Page 81 of I Don't Need Your Love

“Are we talking about me again?” a voice says.

I cringe when I realize it’s Ryder. Did he overhear our conversation? I’m going to murder Sophie.

I turn to him. “Why do you say that?”

“Remember you get a look on your face when you’re talking about me?” He drops down on the seat next to me and tugs on my ponytail. “You look cute in a ponytail.”

“I wear a ponytail during practice and performances,” I point out.

“I know. That’s why you look cute when you wear it outside of them. I mean, you always look cute, even when you want to put me on a spit and roast me over a fire. But you look extra cute now.” He tugs on my ponytail again.

“Stop,” I mutter as I take hold of his hand and throw it away. “You’re too annoying this early in the morning.”

“Check out that delicious pile of grub.” He nods at my plate, which has most of the food still there. I guess I overestimated how much I could eat.

“Look who’s talking.” I nod back at his plate, which is basically half empty.

“Most of mine is gone and in here.” He pats his belly.

“You’re an animal.”

“I’m a growing boy. And I need my strength to lift our precious captain without causing her damage.”

“Oh, you definitely damaged her,” Sophie says with a teasing grin. “She loves it, though. She calls them battle scars.”

“Wait, what?” Ryder asks as he focuses on me.

I lift my shoulders. “Just some black and blue marks. Nothing a dancer can’t handle.”

“Can I see where I hurt you?”

“If you insist.” I roll up my sleeve and show him.

His face changes from carefree and playful to serious and guilty. “Oh. I’m sorry about that, Carly. I hate that I dropped you.”

“And then fell on top of me,” I remind him.

He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs.

“It’s okay,” I tell him with a laugh. “This sort of thing happens in our line of business. You can’t tear yourself up over it. We just need to move on and do better.”

He watches me for a few seconds, searching my eyes like he’s making sure I reallyamokay, and then he nods. “I guess you’re right.” He picks up his fork and digs into his remaining food. The three of us continue to eat as well.

We talk about a few topics, with Ryder adding in here and there, but then the football team calls for him to return to their table—actually, they demand it. He doesn’t look too happy about it, but the guys are getting rowdier by the second, which is very cringey. Ryder gives me a cross-eyed look before dragging himself off his chair, grabbing his tray with his almost-empty plate, and hauling his unwilling self to the jock table. I watch as the guys fist bump him and welcome him like he’s the president or something. But he looks back at my table like he’d rather be here than over there.

“That was really sweet of him, Carly,” Raven says.

“Hmm?” I tear my eyes away from the jock table and look at her. “What?”

“That he was concerned about your bruises.”

“He knows Blake would stab him with hot pokers if he hurt me.”

She gives me a look. “Do you really think that’s the reason?”

I press my lips together. Because while it’s true that my brother would throw him before a moving train if he hurt me, I also know that Ryder would sooner hurt himself than allow any harm come my way. Which makes my stomach get all twisted.

“He falls first, she falls harder,” Sophie mutters as she turns another page in her book.