Page 11 of Rear View

Ryah

The Sunday morning sun spilled through the slats of my bedroom’s wooden blinds. They cut across the towel draped around my torso and the bare skin of my legs.

I wiggled my toes against my plush, tan rug as I stared into my overflowing closet at the shelves full of shoes, and the hangers draped with colorful skirts and fancy dresses…

my “someday clothes.” Things I’d bought in hopes I’d someday feel comfortable wearing them.

My body wasn’t the issue. But whether I liked it or not, clothes drew attention—the last thing I wanted.

Eyes on me. Eyes I didn’t know. Eyes I didn’t trust.

But, God, I missed feeling good about myself. Missed the simplicity of life. It shouldn’t be so hard.

Loosing a heavy sigh, I closed the door. Going to the car show with Z and my brother wouldn’t draw attention. And things with Xavier, well, I liked the warm feeling in my chest with him, but I was still scared…just wanted to dip my toe in the water.

Grabbing a pair of jeans from the bottom drawer of my ivory-colored dresser, I tugged them up, then pulled on a gray U of E hoodie.

I snatched some socks, then plunked myself onto the edge of my mattress and the frilly pink monstrosity of my bedspread.

After Zoya and I’d gone tipsy thrifting three years before—back when I used to drink—she’d bought an electric-green shag rug that looked straight out of a seventies porn movie, and I’d bought the frilly wonder.

The thing was uglier than sin, but it reminded me of freedom and fun, so I’d kept it.

Taking out my makeup, I highlighted the bronze tone of my eyes, did a subtle contour of my features, a soft blush on the cheeks and a hint of color on my lips. Subtle, but enough to draw a rally driver’s eye. I hoped.

A knock sounded at the front entrance.

I frowned and called to Zoya. “You waiting for someone?”

“Nope,” she replied, her voice muffled through the bathroom door.

My throat tightened. Worrying my cheek between my teeth, I softly padded through the apartment so whoever it was wouldn’t hear me approach, then peered out the peephole to the corridor beyond our apartment.

Christian stood on the other side, casual in his black puff jacket as he dragged a hand through his blond hair. I exhaled heavily, unlatched the chain lock and the dead bolt, then pulled the door wide.

“Hey.” I smiled, throat tightening. “How’d you get in?”

“I squeezed past while another couple was leaving.”

Great security feature. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re wearing jeans,” he said, taking me in. “And makeup.”

I glanced down, trying to hide the blush that stole across my face. “Uh, yeah.” Was it that much of a standout? Crap! Maybe I shouldn’t—

“You free?”

I drew my head back.

The bathroom door popped open, steam spilling out from Zoya’s shower. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, and her bathrobe was pulled tight around her. Her eyes slid from me to Christian, her mouth tugging down at the corner before she took a hard right and veered into her room.

I brushed my hair back over my shoulder. “We’re, um. We’re headed out.”

His brows furrowed, shoulders tensing. “Oh?”

Christian’s shock wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t like I had a budding social life—or any life, for that matter. But the silence was awkward and for some reason, I felt compelled to fill it. “Yeah, Xavier invited us all to the car show.”

“Xavier.” His mouth thinned. “That guy from the hospital?”

“Yes, him.” I wrapped the hoodie’s drawstring around my finger. What was with the tone? As if he didn’t like it or didn’t understand, which I guessed made sense, considering my…everything. “Did you need something?”

He shifted his weight left to right, and back again. “I hoped we could hang out.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Where’s Chloe?”

He shrugged and looked away, dragging a hand through his hair.

Was that an “I don’t know”? Or an “I don’t care”? Christian wasn’t the cheating kind, so I could only assume their on-again, off-again thing was off. Again.

I bit my lip and shook my head. I couldn’t cancel on Xavier. Nor did I want to. I took a step back. “I’m really sorry, Christian. I’ve gotta finish getting ready.”

He shot his hand out, holding the door. “You don’t know this guy, R.J.” He leaned in, narrowing the gap between us. “He could be trouble.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding inside my ears.

Zoya’s scowling face darted out of her door, a blatant what an absolute ass expression painting her face.

Christian rubbed his chin hard. “I should probably tag along.”

Worrying the inside of my cheek, I told him, “I don’t have enough tickets.” Sure, I could text Xavier and ask for more, but it just felt—

“It’s cool. I’ll cover my own.”

Pressure built along my ribs. I pulled that drawstring so taut, my finger turned purple. I wanted to tell him it was fine, that I was fine, but my tongue froze right alongside my brain, which meant that nothing came out.

His gaze dropped, glancing down at himself. “When are you leaving?”

Say something, Ryah. Say something!

I twisted my wrist and tugged up my sleeve to check the time, hating myself for my cowardice. “In, um…in an hour. I told him we’d be there around two.”

The grin he offered was sheer triumph. “I’ve just gotta run home for a minute. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Yeah.” I fought not to smack myself in the face. “Sure.”

His smile was bright when he left. I closed the door with a soft click, then turned the dead bolt and slid the chain lock back into place. Should—should I have done that?

Zoya stomped out of her room, fully dressed, with her damp dark hair spilling down her shoulders. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Guess I had my answer. “He invited himself.” I threw my hands up. “What was I supposed to say?”

“No. You were supposed to say no.” She shook her head. “When Xavier said ‘take whoever you want,’ I doubt your ex was who he had in mind.”

My teeth ground. “It’s not a date, Z.”

“No, and it never will be if your baggage keeps showing up.”

I scoffed. “My baggage?”

She dropped her hands onto her hips while the ever-deepening frown she offered me screamed, “Girl, please.”

Fine. Maybe Christian was my baggage. For some reason I was still yet to suss out, Xavier didn’t scare me, but Christian, he was familiar. Going to the car show was a step outside my norm. Having him there couldn’t hurt.

God, I hoped.