The Rush (The Siren Series) - By Rachel Higginson Page 0,109
of the heavy pan and immediately added some to my plate before passing it to Ryder.
Ryder looked at me for a moment, hands filled with hot frying pan and serving spoon, before he dug a huge spoonful out and added it to my plate. My mouth gaped open with chagrin and I whipped my head around to say something about women’s rights and knowing my own body but he wasn’t looking at me and I didn’t want to make a scene in front of his dad and uncle.
The food continued to be passed around and soon my plate was heaping with homemade goodies. I had never even had biscuits and gravy before. I’d seen it on other people’s plates, but you can eat a great breakfast without ever being subjected to that kind of greasy calorie fest. I would have passed on it altogether, but Ryder lifted a ladle full of gravy to dump all over my plate, eggs, bacon and all, so I took back the spoon and added it myself. Now the thick, white gravy was mixing with my fresh cut cantaloupe and pineapple and I wasn’t sure exactly what to do.
“So Ivy, tell us a little about yourself,” Ryder’s dad, Nate, asked from over a fork full of eggs.
I felt the attention of everyone in the room like a blinding spotlight. I hated questions like this, and Ryder stayed so still and quiet next to me I realized he was just as interested in what I was going to say as his dad. If not more interested…. he was no help at all.
“Um, I’m not sure what to say,” I admitted. “I go to school with Ryder at um, Central. And I’m a junior…. I’ve never had a breakfast like this before, it’s really incredible. I can’t believe you eat like this every Saturday.”
Deflecting the attention from myself to the food worked and everyone laughed at the insane amount of food on the table.
“Well, it’s not always like this,” Matt spoke up. “Ryder begged for the works this morning though. I think he was trying to make a good impression.”
Ryder jerked at his uncle’s words and gave me a sheepish, embarrassed smile, “I just wanted to make sure there was something you liked. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Oh, no it wasn’t a big deal,” Matt covered, realizing he had said something that made Ryder and me uncomfortable. “I’m just giving Ryder a hard time.” His easy grin was one I had seen on Ryder’s face probably a hundred times in our short friendship and I didn’t even think about it, I just returned it.
Nate cut back in, probably hoping to take the awkward attention off his son, “So you play the piano well, Ivy. Are your parents musical?”
“It’s just my mom,” I offered casually. “And she does play. It’s kind of a tradition in our family. She made me start when I was really young.”
“That’s great,” Nate nodded along. “I always appreciate when a parent takes solid interest in their children’s musical educations. She probably loves the band then? A practical use for all that talent, it’s got to make her proud.”
Unease filtered over my skin and I dropped my eyes to the plate of food I hardly touched. “Actually, my mom doesn’t really understand anything but the classics. I was classically trained with Bach and Mozart, she hates anything composed beyond the nineteenth century, save maybe for Sibelius.”
“Really?” Nate practically choked on his breakfast. “So she never let you play anything jazz? Blues? Contemporary?”
I hid a smile and shook my head. “Nothing current. And especially nothing jazz.”
“Just for the piano though, right?” Nate pressed and he seemed more like Ryder than ever before. “You’ve heard Gershwin? Duke Ellington?”
I gave him a blank look although I had heard the names before and his entire body sagged with the news. Ryder chuckled next to me and put a reassuring hand on my knee under the table. My heart started pounding double time at the small contact, but he simply squeezed my knee cap and then removed his hand like it was no big deal. Because it wasn’t a big deal- at all.
“You’ll have to forgive my brother,” Matt interrupted. “He’s a bit of a fanatic when it comes to contemporary music.”
“No kidding,” Ryder groaned.
All three men broke out into big smiles then. I shot Ryder a questioning look and he rolled his eyes before explaining, “I’m named after a Van Morrison song.”