The Four of Us | On Hiatus

Chapter 33

      "Never seen you before." I shook my head and took a other step back. My hair shifted further in front of my face as I tilted my head away from him, hoping he wouldn't place me as the girl who'd bumped into him in the hallway.

      "Yes, you have." He stepped forward and pointed a finger in my direction. "I've seen you somewhere else, too. I just can't think of where." He shook his head. "You look so familiar."

      I opened my mouth to protest again, to deny that he knew me, but my plan was a bit ruined whenever a deep, familiar voice called out, "Skye!"

      I spun around and stumbled again, but managed to catch my footing. A pair of stormy eyes came into view as Ryder came closer, and frustration gnawed away at me at remembering how emotionally bi polar he'd been with me as of late. The sick feeling in my gut returned from my spin and the cloud of unfamiliar emotions, but I swallowed it down and ignored it.

      "Thank god," he breathed, maybe five feet away from me, now. My frustration slid its way down to my fingertips and I found myself angrily throwing the can at his chest. His eyes averted down with furrowed eyebrows to the can now laying pathetically on the ground. "What was that for?"

      My cheeks flushed in embarrassment. I just threw a beer can at his chest like a toddler. "You make me mad."

      He laughed lightly, and I wasn't sure if the flutter in my stomach at the sound was from my anger, how much I was coming to enjoy the sound, or at the nausea rising to my throat. "I know."

      "Now I remember you."

      I spun around again to see the British guy glaring at me. "No."

      "Yes," he said, stepping forward again. I jumped as I felt a protective hand find a resting place on my waist, but relaxed soon after. "You bumped into me in the hallway, and Ryder here helped you up."

      "I don't know what you're talking about," I tried again.

      My body tensed slightly as I felt Ryder's thumb brush against my waist and his breath brush against my ear. "It's not working," he said quietly.

      The British guy laughed. "That's brilliant! It all makes sense, now. The signature on your paintings are just part of your first name, the way you're dressed now clearly shows your alter ego, and the four most known guys in the area never stray too far from your side." He took a step closer. "Look at this one, he's practically attached to you at the hip!"

      "That's close enough," Ryder threatened, the hand on my waist pulling me just slightly closer to his body.

      For some reason, the action made me angry. How dare he act this way, like nothing happened, after all of the things he'd said before walking out and leaving me frustrated and confused. I knew my thoughts were irrational, and that it was just the alcohol speaking, but I still found myself wriggling out of his hold.

      "No, it's not." I said angrily. At his confused expression, I elaborated. "I can handle myself, Ryder."

      His eyebrows pinched together in what looked like confusion, worry, and a little irritation. I was suddenly reminded of the stony expression I used to see, and it frustrated me even more to realize that he no longer kept up a a facade with me like he did with everyone else. The worst part was that I wasn't sure whether it was me I was frustrated at for not noticing earlier, or him for leaving me confused and feeling things I've never really gotten the chance to feel before. I'd spent so much time worrying about where I was going to go each time I'd run from my foster homes, that I'd never had the chance to really get to know any boys or make any friends. Ryder, Jay, Tyler, and Cyrus were the first real friends I ever had.

      And it kind of scared the hell out of me.

      I've never had people to really care about before the four of them, and now it scared me to realize just how foreign all of those feelings were. Because, I did care about Ryder, just like I did the other three, but it terrified me that it felt . . . different. And if there's one thing I'm good at when I'm drunk and scared, it's turning that fear into anger.

      Directed souly at Ryder.

      Ryder took a step closer, and I stumbled back one. The brunette from before cursed under his breath as his hands shot out to steady me. I was acutely aware even through my drunken haze of Ryder's intense glare at our companion's hands on my hips, but the stranger didn't bother to move them. Ryder's eyes shot back up to mine and softened. "I never said you couldn't, Skye."

      "Is that why you jus' glared at this dude to not touch me?" I slurred, crossing my arms over my chest.

      "'This dude'?" came the irritated voice from behind me. "I have a bloody name, you know."

      I shimmied away from his hands and turned to face him, shivering from the cold temperatures outside whenever the warmth from his touch left me. "You do?"

      My cheeks flushed from embarrassment as he laughed at my question—probably the first non-hostile thing he'd done since we met. "Yes, it's Julian."

      "Oh," was all I said as I stared at the concrete and shifted my feet uncomfortably. "Hi, Julian."

       He laughed, though it seemed a little strained. "Hello, Skye."

      Ryder sighed an irritated sigh, and I jumped at how close his voice came from behind me. "Come on, Skye. We should get you back inside the house." I turned to face him and he paused, seemingly thinking through what to say as to not anger me further. "It's safer in there where it's lit up. For all of us."

      I winced at the subtle reminder of the night I'd lost my necklace. That same night, out in the dark like this, Tyler had been shot because of my stupidity and stubbornness.

      Too bad drunk teenage girls don't think rationally.

      I crossed my arms over my chest like a child. I'd already thrown a can at him, I might as well take it up a notch. "No."

      With a sigh, Ryder brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Don't make me carry you."

      I scrunched up my nose in distaste, but before I had a chance to protest his threat, I ducked over to the left and dropped to my knees in the grass as I felt the blood drain from my face. My throat instantly burned as I heaved and emptied the contents of my stomach.

      "Damn it, Skye," Ryder muttered as he rushed over to my side. He crouched down beside me and pulled my hair from my face, not caring when some of my vomit got on his hand; at least, if he did, he didn't show it.

      "I'll take that as my cue to leave," the guy—who I now knew as Julian—said. "See you two at the party, I suppose."

      I continued to heave out the yellow liquid from my stomach long after Julian left, but Ryder didn't leave my side for a second.