Home > The Problem with Forever(52)

The Problem with Forever(52)
Author: Jennifer L. Armentrout

I was sure of it.

* * *

Rider walked me to my car after speech the following day. He was quiet, though, not saying much as I opened the back door of my car and tossed my bag on the backseat. I worried it had to do with what happened between him and Paige and the chaste kiss on my forehead that I knew he had to have regretted. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that Paige had been a no-show in class today.

Keys in hand, I closed the door and faced him. He stepped to the side and opened the driver’s-side door for me. I murmured my thanks and started to slide in.

“Hey,” he said, staring at the stained asphalt. “I was thinking about Thursday.” His lashes lifted, and air slowly leaked out of my lungs. “We’re still on, Mouse?”

My response was immediate even though my stomach flipped over. I nodded. “Yes.”

His lips kicked up. “Really?” He sounded surprised, and I didn’t understand why and I wasn’t going to let myself think about Carl’s conversation last night. “Cool. Looking forward to it.”

So was I, but those three words were frozen among the swell of anticipation and excitement. Rider wanted to hang out. Holy crap, this was like a red alert. I so needed to talk to Ainsley immediately.

Rider grinned as he shoved one hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Okay, then.”

“Okay,” I managed to whisper.

He dipped his chin and started to turn away, but then stopped. Like yesterday, he then lowered his head and pressed his lips against my forehead, and also like the day before, I felt that brief sweep of his lips all the way to my toes. My heart joined my stomach, flip-flopping all over the place.

Rider straightened and took a step back, tapping his notebook off his jeans. “See you tomorrow.”

And unlike yesterday, he didn’t say he shouldn’t have done that.

* * *

When I got home, a spicy scent lured me into the kitchen. My stomach grumbled and I might’ve started drooling the moment I spotted the cheesy enchiladas cooling on the counter.

They were drenched in homemade queso.

My favorite.

Dropping my bag on the floor, I skipped over to where Rosa was placing the plates on the table. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and squeezed.

Rosa laughed as she turned. “It’s the queso, isn’t it?”

Nodding, I dropped my arms and stepped back. My tummy growled again as Carl carried the baking pan over to the center of the kitchen table. I wanted to plant my face in it and slurp it down.

“Hey there,” Carl said, tossing the oven mitt into an open drawer as he looked up. “How was school?”

“Good.” I washed my hands and then grabbed a soda out of the fridge. Carl narrowed his eyes at my choice of drink but said nothing. Good thing, because he’d have to pry the Coke out of my cold, lifeless fingers.

Rosa grinned as she tucked an errant strand back behind her ear. “There’s also salad. Make sure you’re eating that, too.”

Salad? Who wanted salad when I had beefy enchiladas smothered in cheese? Come on, now. The look on my face must’ve given away what I was thinking, because the salad bowl magically ended up closer to where I sat.

As I plopped down at the table, a horrible thought occurred to me. Did Rider have warm dinners ready for him when he got home from school or the garage? Hector had said his grandmother still worked. Did the boys have to fend for themselves?

Rosa cut out two enchiladas and placed them on my plate. Did he get meals like this? Someone scooping out his food and placing it on his plate for him? I didn’t enjoy the enchiladas as much I normally would and the chitchat between Rosa and Carl, the ease and the warmth, felt amplified by the knowledge that I was so incredibly lucky. Not like I hadn’t realized that every single day since Carl walked into my hospital room, but tonight I felt like I...like I needed to really acknowledge it more often.

I was lucky.

“Did you look at the papers I left in your room this morning?” Carl asked.

Papers? My thoughts raced until I realized he was talking about the pamphlets on the bioengineering and biology departments at University of Maryland. I hadn’t looked at them, so I shook my head.

Carl squinted as he lifted his glass. “You have early acceptance at UM, so there is time, but declaring a major is important. You really need to be taking that seriously.”

Considering I had several years before I really needed to do that, I thought I was taking it seriously.

“Need to make sure you’re still focusing on the ultimate plan,” he continued. “Picking the right major will decide your entire future.”

My eyes widened. That sounded intense.

“The first two years of college are so important to gaining an early assurance into George Washington’s medicine and research programs.” Rosa smiled like she always did whenever she spoke of George Washington. She was an alumni, as was Carl. And that had been Marquette’s plan. Go to UM and then gain early assurance into George Washington. “Getting into any med-or science-related graduate program will not be easy. Planning starts way before you start your freshman year.”

I shifted uncomfortably as I focused on my plate. Trying to picture myself studying bioengineering or chemistry sort of made me want to break out in hives. Not that I couldn’t do it. I liked to think I was smart enough, but I... It didn’t excite me.

There was a pause and Rosa said, “Can I ask you something, honey?”

I nodded once more.

She placed an arm onto the table and leaned toward me. “Is this what you want to do?”

My heart turned over heavily. This was the first time that question had been asked of me. I sat back in my chair, unsure of how to answer, because I didn’t know. If I didn’t follow this plan, what plan would I have? What did I want to do? I knew I wanted to do something that helped others. A job that meant something at the end of the day. I knew I wanted that because I was given a huge second chance. I wanted that to mean something. But spending a life in a lab wasn’t the only thing that helped people. There were police officers, psychologists, social workers and teachers and—

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