stomach began to yell at me. I grabbed a snack and sat down at the table.

There was a note there for me:

Hey, Emma,

I will be late coming home today, waiting on a wedding shipment. Don't wait up for me. I can't wait to hear about your first day! Call me!

I folded the paper as my phone started buzzing in my pocket, still on vibrate from school.

"Emma! How did it go?" I heard Mary's excited voice over the phone.

"Really great, actually," I said with a smile, thinking of Shad.

"Really?"

"Well, I like the new neighbor across the street, and I met another girl named Ashlyn, I mean Ash."

"Look at you, you rock."

"I assure you, I so do not."

"It is true; I am not a liar, you know."

"Hey, I have a question to ask you."

"Shoot," she said, a little muffled into the phone. No doubt, she was holding it up with her shoulder as she tied a ribbon on a display or worked on an arrangement. Why she did not put me on speaker or put in her headphones, I had no idea.

"So I asked Ash to come swim tomorrow, and then it kind of turned into half my school."

"A pool party?" she screamed into the receiver. I couldn't understand the rest of what she said, as she started spouting things out so loud and quick that I thought that I might have officially lost my hearing in that ear.

"Yeah, I take it you're not mad?"

"Um, no! I'll go shopping tomorrow while you are at school! This is perfect, Emma, just what you need."

"I am not entirely sure about that, but—"

"It is good; have some fun, let go and relax. I will take care of all the details. I cannot wait to meet all of your friends!" I pulled the phone away from my ear, not wanting to be assaulted by another scream.

"Well, I have homework, so I better go."

"Yes, of course. You have a fun night. I will see you tomorrow."

I ended the call and shoved my phone into my back pocket. I then grabbed my backpack and rushed up the stairs to my room, shutting the door behind me. I lay down, sprawled out on my bed, hands behind my head. I thought about my day, about Shad.

Oh, man, he is seriously the most beautiful guy I have ever seen.

I turned to my window and then moved off my bed, walking toward the window. I stared out at his house. I felt my pulse quicken, just looking at it. I sighed; I was more confused than ever and finally shut the curtains.

Realizing I should start my homework, I grabbed my notebook from my backpack, the one that had been returned to me by Shad. I flipped to the first page, and there, underneath all my fancy cursive at the bottom of the page, scratched quickly, was a note:

Emma,

I was wondering if you could call me tonight. I need to ask you a question about a problem. Thank you.

Always,

Shad

He signed his name and left a number underneath it. My heart jumped. Oh, how much I hated phone calls. More than anything, small talk was the worst thing in the world.Why couldn't he have just asked me the question when he returned the notebook? Could I just text him? What did he need from me? He was the one who helped me in class. I huffed. No matter what I told myself, at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to call the number written in my notebook. I wanted to hear his voice and talk to him. But, why? I didn't know him. Deciding not to be a baby, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed his number. Closing my eyes, I placed it by my ear. It rang once before I heard his voice.

"Hey, Emma," his smooth voice said clearly through the phone.

I felt my face heat up. How did he know it was me? "Hey, Shad, so you needed to ask me a question about math?" I waited for him to answer.

"Uh–not exactly," he answered.

"Oh, I thought—"

"It isn't really about math, but a problem. Not a math problem."

"Oh, okay," I was confused.

"I hoped you would call."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course."

My face felt hot again. I tried very hard to focus on the conversation. I did not want to sound like an idiot, but it was harder than I thought.

"Well, here I am calling." I put my head on my pillow in annoyance. That was a good one, Emma.

" So, I was wondering if you wanted to come over and see my rose hobby, sometime," his voice came out rather slowly near the end as if he wanted me to linger on the last few words.

I smiled. "That doesn't have anything to do with a problem."

"Well, the problem is I don't see you enough," he chuckled. "I'm so glad you called me."

"Well, here I was, thinking that you needed my expert help with equations."

"No, uh, you are—"

"Yes, I know; I am not good at math."

"No, not that. I just mean—no, I finished my homework, so—what do you think?"

"About the homework? It is probably awful. I am putting it off."

He chuckled. "No, about coming to my house."

"What is a ‘rose hobby' exactly ?" I could not help but giggle a bit. At least, it wasn't loud.

"Okay, okay, yes—it is a little ridiculous. I am aware of that; however, I go a little crazy for the things I care about—the things I love ," he paused, and I heard him let out a breath. "You know my secret. I am a flower nerd." He laughed at himself for a moment.

I couldn't help but join him and laugh, too. "Flower nerd, huh?" I asked.

"Yes, probably the best way to put it. I do love roses—and many other plants, I might add. Apple trees are particular favorites of mine, and of my mother, too, actually."

"Nothing wrong with loving roses. I love them, too. I also like a good apple, now and again."

"Something in common, then."

"Yes."

"I thought you might be interested in seeing what my hobby is all about, seeing as you work in a flower shop and love roses."

"I am rather curious."

"I knew it," he said in a triumphant laugh that made my head spin. "That is wonderful, so you will come?"

"Yes. When is a good time?" I asked.

"If right now doesn't work, is Thursday after school okay?"

"Right now, I should really be doing my math homework."

"Right, and how is that going?"

"I should probably hang up, so I can find out—"

"Not so fast, you didn't answer if Thursday after school would work. I just figured I would throw tonight out there to give you some options. I hear that is the polite thing to do."

"Glad you have some manners."

"Yes, I am definitely a gentleman, so Thursday then?"

I thought about Thursday, and knew I didn't have any plans. When do you ever have plans, Emma? I shook that thought away. It was just mean; I had plans, sometimes–it is just rare. I stopped to think about what I should do. Okay, so should I go to his house? I mean, of course, I want to, but I do not actually know Shad, do I? He had given me that rose, which proved to me that he was nice, or I guess, possibly a flirt? No, he isn't a flirt. I saw girls introducing themselves to him all day today, didn't I? Not once, while I was staring at him—Yes, I was watching him every chance I got—and not once, did he flirt back. He was polite, but nothing more.

I thought back to lunch, when Ryker was rude to Shad. Shad had kept his cool and didn't get upset or fight or argue. That told me so much about him already. Plus, beyond all of that, I just wanted to know him, and I was just drawn to him; of course, I didn't know why, but maybe if I could just hug him— what would it be like to kiss his perfect face ? I pushed that thought away so I could focus. Maybe if I hugged him–got to know him better I could go back to being normal? But what was my normal anyway—zombie me? I did not want that.

"Yes, I mean, that should work. I do need to ask my aunt. She is working late tonight, so I can't ask her right now, or I would. She is probably going to get home really late. She has a shipment of bridal flowers coming in, and she usually works late when she is preparing for a wedding. So it would be too late to text tonight, but I could let you know tomorrow at school. It will probably be fine." I buried my head in the pillow again. Stupid stupid stupid! Way to make yourself ramble on for a half hour about nothing!

"Great. That sounds perfect. I could take you home after school."

"Great. That should work for now," I tried my hardest not to ramble again, biting my lip.

"Well, thank you for calling me tonight, Emma. If you don't mind, I am going to save your number in my contacts."

I felt the recent regular warmth flush over my face yet again. Was he seriously asking to save my number? Why wouldn't he just do it? Him asking, I had to admit, made it feel a little more personal, and I liked it. He was different–but in a good way.

"Of course, no problem."

"It was wonderful talking with you. See you tomorrow at school. Have a great evening, Emma. I am also looking forward to your pool party tomorrow." He wasn't an average sixteen year old boy, speaking to me like that. I pictured him without a shirt on, and I bit my lip. What did he look like shirtless? I tried to focus on the conversation and not on whether or not he had defined abs, which I decided that he did, indeed, have.

"Oh—yeah, you, too! Goodnight," I rushed my words out, waiting for him to hang up. Once he did, I fell on my bed face first, kicking my feet and punching the pillow. I let out a scream into the bed and flipped myself around. I felt like an idiot, and I was an idiot—but an idiot who was going to hang out with Shad the next day at the pool party and then again that Thursday. I giggled and looked up at my ceiling. I felt so light, like I was walking on air. I was happy, and I loved every moment of that feeling. Was it possible that I could really heal? Could I really have a happy life even with such a tragedy in my past?

Yes.

I lay there contemplating our conversation on the phone, looking at the note there in my notebook in Shad's handwriting—which I had decided was masculine, beautiful, and neat—all at the same time. But before I could draw hearts all over the page and write "Emma hearts Shad," I was interrupted by a sound at my window. I sat up and heard it again; it sounded like a little tap. I pulled back the curtain and opened the glass. I looked down, and there, Ryker stood, waving up at me.

"You know, I do have a phone, right? You could just text me. What is wrong with everyone today?"

"I like to practice my throw," he offered with a laugh. "Come down," he called. I nodded and closed my window. I walked down the hall and down the stairs. Just as I was about to open the front door, I stopped, and out of habit, was about to call to my parents in the kitchen that I was going outside with Ryker—when I realized that my parents were gone. I stood there, looking at the dark kitchen for a moment, proud of myself for not crying. I realized that I was feeling okay—okay about life, the way I must have felt when they were alive. No, not exactly as I had been. I was better; I was acting like a real person, a person with feelings. It was hard to remember, exactly, how I was before their deaths, but it was clear to me that I wasn't the same person anymore. Was I happy before? Did I smile and get excited about life? No, I didn't . I recalled a few memories and some of the times spent with Ryker and my dad under the stars, and other moments with my mother that seemed happy.

There must be so much missing. There has to be more, right? Even with Shad making things clearer and easier to see, my life before my parents' passing was empty. Still, I could not help but feel more complete, more whole when I was with Shad. When I was with him, he made me feel like I wasn't a lost or broken thing. How was it that he made me feel more whole only after knowing him for such a brief time? I used to feel peace with Ryker, like he was my home and life , but that wasn't enough anymore. Being with Ryker could never fill the void that I had inside, and I realized that after meeting Shad. I wondered what my mother would say about Shad's wardrobe and what my father would say about the way he talked. I smiled at those thoughts because although it was sad that they were gone, I knew that I could be happy—sometimes, at least, and Shad had given that to me, somehow.

I walked onto the porch. It wasn't late enough to be dark out, but I could tell from the peach and red sky that the sun was going to set soon. The front porch felt warm on my bare feet as I stood outside. Ryker sat on the front steps, and I walked to him and sat down beside him. He swung an arm across my shoulders, and I leaned into him as he expected I would, like I always had. He smelled like summer and home, and it was nice, even though he didn't give me the same rush of feelings that Shad gave me. He was still Ryker, still my best friend—my family.

"How was practice?"

"It was good. I missed it this summer," he said.

"Yeah, I bet," I said, looking at him. He looked different. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair, is it thinning out? Isn't he way too young for that? Maybe football wore him out.

"How did operation make-everyone-think-I-am-fine go today?"

"Pretty well, if I do say so myself. I think I am feeling much better these days. You were right; time has helped."

"I am so proud of you; I know how hard it must be for you. I miss them, too." He moved his hand from my shoulders and took my hand. I expected to find the gesture sweet, but I wanted to pull away as soon as he took it, and that thought irritated me, and Shad's face came into my mind. I pushed the thought away because it shocked me.

Where is Ryker's warmth? Am I broken?

"So you and Shad? What is all that about?" I questioned, hoping he would be open with me like he always used to be. No matter what he said, he just hasn't been the same since my parent's death; he is different, just like I am different. Something had changed in him while I was dealing with my sorrow that summer. He wasn't the same Ryker I remembered, and I wanted to know why. His face showed worry lines, and I wanted to smooth them out and make him smile. Was it something to do with Shad, something to do with me? Was it about my parents? I knew he loved them, too.

"I do not trust him," he grunted.

"But, you are friends?"

"Yes, I mean, it was a long time ago, I guess."

"It must have been when you went out of town or something; I don't remember ever meeting him."

"Uh, yeah—you remember that summer camp I went to once?" He let go of my hand and stood up, pacing back and forth on the porch.

"Oh, when you were like twelve?"

"Yeah, I met him there."

"Oh, you don't seem too thrilled with him."

"He's fine. I don't like that he seems interested in you, though, and I don't think he is right for you, Em."

"Isn't right for me?" My body shook with an unfamiliar anger. Ryker had no right to tell me who to like. I was furious. "What does that mean? And I am sorry, Ry, but you cannot tell me that when I actually, really like someone."

His body tensed. He stopped pacing to look at me. "You like him? How? You just met him."

"I mean, I met him when he first moved in this summer, and he came into the flower shop once. We talked a bit, and then, just now on the phone—"

He groaned, "Emma, you have got to be kidding me. Have I literally taught you nothing?"

"Ry, what are you talking about?"

"Emma, he is—he is—" he shook his head and stood still as if coming to some conclusion. "Guys like him, Em, they just want one thing." He lifted his brows, and my face flushed.

"Ry, not that again, please, seriously. I am not in danger of that happening, and if I was, my mom gave me the birds-and-the-bees talk long ago," I said, waving at him to drop it.

"I really did not need to know that," he mumbled.

"You brought it up, and why do you always think that is all guys want?" I remember wanting to date a few times in my life, and that had always been his reaction.

"I am a guy!" he yelled, spinning around to look at me, anger on his face. "I know because I am a guy, and I know what guys think, Emma!" He ran his fingers through his hair.

"Sheesh, Ryker, it's not like I am going to do that—with—him. I mean, ugh, I cannot believe we are having this conversation. I am not interested in doing that ."

"Yeah, right, Em, maybe not you—but he—"

I covered his mouth with my hand. "Don't you even go there right now." My face must have been bright red because his eyes softened, and I knew he would take pity on me. I moved my hand.

"Okay, I won't mention it again, but you need to not forget it." He pointed a finger at me.

"I think he is different." I stood up and walked away a few feet.

"How do you know, huh?"

I turned around to look at him. "Seriously, Ry, he isn't like that. There is just something about him."

"What does that mean?" he asked harshly.

"Can you calm down? You are freaking me out, Ry."

He walked over to me, bringing us inches apart, and placed his hands on my shoulders. "I am sorry, Emma, but when it comes to you, I lose my head sometimes."

"It's okay, Ry. I know you care about me. You are a great friend," I said, pulling him in for a hug.

He grunted. He was trying to scare me away from Shad, but he wasn't using the truth to do it. I could tell, and I wanted to know why.

"Why do you have to date anyways?" he asked, his face in my hair.

"Because I want to," I answered, thinking about what it would feel like to be in Shad's arms instead of Ryker's. I tried to shove that thought away because Ryker had always been my safe place, and I should never have compared him and Shad. Also, Shad had an interest in me. Ryker was only a friend.

"Emma, why do you have to grow up?" I pulled away from him and wondered why he talked that way, as if he was so much older than I was and as if he were watching a little girl growing up right there as he was looking at me.

"I am not some little girl, Ryker. I know you are lying, by the way; I know you want to protect me, but I don't need protecting. I have been through so much, and I have survived it. I can handle things, too, you know. If I trust you, even when you are lying to me, why can't you trust me? Why can't you tell me why you really don't like him?"

"I know, Emma. You are incredibly strong, but also fragile. You need time; I just don't want him to hurt you. I am not trying to lie to you—only to keep you safe."

"Why would he hurt me?" I thought for a moment back to a few years earlier when I went to the Spring Formal with Brian. It was my first date. He asked me, and I went. If Ryker had not interfered and ruined the whole night, I might have had a real relationship, a real first boyfriend.

That hurt. His protection of me had hurt me.

How often has he done that? How often have I accepted it? Not this time. Ryker has always hurt me, and even if I could not feel it before, I feel it now.

Ryker had always told me what to do, and I had always listened to him. Why? He didn't keep my secrets from my parents. And why had that never bothered me? Looking back, it appeared that he never let me have a relationship other than with him. That realization struck me as he hugged me even tighter. Sure, he was a safe place, but it hit me that I needed to find my way on my own terms, make my own choices. I loved Ryker, but maybe having more space away from him, and having other friends, other people than just him in my life was a good thing. I thought back to Brian at the dance. Nothing was going to happen at that dance except maybe me ending up having a boyfriend. My dad had always loved how protective Ryker was of me, but it was starting to feel like too much.

He has always protected me too much, I thought.

It felt smothering to me for the first time.

"People hurt other people. That's how it is here," his voice turned into a whisper at the end of his words.

"Ryker, you really need to chill out a bit. I am going to be fine. Unless you can tell me something really wrong with him, I am not buying this whole ‘he isn't good enough for you' game again. I am tired of that. I have to make my own choices."

"You know, there was a time when you would do anything I said," he growled at me.

I moved away, turning my back to him in irritation. That unfamiliar tone of his both startled and disappointed me, and I hated how I used to always do exactly what he said, but I wasn't that same girl anymore, not some numb zombie. I was alive with a beating heart.

"Well, I am not doing that anymore," I snapped as I looked back at him.

"That is apparent," he angrily responded as he clenched his fists.

I turned fully back around. "What is going on with you? I've never seen you get so worked up."

"I just don't like him." He shrugged his shoulders, turning away from me. "It was a hard practice today, too. I am out of shape, I am tired, and, look, I am sorry. I just—your dad would want me looking out for you." He again brushed his fingers through his hair.

There was a heavy silence between us. He loved my parents too.

"Do you ever think about him?" I whispered, not able to stop myself before the words came spilling out of my mouth.

"Almost every day. He was a great man—an incredible friend to me," he reminded me softly.

"He loved you, Ry. You know that, right?"

He shrugged, turning his face away from me.

"Are you sure you are okay?" I walked closer to him and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "I am a little worried about you. You look—worn out, and you have never yelled at me before."

"I am just tired. I am sorry I yelled. I've been up late, doing some research."

"Research, for what?"

"Never mind, I—I better go. I need some sleep." He rubbed his face, and it broke my heart to see him so different, so lost.

"You really are okay, Ryker?" I wrapped my arms around him, my face on his chest, and his hands wrapped tight around me. He drew circles up my back as he held me. I did not know how long we stood there, but I would have stood there for a hundred years if it could make Ryker feel better. I ached for his warmth, but it was absent. That hug was for Ryker, not for me, though. I was comforting him, and I would do whatever I could to help him.

"I love ya, Ry," I whispered as I pulled away. He took my face in his hands and traced my features with his index finger. I smiled as he reached my nose. He had done that since we were little kids, as if checking to make sure I was real.

He smiled and blew in my face. I laughed as he said: "And I, you, Em." He pulled away from me, then, and quickly walked from my yard to his.