“It seemed like...more than that.” I glanced at him. “He put...your artwork in a gallery.”
Rider didn’t respond immediately. “He’s kind of kept an eye on me since the tagging incident. He’s like that, you know. Pays attention.” One shoulder rose. “He’s always checked in. Doesn’t see what others do.”
“What...do you mean?”
His fingers tapped off the steering wheel. “He doesn’t just see neighborhoods and addresses or any of that crap.” Pausing, he looked over at me as we hit a stoplight. “He’s been on my ass about pursuing a future in art. Talked to me about looking into MICA.” He laughed, shaking his head. “He has lofty goals.”
Maryland Institute College of Art was a well-known art school in the city. Like one of the best. “If Santos thinks you have...what it takes to go there, why wouldn’t you?”
His brows flew up. “I’m pretty sure a semester there costs more than a brand-new car.”
“What about financial aid?”
He didn’t respond.
And I didn’t drop it. Not for the same reasons Carl was hounding him the night before, but because Rider had real talent. “If not MICA, there are cheaper...colleges. Ones easier to get into.”
“I know,” he replied, and that was all he said.
I frowned as I studied him. “When we were younger, you talked about going to college. You did when I...didn’t.”
His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I was a kid then, Mouse.”
“So?”
“Things are different now.”
“Things are better now,” I replied. “Aren’t they?”
He slowed down, turning onto a narrow side road. “Have you noticed that when you feel strongly about something, you don’t take pauses?”
I had noticed that, and part of me was thrilled he’d paid close enough attention to recognize it. But seriously, that wasn’t what we were talking about. “Things are better, aren’t they?”
“Yes, Mouse,” he said with a sigh.
My eyes narrowed. “When you say it like that, I’m not sure I believe you.” I studied him, deciding I might as well ask more questions. “What happened...between you and Paige?”
“Why the third degree?” he returned as he pulled into a parking spot in front of the garage.
“Because I care,” I blurted out. He was right about the third degree. I was kind of doing the same thing Carl had done the night before, but at least I was coming from a good place.
Rider’s head swung toward me and our eyes met. I didn’t regret spewing those words out, because it was the truth. I cared about him. I had always cared about him. Without looking away, he turned off the ignition and pulled the key out. His hands settled in his lap as he studied me.
“It wasn’t fair to Paige,” he said. “The relationship.”
“How so?” I asked.
He stared at me a moment and then one side of his lips curled up. “I don’t even think we should’ve gotten together. We were better off as friends, and it...” His gaze slid to the gray, squat building. “I mean, I really did care about her. I do care about her. And maybe there was a part of me in the beginning that thought that...that it ran deeper, you know? The thing is, it doesn’t run deep.” His shoulders rose with a deep breath. “I think I’ve known that for a while. And I think I convinced myself that it was the same for Paige. I don’t regret the relationship, but I regret that I waited to end it. I hurt her because of that and, man, that sucked. She is important to me...”
He shook his head. “After you and I finished at the library, I went over to see her. I ended things like I should’ve done before. So I drank last Thursday—drank a little too much.”
Pausing, he reached over and his fingers brushed my side as he unhooked my seat belt. “Being with her wasn’t the right thing to do, you know?” He slipped the seat belt off my shoulder. “I felt like I was stringing her along. Especially now.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.” His gaze searched mine. “Especially now.”
My lips parted on a soft inhale.
A long moment stretched out between us and he asked, “You ready to head in?”
Pressing my lips together, I nodded. I opened the door and waited for Rider to come around the side. A truck drove past us, the music a heavy thump echoing as it traveled down the block. I looked around as we crossed the street. The neighborhood wasn’t bad. Lots of storefront businesses and farther down, I could see brick row homes.
“You live near here?” I asked.
Rider nodded as he stopped in front of a gray, windowless door. “Yeah. About three blocks down.” He fished out a key and unlocked the door. “The shop is kind of a mess. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It was a body shop. I expected it to be messy.
He opened the door and stepped inside, holding it for me. I followed him. A heavy scent immediately hit me, a combination of paint and oil mixed with gasoline. It smelled like hard work.
When he threw a switch along the wall, a low hum reverberated through the building. Hanging ceiling lights flickered on, spaced every couple of feet. The light was faint at first, but grew stronger.
Rider moved ahead, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Follow me?”
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I walked behind him as he made his way around a car that was jacked up into the air. Tires were missing, revealing exposed wheel wells.