Come Break My Heart Again by C.W. Farnsworth

Chapter Three

Ipark Betty in Paige’s circular driveway and spin around to yank the overstuffed bags out of the backseat of my convertible. I was given the task of transporting the bottles of alcohol Kinsley’s older brother bought for us. Neither of my parents gave the pile of bags a second glance, but I still felt obligated to throw a random assortment of stuff in to mask the glass bottles. A wireless speaker topples out of one bag as I climb out of the driver’s seat.

“Need some help?” Kinsley appears beside me.

“That’d be great.” I grab the speaker and shove it back into one of the totes. “Liam was supposed to be here by now to help haul this all inside.”

“Pretty sure I saw his car at Malone’s,” Kinsley replies, referring to the local diner.

“Great,” I grumble, tossing two bags over one shoulder.

“This all alcohol?” Kinsley laughs as she grabs a couple more.

“No. It’s just three bottles and all the crap I thought I’d need to cover it up.”

“You didn’t need anything to cover it up, Elle. That’s the whole reason we gave you the bottles.”

“Yeah, I know,” I respond.

For once, the reference to the fact I’m a famous goody two-shoes does more than irk me. It makes me feel like ants are crawling on my skin. I have a sudden, inexplicable urge to do something stupid. Unexpected. Uncharacteristic.

But I act the same as always as I step inside the soaring foyer that serves as the entrance to Paige’s house. Kinsley and I drop the overflowing bags on the shiny floor and pull out the three bottles of vodka that are the only valuable contents. I follow Kinsley out the French doors that lead to the patio. Everyone’s gathered around the pool, claiming lounge chairs and unfurling streamers to drape around the yard.

Paige races over to us, wearing a pink sash spelling out Birthday Girl over her bikini.

“Yassss. Finally!” She grabs one of the bottles of vodka from me.

“Yeah, nice to see you, too,” I grumble when she immediately turns around to head toward the table of drinks.

I follow her laugh over to the surface spread with a wide array of beverages.

Paige starts pouring straight away, handing me a full glass. I take a sip, discovering that a sizable portion of the liquid filling the cup seems to be alcohol. Warmth seeps down my esophagus, heating my stomach and flowing through my veins. I don’t drink much. My tolerance is more nonexistent than just low.

I help distribute some decorations, and then plop down on the soft cushions of one of the lounge chairs. Last week’s humidity has begun to abate, giving way to the barest hint of fall. A soft breeze ripples through manicured grass, loosening some of my hair from its bun.

More people start to trickle into the yard, including the football team. Liam comes and perches at the end of my chair, giving me an easy grin as he watches me spread sunscreen on my legs.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hi,” I reply. Despite the alcohol I’ve imbibed, some tension sneaks into my muscles. “Where have you been? You were supposed to pick me up.”

“I know. Sorry. Guys wanted to get breakfast at Malone’s, and you know how they are.”

I glance over at the boisterous group of seniors on Fernwood’s football team.

“Yeah, I do,” I say. I’m not really annoyed Liam never showed up earlier. I’m annoyed I’m not annoyed. That I don’t really care what he does or when he does it. “It’s fine,” I add because he’s eyeing me warily in a way that suggests he doesn’t know I’m actually indifferent.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he offers.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” I agree.

“Come on,” Liam hauls me up from the chaise. “I need a drink.”

We walk back over toward the table of drinks, where Paige’s holding court, clearly in her element. She grins as Liam and I reach the table.

“What can I get ya?” she asks, doing a pretty accurate imitation of a diner waitress for someone who I know has never held any sort of service job.

“Beer?” Liam requests.

Paige rolls her eyes. “This isn’t a backyard barbecue. Pick a cocktail.” She points to the list of options carefully printed on the chalkboard that, if I had to guess, was bought for the sole purpose of this party.

Liam squints at the list. “I guess I’ll take a Paul Revere Punch?” He says it more like a question than an order.

“Excellent choice,” Paige compliments, starting to splash together various liquids. I lose interest in her bartending, turning my gaze to the pool instead.

“What’s trailer trash doing here?” Liam suddenly asks.

I glance up to see Ryder James saunter through the open gate leading into Paige’s backyard.

Paige looks over as well. “Kennedy asked me if she could invite him. Think someone’s got a crush,” Paige sing-songs.

“On him?” Liam scoffs, disbelief heavy in the sound. But after eight months of dating, I’m well aware of the fact Liam only belittles those he’s threatened by. Apparently, Ryder qualifies.

“Don’t think she’s the only one,” Paige replies, looking straight at me.

I turn my gaze back toward the game of water basketball taking place in the pool. I’m pretty sure she’s referring to the fact Ryder James has been a frequent topic of conversation among the female half of Fernwood High this past week. Given Liam’s reaction, it must have had some discussion on the male side as well.

I also think she’s trying to ascertain my response to Ryder’s unexpected appearance.

Liam snorts as Paige hands him his punch. “Whatever. I’m going to play basketball. Want to come cheer, babe?”

“Maybe later,” I reply, still staring at the pool. Later, as in never. I get my fill of cheering for jocks on Friday nights.

Liam gulps the last of his drink and strolls off.

“Paige!” I recognize Kennedy’s cheery voice, and automatically stiffen. Because I’m pretty sure its nearby presence means Ryder is also close by.

I’m not wrong.

“Ryder, this is Paige Anderson,” Kennedy introduces.

“Happy Birthday.” I hear Ryder say. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I look over, and he’s smiling at my best friend. Politely. Reservedly. There’s no sign of the genuine grin he flashed me before our last conversation went up in flames, and I had no idea how much that mattered to me until I see the smaller upturn of his lips.

“And this is Elle Clarke,” Kennedy adds, and that green gaze slides to me.

I prepare myself for a detached pleasantry. Instead, Ryder smirks. “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh, okay then,” Kennedy replies, obviously surprised. And a bit annoyed if I’m reading her expression correctly.

Possibly that her introductions were unnecessary.

Probably because Ryder knows who I am, and if I had to guess, she was assuming he didn’t. Or didn’t care.

There’s a pause where we should say hello to each other, but we don’t.

“Do you want a drink?” Kennedy asks Ryder. “Elle smuggled the alcohol in, if you can believe it.”

“Actually, I can,” Ryder replies, and I glare at him, trying to ignore the heat I can feel flooding my cheeks. “But no, I’m good.”

“Okay,” Kennedy responds, not missing a beat. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Jessica and Amanda. Bye, girls!”

“Bye,” Paige says as Kennedy pulls Ryder away. I don’t say anything.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Paige snorts. “Wow.”

I still don’t say anything.

“Wow,” Paige repeats.

“What?” I snap, taking a sip of my drink.

“Elle Clarke, you’re in tro-uble.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She slants a side glance at me as Kinsley approaches us. “Yeah, you do.”

“Damn, I have no idea what you put in this, but it is good. Load me up again.” Kinsley plops her plastic cup down on the table serving as a temporary bar top with a wide grin.

I take advantage of the interruption to head for the perimeter of the pool, taking a seat on the cement surrounding the water and dipping my toes in the cool liquid. The basketball game is taking place in the opposite end, so my view of the water is clear of any splashing or swashing.

It’s peaceful. Relaxing. Calming.

Until someone sits down beside me.

I don’t need to look over to see who it is. I can tell based on how my stomach flips. How I’m filled with excitement yet simultaneously bracing for confrontation.

“I’m sorry,” Ryder states.

His apology is unexpected, but I recover quickly. “It’s fine.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“I said it’s fine, Ryder.”

He’s silent, and I’m still stubbornly staring at the water, so I have no idea how he took my refusal to discuss his simple dismissal of my life.

“So… you settled for the quarterback?”

NowI look over at him. He’s leaning back on his palms, studying me with his head tilted to the side. I can barely make out the shade of shamrock assessing me under the shaded brim of his faded ball cap.

“Jealous, James?”

“Of spending time with Liam Hathaway?” Ryder scoffs. “No.”

“Of him spending time with me.” I lean back, mirroring his pose.

Emerald eyes appraise me. “Do you? Spendtime with him?”

I flush. “That’s none of your business.”

“That’s a ‘no,’” Ryder replies confidently.

I glare at him. “I wouldn’t tell you even if—” I start heatedly, then stop when I realize I just told him exactly what he wanted to know.

He grins. “What did I tell you?”

“Kennedy isn’t too sunny for you?” I snap back, flustered.

Ryder grins. “Jealous, Clarke?”

I am. I’m annoyed with Ryder, my boyfriend is on the other end of this pool, and I’m painfully jealous he’s here because another girl invited him. I don’t say anything, but the truth must be scrawled across my face because Ryder’s amusement fades.

“I didn’t come here because of Kennedy,” he informs me.

My chest suddenly feels less tight, and I don’t let myself analyze why that might be.

“Then why are you here?” I question.

“Because I knew you would be.” He looks straight at me, not giving me a chance to hide from the admission.

“So?” I manage.

“So, I wanted to apologize.”

“You came to a birthday party just to tell me you’re sorry?”

“Yup.”

“Huh,” is my witty response. “Nothing better to do this weekend?” I add when he doesn’t say anything.

He chuckles, and my stomach clenches. “Just a gap in the schedule. I’ve got someplace to be at four.”

“ELLE!” I glance across the pool to see Liam beckoning me over, glancing at the guy sitting next to me with clear annoyance.

“One minute,” I call back. “It’s only just after three,” I challenge Ryder.

“Impressive time-telling,” he informs me. “I’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of me.”

“Is it something… messy?” I ask.

Ryder studies me, his jaw working a couple times. “Not supposed to be.”

He moves to stand, and I grab his forearm without thinking. Ryder glances down at my pink-tipped fingers wrapped around his lower arm, surprise sketched in the lines of his expression.

“Be careful,” I tell him. Just like the impromptu movement, I don’t bother to mask the naked earnestness in my voice.

“I will.”

“Do you promise?”

Ryder shakes his head, looking a little bemused. A bit incredulous. A tad annoyed.

“Yeah. I promise.”

In one smooth motion, he stands and strides away, only pausing to say something to Kennedy, who’s sitting on the chaise lounges with a few of the other cheerleaders. I look back down at my feet, watching my calves swish through the cool, chlorinated water.

Wishing Ryder promising me anything didn’t mean quite so much.