Mischief & Magnolias (Magnolia Branch Book 2) Page 3

  Mr. Marsden nods. “I agree. We should go in to dinner. We can discuss this more later.”

  “What’s there to discuss?” Ryder asks.

  My mom turns on him. “Are you serious, Ryder? What’s there to discuss? We sent you two off to freshman orientation together—in a sleeper car, for God’s sake! We thought it was okay—we thought you hated each other.”

  “Oh, my God, Mom! You wanted us to go to school together, remember?”

  “Yes, here in Mississippi. Not off in New York where you can do who knows what with no one there to keep an eye on the both of you.”

  “Wait, so you’re saying it would be fine if we were together at Ole Miss, but it’s not okay because we’re at school in New York? Is that what this is really about?”

  Laura Grace looks over at my mom, then back at me. There’s a beat of silence—an unspoken shared agreement that passes between them—before she speaks. “It’s about you two lying to us,” she says quietly. “All this time.”

  There’s really nothing I can say to that. It’s true—we did.

  And if this icy reception is an indicator of what would have happened if we’d told them the truth way back then…well, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. After all, these past fourteen months have been the happiest of my life. And now? Everything’s going to change.

  Hot tears burn behind my eyelids, clouding my vision. Choking back a sob, I flee from the room before they have the chance to spill over.

  Ryder finds me fifteen minutes later, sitting outside by the ruins near the creek, shivering in the cold. He’s brought me a fleece sweatshirt, which he places gently around my shoulders before lowering himself to the ground beside me.

  I lean into him, the tears threatening to spill over once more. “I’m sorry, Ryder. I didn’t mean to leave you alone with them. I just...I had to get out of there.”

  “It’s okay. Things have calmed down some. They’re eating dinner, at least, and your mom doesn’t quite look like she wants to kill me anymore.”

  I shake my head. “I just don’t get it. I mean, it’s what they always wanted, right?”

  “Well, you know how they are, Jem. They wanted to be the ones pulling the strings—in control. We did this our way, without them. That’s going to take some getting used to, that’s all.”

  “I sure as hell hope you’re right. My mom…she sounded so mad. I guess I just didn’t expect it. You think they’re going to…I don’t know, try to keep us apart or something?”

  “Just let them try,” Ryder says. “We are adults now. It’s not like they get a say in who we see or what we do.”

  “They’re paying our tuition, Ryder. So they kind of do get a say.”

  “Good point. But they love us. They want us to be happy, and I don’t care what they say, they’ve always wanted us together. They can’t just up and change their minds about that now.” He pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head. “Nah, they’ll come around. Eventually.”

  “I hope you’re right. God, that was awful. You think they know we’re…I mean…” I trail off, blushing hard.

  “They’re not stupid. We’ve known each other our entire lives, we’ve been together more than a year, and we’re adults now, so yeah…I think they know, Jem.”

  “Ugh, this is so embarrassing. Now they’re probably going to want to have ‘safe sex’ talks with us or something. This is exactly why I didn’t want them to know.”

  “They’ve already been through this with Nan. I mean, isn’t she practically living with Dean these days?”

  I just nod, even though it’s different. Nan is three years older than me—I’m their baby. Besides, Nan never lied to them about Dean.

  “It’ll be fine,” Ryder assures me. “We’ll get through this.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I relax against him, watching as the sun ducks below the horizon, bathing the sky in swaths of deep orange and pink.

  If only we could stay like this forever—just the two of us, wrapped in our own little cocoon, happy and comfortable, together. I’d taken it for granted in New York. One thing’s for sure—this is not how I expected my winter break to begin, not by a long shot.

  My stomach grumbles loudly, reminding me that I haven’t yet had dinner.

  “You ready to go back and face the music?” Ryder asks, patting my belly.

  I fling his hand away in horror. “Yeah, as long as you don’t do that in front of them! Sheesh, talk about giving them the wrong idea. Someone might have a heart attack.”

  He rises, offering a hand down to me. “Got it—no belly patting in public,” he says with a grin, pulling me up against him.

  I let out a sigh as his lips touch mine, his arms warm and strong around me as we stand beneath a Mississippi sky, the first twinkling stars the only witness to our kiss.

  “Let’s go,” he says, pulling away and reaching for my hand.

  I just nod, realizing with a start that I’d follow this boy anywhere—even the lion’s den, metaphorically speaking.

  Otherwise knows as the Marsdens’ dining room.

  Chapter 4

  I push the food around my plate, not hungry—not even for Lou’s famed filet. Dinner has been an uncomfortable affair, with Ryder and I arriving just after the salad plates had been removed and the main dish served. The festive atmosphere from earlier is long gone, replaced with a tense edge. Conversation begins in fits and starts, trailing off awkwardly at times.

  Ryder’s fingers brush mine beneath the table but I bat his hand away, beginning to wilt under my mom’s suspicious gaze.

  “What about the deb ball, Jemma?” Laura Grace says, and I snap to attention. “I hope you’ll be able to take the week off school. We’ll need you here a couple days before the luncheon for rehearsals.”

  “Wait, what?” I ask, my voice rising. “I can’t take a whole week off, not in the middle of the semester.”

  My mom shakes her head. “It’s during spring break.”

  “Not my spring break,” I argue. “We’re on a different schedule than the schools here.”

  “I suppose next you’re going to tell me that you’re not doing the deb ball,” my mom says sourly.

  I let out a heavy sigh. “I said I would do it, Mom. I just can’t miss a whole week of school, that’s all.”

  She lays down her fork with a loud clunk. “Well, you’ll need to choose an escort, then.”

  “What do you mean, choose an escort?” I can’t help but roll my eyes at the absurdity of the situation. “You’ve only been talking about me going to the deb ball with Ryder since I was, what? Three?”

  “That was before you two started sneaking around behind our backs,” she counters.

  “Seriously? What, were we supposed to issue a formal statement when we started going out? So that everyone could oooh and aaah and make us uncomfortable? Is that what you wanted?”

  My dad holds up his hands. “Okay, that’s enough. We can talk about this later. At home.”

  I can’t help but notice that Ryder’s remaining silent beside me—not coming to my aid. Why is he letting me take the heat like this? I thought we were in this together?

  “I need some air,” I say, standing abruptly. “Thank you for dinner, Miss Laura Grace. If you’ll excuse me.” I rush out of the dining room without a backward glance.

  “I’m going, too,” I hear Ryder say, his chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor.

  He catches up to me in the foyer, draping an arm around my shoulders before leading me out to the rockers on the front porch. “It’s cold,” he says. “You forgot my sweatshirt.”

  I just nod, my stomach churning uncomfortably. My legs are trembling as I lower myself into the chair on the farthest edge of the porch. For a moment, I think about taking off toward home on foot, leaving them all behind to sort it out without me. Instead, I take a few deep, calming breaths, reining in my anger.

  The sky is a deep indigo now, the trees nothing but shadows in the distance. A breeze
ruffles the shrubs surrounding the porch and I shiver, pulling my thin cardigan more tightly around myself. A minute later I hear the front door creak open and Ryder’s footsteps approach as I stare out into the inky darkness.

  “Here you go.” He hands me the light blue fleece with the Columbia football logo emblazoned across the back. I take it and I slip it back on, snuggling into the warmth as I zip it up to my chin. He takes the rocker beside me and for several minutes we sit in silence, listening to the familiar sounds of a Mississippi night.

  “I just don’t understand them,” I say at last, my voice thick as I hold back tears. “I mean, I get that they’re mad we didn’t tell them. But this is what they’ve always wanted. What they’ve dreamed of. Where’s the celebration? The champagne toasts?”

  He reaches for my hand. “I think they’re just in shock. They’ll get over it, I promise.”

  “Yeah, from your lips to God’s ears.” I shake my head. “It’s all my fault. I never should have made you kiss me like that. Stupid mistletoe.”

  “We had to tell them at some point, Jem. I guess this was as good a way as any.”

  I give him a sharp look. “I would have preferred less drama.”

  “Just be glad they didn’t catch us last night in my truck. Now, that would have been some drama.” His face lights up with a grin, dimples in full-on effect.

  “Ugh, don’t even kid around about that.” I can’t help it, though—a smile creeps across my face. “Can you even imagine?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t even want to go there.” He drops my hand and leans back in his rocker. “Seriously, though, it’s not like we’re getting married or anything. They’ll chill out about it eventually.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I mutter, my smile vanishing. I don’t know why I’m annoyed by his words—he’s right, no one’s talking about marriage yet. We’re only freshmen in college, way too young to even think about our relationship in those terms. Still…I can’t help but imagine a future with him. Otherwise, what’s the point? I thought he felt the same, and I’m a little rattled to realize that maybe he doesn’t.

  Of course, the irony is that Ryder’s the one always saying stuff like, “Well, when we’re old and married…” and referring to our future kids, as if they’re a given. Just a few weeks ago, when I made lasagna in his dorm’s common kitchen, he teased that it was a good thing I could cook—at least our kids wouldn’t starve. I was like, “Oh, we’ve got kids now?” which led to a pretty cute conversation about little Jemma and Ryder clones running around Magnolia Landing someday.

  His phone buzzes loudly, pulling me from my confused thoughts. He pulls it out of his pocket and glances at the screen with a scowl. “Who is this Stefan Marini guy, and why does he keep sending me friend requests?”

  “Stefan?” I ask, leaning over to look at his phone as he opens Facebook. “He’s sending you a friend request?”

  “Yeah, and he sent me a request on Instagram, too.”

  “He’s a guy in my film program,” I say with a shrug. “He lives in my dorm and we hang out with the same people. He’s friends with Allie and Robyn and Tate,” I add. “Part of that group.” All friends of mine that Ryder’s met several times and seemed to like.

  “What kind of name is ‘Stefan Marini,’ anyway?” he says, tapping his screen. Accepting the friend request, I suppose. “Sounds like a pretentious prick.”

  “He’s from California. I think his dad is French, maybe Italian—a film producer. I’m pretty sure they come from big-time money.” I have no idea why I offer so many details. Truth be told, Stefan is kind of a pretentious jerk.

  Ryder’s scowl deepens as he stops tapping and studies the screen. “What the hell? Are you sitting in his lap?” He tilts the phone toward me, showing me the picture he’s pulled up.

  “He’s tying my shoe,” I say sheepishly, remembering when the photo in question was taken. It was totally innocent, of course—but looking at it now, I can see why he’d think otherwise. It’s a weird angle. It does look like I’m sitting in his lap, and I have no idea why he’d post it now.

  “You had to sit in his lap for that?”

  “I’m not sitting in his lap. He’s just…we were all goofing off in the lobby during finals. My shoe was untied, and he…” I trail off, shaking my head. “Why am I even explaining this? I promise you, it’s no big deal.”

  “Don’t you think it’s…I dunno, suspicious, maybe?...that he sends me a friend request immediately after posting a picture of him with my girlfriend? What’s up with that? That’s, like, a total dick move.”

  “How should I know?” I say with a shrug.

  Ryder just stares at me, as if he’s waiting for me to crack or something. “Does this guy have a thing for you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Okay, so a few of my friends think that he does. “But he knows I have a boyfriend. I talk about you all the time.”

  “Well, it’s pretty clear that he wanted to make sure I saw this picture.” He closes Facebook and clicks over to another app. “He posted it on Instagram, too. Asshole,” he mutters under his breath.

  “I’m sure he’s just being friendly,” I say, even though I’m not sure. It does seem a little passive aggressive, especially since we’re not that good of friends. Still, I’m kind of annoyed at Ryder, and I just can’t stop the dig that comes out of my mouth next. “Anyway, what does it matter? Like you said, it’s not like we’re getting married or anything.”

  Ryder’s head shoots up and he glances over at me sharply. “Wait, are you mad at me?”

  “Well, you are acting like a jealous, controlling boyfriend right now.” I’m being irrational and I know it, but my temper has taken control and I just can’t deal with any of this right now. I rise on unsteady legs. “You know what, I think I’m going to head on home. Will you tell my parents for me?”

  Ryder shakes his head. “Don’t do this, Jemma. Don’t storm off like you used to do.” He stands and reaches for my arm, but I shrug off his touch.

  “I’m not storming off. I just…I’m getting a headache. I need some time to think, that’s all.” I head toward the steps leading down to the driveway, Ryder trailing behind.

  “I’ll walk you home,” he offers.

  I shake my head resolutely. “I really just want to be alone right now.”

  He lets out a huff of frustration. “Fine, Jemma. Whatever.”

  I realize with a start that he sounds like the old Ryder, the one who used to get annoyed by everything I said or did. And suddenly I’m back to the old Jemma, getting mad and taking off. Second verse, same as the first.

  Forcing myself to shake off that uncomfortable feeling—that sense of déjà vu—I turn and head toward home.

  Chapter 5

  The next afternoon, I’m lounging on the sleeping porch with Lucy and Morgan, all of us piled onto the bed, snuggled under a fluffy down duvet. The cats have joined us—Kirk, Spock, and Sulu—lolling about, stretching and licking themselves. I absently scratch Spock, who’s snuggled beside me, causing him to purr loudly in appreciation.

  Luckily, I’ve managed to avoid my mom since last night’s debacle. I’d already gone to bed by the time she’d come home from the Marsdens’ house last night, and she’d gotten up before me to go to work at the library today, so I’m safe until close to five o’clock.

  Ryder and I are also doing a good job of avoiding each other. He’d sent me his usual “Goodnight, I love you,” text last night and I’d answered in kind, but we haven’t spoken at all today. Which is kind of a bummer since it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.

  “What do you expect?” Lucy asks. “Ryder’s a dick. He’s always been a dick.”

  “Yeah, but he’s her dick,” Morgan answers with a grin.

  “Ha, ha, very funny.” I let out a sigh. “What’s weird is that things were fine in New York. Really good, actually.”

  “Yeah, because you didn’t have to see his sorry ass every day,” Lucy says with an eye roll.

  I pl
ayfully punch her in the arm. “Hey, he’s not that bad. C’mon, you know you love him. Admit it.”

  “Okay, fine. Maybe I do. Though ‘love’ is a little too strong of a word. I like him—when he’s not being a total jackass to one of my besties.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a smug smile.

  “The boy does have a kick-ass body, I’ll give him that,” Lucy adds.

  “And a kick-ass mind, too,” I remind her. “It’s ridiculous how smart he is. All those physics and math classes, and he’s probably making the Dean’s List this semester.”

  “So, that’s what turns you on, huh?” Morgan asks. “The Dean’s List?”

  “Hey, don’t knock it,” I answer with a grin. “Smart is sexy.”

  Lucy rolls her eyes dramatically. “What about your classes?” she asks me. “How are they going?”

  “They’re great—a lot of fun, actually. Especially my animation class. What about y’all?”

  Morgan—who’s majoring in elementary education—shrugs. “School’s school. I have some great professors, though.”

  Lucy nods. “Yeah, me too. My classes are tough, but not nearly as hard as I thought they’d be.” She’s studying engineering—Lucy was always one of those people who liked to take things apart and put them back together again. “And remember Ellie Thompson?” she continues. “She went to middle school with us, and then moved away freshman year? She’s in our dorm! Lives right down the hall from us. She’s in my English comp class. Still as sweet as ever.”

  “Wow, that’s so cool! I totally remember her.” Pretty dark-haired girl with glasses. She cheered with us in middle school, and had her birthday party at the zoo one year because she has a thing for monkeys. We were all sad when she moved down to the coast. “So, what should we do this afternoon?” I ask, pulling out my phone to check it.

  Nope, no texts or calls from Ryder. I guess he’s still mad at me for taking off last night.

  “I told Mason we’d meet up with him and the guys at Ward’s later.” Morgan pulls her hair back into a ponytail, pulling off the band she always wears on her wrist to secure it. “Hope that’s okay.”