Lying Out Loud

“You drink?” I asked, a little surprised.

He looked up and smiled when he saw me. “Sometimes,” he said. “But not tonight. This is water. I don’t have enough friends here to know I’ll have a ride home.”

Damn. I was sort of hoping to get him inebriated before the truth came out. Why did he have to be so mature and responsible?

“You can drink, though,” Ryder said. “I know Amy isn’t with you, but I can give you a ride home later if you wanted.”

“And leave Gert here? Where anyone might steal her?”

He snorted. “I have the feeling no one wants to steal your car.”

“Hey, don’t dis Gert. She’s vintage.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

The truth was, I would have loved for Ryder to drive me home. To maybe, possibly, go through with that almost-kiss from a couple of weeks ago. But I knew that, after what I was about to tell him, there was no way he’d want to be stuck in a car with me. In fact, he’d probably be more than happy to strand me here at Chris’s party.

Ryder finished his water and tossed the cup into the recycling. “It’s for the best,” he said. “I’m sure the beer here is no good.”

“Oh, great. Are you a beer snob, too?”

“No,” he said defensively. “I just prefer PBR.”

I snorted. “Of course you do. I should’ve known.”

Ryder looked a little sheepish.

“You know,” I said, “this is something you and I may have in common. Pabst Blue Ribbon might be the drink of hipsters, but it’s also the drink of my people — poor white trash. It was always my dad’s favorite beer.”

“Don’t call yourself white trash,” he said. He was suddenly very serious, and looking at me in a way that he hadn’t before. In a way that made me catch my breath.

Now was the time to tell him. Get it over with and go home. I opened my mouth to begin the confession, to finally tell him the truth, but the words that came out weren’t at all the ones I’d intended to say.

“Do you wa

Ryder blinked at me. “What was that?”

Take it back, I thought. That’s not why you’re here. My mouth and my brain seemed to be at war with each other.

“Let’s dance,” I said, already trying to justify it. I had a few hours. Might as well have a little fun before I broke the news, right?

“But … no one else is dancing.”

“Perfect. Then you can be a hipster about it later. We were dancing before dancing was cool,” I said, doing a fake Ryder voice.

“I do not sound like that.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” I grabbed his arm and started pulling him into the living room. “Come on. Be spontaneous.”

“The last time you said that to me, I ended up in a bright orange hunting jacket in the middle of the mall.”

“And wasn’t that fun?”

The answer must have been yes, because Ryder didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed my other hand and spun me into the living room. The heavy bass hip-hop wasn’t exactly the right jam for spi

“Wow,” I said when he swung me back into his arms, his hand resting on my hip. We were so close, closer than we’d ever been before. And I felt like I was on fire. And then there was the fact that everyone was staring. “This is how you dance at parties?”

“My mom made me take ballroom classes in middle school,” he confessed. “It’s the only way I know how to dance. Sorry. It’s pretty embarrassing.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s the opposite of embarrassing. It’s fantastic. These idiots wish they could be us right now.”

Ryder smiled and gave me another spin.

We danced until we couldn’t anymore. Until our feet hurt and we were short of breath, either from the exertion or from standing so close to each other. For me, it was definitely the latter.

“Do you want some water?” Ryder asked.

I nodded, and we made our way back to the kitchen, stumbling despite our sobriety.

Ryder grabbed us each a red cup and began to fill them with tap water. I hopped up onto the counter, taking some of the pressure off my feet. “Damn. That was —”

“That. Was. Awesome!” Chris a

“The same way everyone was dancing earlier?” I asked as Ryder handed me my cup.

Chris didn’t seem to hear me. “Ryder, dude, that was wicked! I thought dancing was lame, but all the girls out there ate it up! You’ve gotta teach me your moves!”

I snorted into my water as I imagined Chris trying to dance the way Ryder did. He’d probably get a little too into it and end up giving some poor girl a concussion.

“I’ll put on whatever music you want if you guys want to dance again!”

“Maybe in a little while,” Ryder agreed. He looked over at me, those green eyes meeting mine in a way that made me shiver. “If So

We held each other’s gaze for a long moment.

“Sweet!” Chris said. “I better get back out there. Gotta keep things under control.”

“What was out of control?” Ryder murmured so that only I could hear.

I laughed, and Chris ran back into the living room.

“You know,” Ryder said, “we probably were the highlight of this party.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m the highlight of every party.”

Ryder smiled. “I don’t doubt that.”

Again with the shiver.

Everyone must’ve finished their beers at once, because all of a sudden the kitchen became a high-traffic area. Ryder took my cup from me so I could hop off the counter without spilling. He gestured for me to follow him, and we wove our way through the pack of thirsty partyers, darting into the hallway to avoid another run-in with Chris.

Somehow, we ended up in an empty bedroom.

I took my cup back from Ryder and sat down on the edge of the bed. “So,” I said. “What’s the verdict on your first Hamilton party?”

“Not too shabby,” he said.

“But I’m sure it doesn’t even compare to the parties back in DC, right?”

“This party is much better than the ones in DC.”

“Oh, come on,” I said, setting my cup on the nightstand. “That’s not even remotely possible. You partied with politicians’ kids. I watch enough TV to know it gets wild. Plus, you’ve got money. Which means better booze, at the very least.”

“Maybe the parties back home had some advantages,” he agreed, putting his own water down before sitting next to me.

Really close to me.

“But,” he continued, his eyes on me in that way again. That way that gave me chills and made my face burn all at once. I was suddenly very aware of where we were — an empty bedroom, on a bed. “The company here is much better.”

“Ryder,” I said, even though every inch of me was fighting me, trying to keep me silent. But I couldn’t put it off anymore. “I need to talk to you … about Amy.”

He shook his head. “Amy is the last thing I want to talk about right now.”

I’d been dying to hear those words for months. Dying for him to look at me the way he was right now. But it was too late. I’d promised Amy, sworn I’d tell him the truth tonight.

I swallowed. “Listen —”

“So

Then he kissed me.

And his mouth definitely didn’t taste like root beer. It was mint.

One of his hands was on my neck, the other on my knee. I didn’t move — couldn’t breathe or think — as his lips moved over mine. I was stu

But when he pulled away, even just an inch, it felt like I might die.

“Was … was that okay?” he asked. “Should I not have done that?”

No. He definitely shouldn’t have. Because I needed to tell him the truth.

Now.

Just say it, I told myself. Before this goes any further.

“So