My back stiffens with tension. I feel the inquisition coming on. But that’s okay. I take a quick peek over at Ari, note her rigid posture, and release a rickety breath for the both of us. I admit, I don’t get the parent third degree often, ever. But that’s because I never found a girl worth the trouble.
“I’m a senior, sir.”
He nods slowly. “I see. You plan to go pro next year?”
“Dad…” Ari inserts into the conversation.
But it’s really okay. “I do, sir. At least, that’s the plan at the moment. But I also plan for more schooling. Possibly graduate school. A couple years down the road.”
“That’s wonderful,” Becca says. I glimpse Ari’s unease toward her mother, but I don’t let on. “You have to always have a plan B. What’s your major?”
I smile. “Creative writing.”
A thick wall of silence stacks up like bricks between both parties. The music from the orchestra fills the vacuum of air. I pull the lapels of my tux straight.
“Well, that’s certainly an interesting plan B,” Mr. Wyndemere states. He looks about the room before he says, “Did your parents attend?”
Now this…migh
t get uncomfortable. I don’t talk about my parents to anyone. And I’m not willing to make an exception now. “No, sir.”
When I don’t elaborate, he presses on, undeterred. “Are they local? Would I know them?”
He knows my last name, so he most likely knows the answer to those questions already. I’m starting to understand why Ari seems so anxious all of the time. “Yes, sir. Well, a couple towns over, actually. I’ve lived here my whole life. So I think it’s safe to assume we’ve not been acquainted until now.”
His eyes widen, maybe from disbelief that a jock could outwit him. I’m not going to play the “measure you by your parents’ worth” game with him. I’ll be as polite as possible, for Ari’s sake, because I really do understand her situation—but I won’t allow anyone to use my family to make me feel less than. I suppress the urge to turn the topic of conversation around, and wait for his response.
“I see, well. That’s wonderful.” He looks at Ari and smiles brightly before turning a hard gaze on me. “I’ve always thought there was something to be said about sticking to your roots.” He nods curtly. But he leaves what’s to be said, unsaid. Although his insinuation is perfectly clear to all.
“Jonathan, I’m practically parched,” his wife says, linking her arm through his.
“Right, dear.” He acknowledges her almost as an afterthought. Then quickly says, “Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, Ryder. Arian”—he lifts his chin in her direction—“we’ll be leaving soon. The event is winding down.”
He leaves before Ari can reply.
An awkward quiet builds between us. I’m not sure just how much her father’s opinion of me weighs on her…and I’m not positive how to broach that subject. Or if I should simply ignore the obvious.
She says, “Well, now that the torture part of the evening is over…” And turns toward me.
Relieved, I smile. I’m only concerned about what her family thinks of me if she is. I take her hand and begin to guide her toward a table. “That wasn’t so bad,” I say.
She pulls her hand free, and my chest tightens. “I’m sorry.” She moves in closer to me as she says this, her head turned to the side. So that she’s not looking directly at me. That pains me more than anything her father could’ve slung at me. “That was uncalled for. He’s just…I don’t know.”
“A father?” I offer, but we both know that’s a simplified excuse for what just went down.
Even so, she accepts the pretext gratefully with a small smile and a glance into my eyes. “Thanks. But I think I should just leave. It will only get uglier from here if—”
“If you’re seen with me longer than what’s considered appropriate?” My brows inch together. I am trying to keep my cool, because I get where she’s coming from, but it’s still a blow to my ego. “Do you have a dance card I should fill out, too?”
“Ryder. Don’t.” The warning startles the sarcasm right out of me. “I’m not my parents.”
“Glad to hear,” I say, and immediately regret it. Dammit, but I’m hot tempered sometimes.
Rolling her eyes, she releases a little, clipped laugh. “Right. So this was fun. I think we were safer when we were at war.”
A heavy breath releases from my nose. My lips press firmly together. I could get ahold of this situation right now and stop where this is going. It’s all up to me. I’m just unsure if I want to. My gaze drifts over her dress, her small frame, so tiny and fragile looking. Underneath, I know what hides. That fire she turned up at the beach, that blaze she fueled at the game.
It’s enough to put me on frustrate right here. But I decide against demeaning myself. Groveling, even. Especially in front of her…or for her. I’ve done enough of that for one lifetime.