Handcuffs, Kisses and Awkward Situations: Mystery Romance

by Olivia Harvard

  He walked over towards the cupboards next and pulled out a bag. “Now we’re talking. I know exactly what to have for dinner.”

  I never expected to have s’mores for an evening meal. I had always pictured myself surrounded by friends as we circled around a fire, telling ghost stories as we roasted marshmallows. But never would I have thought I’d be in Ryder’s living room,, sitting on a pile of cushions as I hunched over a fireplace.

  I stuck my long fork into the flickering flames of the fire and watched as the marshmallow slowly turned from a spongy ball into a toasted hot mess. After I scraped the sticky remains of the ‘mallow onto a cracker and topped it off with a piece of chocolate, I shoved half of it into my mouth.

  “Slow down, yeah?” Ryder said, raising an eyebrow at me.

  Feeling slightly embarrassed, I snapped, “Shut up.”

  Ryder just shook his head, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile. I slowed down my eating after that and went through another three s’mores without Ryder making any comments about my rude eating habits. I rested my head back against the couch and closed my eyes, feeling completely satisfied.

  I don’t know how long my eyes were closed for, but when I returned my gaze back down, I caught Ryder studying me. His expression showed nothing of interest. Instead, he seemed slightly confused as he tried to figure something out, searching my face for something, like he was lost and the contours of my face were directions on a map that would lead him to the right destination. His eyebrows knitted together as he concentrated further.

  “What?” I said, being the first to look away as I reached over and cupped my mug of hot chocolate in my hands.

  “I just don’t understand anymore, Nora,” he answered.

  “About what?” I questioned, looking down at the rich chocolate pool of goodness before taking a sip. The warm liquid ran through my entire body.

  “Lots of things,” Ryder replied, eyes narrowing at me as he thought. “You, me, us…” He paused for a moment, then quickly added, “Just stuff. Okay? Stuff.Lots of stuff.”

  It had been a really long day. A really long and confusing day and it was comforting to know that Ryder was just as muddled as I was. Or did it just make it a whole lot complicated? If he was just as uncertain as I was about what had happened earlier in the day, was there a stronger possibility that he had considered that we experienced some sort of weird moment?

  Oh, God.

  As if we were both thinking about the same thing, we exchanged looks and quickly looked away from each other, cringing. “Look, Nora, what happened in the change rooms… It meant nothing, okay?” he said, as he looked away and seemed to think.

  “Um, gross. Why would I think it would mean anything?” I quickly replied, flippantly tossing my hand in his direction for emphasis. I added a little snort just in case I didn’t prove my point.

  “Good,” he answered, frowning as he let out one of his famous grunts. Grunts that apparently translated into English, considering it was how most guys communicated with each other.

  “Yeah. Good.”

  We kind of just sat there in silence for a few minutes, the whole topic being dropped. Although the conversation had been dismissed, I still thought about it. It meant nothing to me. I knew that. It was just a stupid little incident.

  Then why couldn’t I stop thinking about it?

  Fourteen

  The next morning, I felt something wet brush up against my butt. Since the Collins liked warm nights, they had left the heat running and I had changed into a pair of cotton shorts before I went to sleep. And feeling something curl up under my shorts and lick the bare skin of my butt totally creeped me out. But what freaked me out even further was that once I felt it, I heard Mrs. Collins’ voice extremely near.

  Oh my God… Mrs. Collins just licked my butt…

  But it wasn’t her, of course. Thank It was just the family dog, Biscuit. He had gotten a lot older since the last time I saw him. Well, considering it had been almost six years, I didn’t exactly blame him. When I used to go over to Ryder’s house, Biscuit would always hang out with us in their backyard or come with us on walks, but now, the old Lab looked just about worn out.

  Sitting up from my place on the floor, I scratched behind his ears. We had decided it was only fair that Ryder got to sleep in his bed because it was his house. He was reluctant at first, probably calculating whether I’d hold a grudge about it once I got a sore back or something, but I guess he was as sleepy as me when we finally agreed.

  My movements to scratch behind his dog’s ears made Ryder stir in his sleep and after a few seconds of shuffling, he let out a sleepy groan and looked down at us. He smiled weakly at his dog and he too reached over and patted the top of Biscuit’s shaggy head.

  “Glad you’re up.”

  I had almost forgotten that Mrs. Collins was standing in the room. I instantly felt kind of undressed once I saw her standing dominantly in her ridiculously expensive-looking work heels, hands on her hips. She was wearing a black business dress, but it was classy enough to wear on a night out, completed with a string of gleaming pearls around her neck. I felt so unsophisticated and naked in my cotton ducky pyjamas.

  “There’s a street party being held tonight on the main road,” Mrs. Collins said, looking at her son. “As you know, we have a certain… responsibility to participate in these events.”

  That was true. The Collins family always contributed to street parties and community events. It was mostly Mr. Collins doing. He loved socialising and entertaining the town. And a few years into their passionate response to their community service, the family was awarded a permanent position on the community organisation team. But when the word got out about Mr. Collins’ outrageous affair, their enthusiasm to participate dimmed. Everyone was hesitant in suggesting to the family to retire their occupation on the team, but Mrs. Collins refused to withdraw. She knew the town was feeling sympathetic for her and because her husband left her for a younger woman and was aware everyone considered the family to be broken. However, with her high status and prestigious profession as a successful business woman, she regarded the loss of her husband lightly to her peers and insisted the family tradition to stay strong. Although she acted tough around everyone, I knew a part of her still felt uncomfortable about contributing to something her husband was so enthusiastic about. And I knew how much she depended on her son to keep up their reputation.

  “I know.” Ryder sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, making it even messier. He knew what his mother was going to say and was aware that it was a delicate subject. I suddenly felt awkward being in the room with the intensity of emotions stirring in the air.

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Collins did something between a constipated face and a smile and I figured it was as the closest expression she could get to thankful.

  She turned and shut the door behind her, leaving a moody Ryder and a really awkward me. I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there with Biscuit and stared into his big, dark eyes. Since he had gotten so old, they looked slightly murky, like a mist had swept over his irises. There was no doubt that because of that, he was experiencing sight difficulty, but I wondered if the aged dog knew what had happened to his family.

  Biscuit, watching me stare at him in thought, attacked my face with slobbery kisses. I squirmed out of his ticklish and sloppy grasp and gently pushed his nose away. He jumped on the bed after that to see if Ryder was interested in playing, but when he saw his master’s face, staring blankly at nothing in particular, he walked to the end of the bed and just sat there, head in his paws.

  I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure if I was just supposed to ignore it or take it lightly and make a joke so he can laugh. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to comfort him or talk about it. Back when we were kids, I would have just hugged him. But now that we were older and different and definitely hated each other, I was at a loss. Besides, the handcuffs would have made the hug difficult.

  Thankfully, R
yder turned and spoke. “We should get ready. We have a lot to do.”

  ~♥♥♥~

  Ryder decided we’d make melting moments for the street party and sell them for a dollar each. So when we had gotten out all the ingredients and laid them out on the bench table, we decided we’d have a competition to see who could bake the best batch. It was pretty lame, but we had quite a few batches to make and the thrill of a rivalry was exhilarating enough to keep us entertained throughout the morning.

  “Three-quarter cup of plain flour,” I read from the laminated recipe that rested between us.

  Scanning the bench for all the bags and containers filled to their brims with white powder, I frowned. I had no idea there were so many things that looked exactly the same. I leaned over and tried to read their labels: cornflour, self-rising flour, barley flour, cake flour. I squinted at the row of buckets before me.

  Ryder sighed, reached over and flicked me before grabbing a container from behind the rest and dumping it in front of me. All the time I had wasted on trying to find the plain flour, he had already measured his ingredients and was getting the electric mixer ready.

  “I’m gonna kick your ass with this baking crap,” Ryder said triumphantly as he plugged in the mixer. “I’m already dominating you…”

  Ryder continued to gloat about how amazing he was and while I listened and snorted at the appropriate moments and pulled faces at his words, I hadn’t realised that I was overflowing my cup with flour.

  “Nora!”

  I was so startled by his sudden outburst that I jumped half a metre into the air and let out a small scream, the bag of flour puffing out some of its contents as I leapt. I coughed as a cloud of powder blurred my vision and while spluttering like a cigarette addict, I tried dumping the bag back onto the table. But to my absolute luck, I missed and the bag dropped to the floor, flour skittering across the Collins’ kitchen like dry snow.

  Everything that came after that was a fast blur. Biscuit came charging to the rescue, looking fragile but determined as he sprinted into the kitchen. He reached us and noticed the flour on the floor, but it was too late. His paws struggled to regain his balance as he went sliding across the slippery floor and knocked right into the back of Ryder’s knees, causing him to lose his balance as he buckled. Ryder let out a startled sound as he hastily grabbed something to help his poise. But instead of taking hold of the bench, he grasped his mixing bowl in his hands. It didn’t do anything to help his posture so he fell to the dirty floor, taking the bowl and me down with him. He swore as he landed, letting out a grunt as I clumsily fell on top of him.

  We were an awkward tangle of limbs. Due to the handcuffs, our arms were at the weirdest of angles and it was extremely uncomfortable. Looking up, I saw Biscuit whose casual gliding across the floor had stopped. He just lay there, looking exhausted.

  Then my eyes returned back to Ryder. Flour had powdered throughout his hair and his face was covered in sticky, buttery batter. His eyes looked into mine and I instantly lost myself. I felt my heart spike and I wondered if he could feel it this time since we were pressed chest to chest. The beats quickened, pounding against me and my mind fogged until Ryder was my only focus and our surroundings had bled into nothingness.

  It was the boys’ locker room incident all over again, but this time, I didn’t have any reasonable explanation. No footballs to the head, no indescribable smells, no hot steamy air to inhale. In the end, I had the most unthinkable, ridiculously impossible reason to why I was feeling the way I was.

  I was falling for Ryder.

  But why? That was my next question and I was determined to figure out why all these emotions were suddenly storming within me. We had spent almost four whole days together and that left no time for me to develop feelings for him. If anything, I expected to hate him more. He was irritable and stubborn and drove me absolutely crazy sometimes. But maybe I had been mistaking my hate for the complete opposite. Perhaps I was in denial and was only now realising the truth.

  Ryder’s hand on my waist broke me away from my thoughts. His grip was warm and gentle as his thumb gently drew circles on my side as he held me there, searching my eyes. All feelings of discomfort drained from me and suddenly, even though my arm was in a position that looked like it was totally broken, I felt completely content and safe. Like his embrace would protect me from anything.

  Our hands that were handcuffed found each other, and slowly, even though it was a struggle with the restraint from the cuffs, his fingers fell between mine. His hand was warm and had a surprising roughness. I searched his face as he held me timidly, as he were afraid I might just shatter if he squeezed too tightly.

  It was stupid.

  I could feel his racing heartbeat. Or maybe it was mine.

  Really stupid.

  His hand was just so damn warm.

  Stupid.So stupid.

  The way he smiled at me was unforgettable.

  Stupid.

  But I did it anyways.

  I allowed myself to fall.

  Fifteen

  “Nora,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the inside of my palm.

  “Yeah?” It came out quieter than I had intended.

  “We should get up.”

  “Okay.”

  Although I had agreed to his suggestion, neither of us moved. Instead, we stayed where we were, silently staring at each other, so many words unspoken between us. His thumb traced designs across my hand, warmth soaking into my veins and spreading through my body. I wondered if he was aware of his touch. I wondered if he knew what it was doing to me.

  I could have asked. I should have asked.

  But instead, Biscuit barked. He scrambled up and started to clumsily make his way toward the front door, paws still stained with dry ingredients. A moment later, there was a knock.

  “We should get that,” he mumbled distractedly,eyes focused on mine, rather than the direction of the door. “Okay, how should we do this?”

  “Maybe--”

  Ryder didn’t wait for me to answer him. Instead, he tried moving us both, but all it caused was a head collision. We both let out pained groans and collapsed back onto the floor. And even though we both had throbbing heads, we laughed.

  “Sorry,” Ryder said through fits of laughter, “I’m so sorry.”

  He reached up and gently cupped his free hand against my cheek, leaning in and planting his lips onto my forehead. The kiss was the softest of things, but it ignited every nerve in my body.

  Ryder must have realised the tenderness in the moment and the fact that he had just kissed me so casually, or maybe he had just acknowledged the fact that we hadn’t exchanged a snarky comment all day. Either way, a combination of confusion and surprise crossed his features.

  The knock got louder.

  “One second!” Ryder called, frowning, as if he had just realised he had a visitor.

  We didn’t look at each other after that. Instead, we wordlessly managed to stand up, after a couple of painful twists and weird positions. Someone was still pounding on the door and Biscuit continued to bark. Ryder seemed irritated by the time we got to the door. He threw it open with more force than necessary.

  “Check it out, dude,” Caine said triumphantly, holding up a box of donuts. “Five dollars at Woolworths.” Then he looked at us. “What the hell happened to you two?”

  Ryder’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He looked over at me, saw the disaster that exploded on my face, and reached over, gently running his thumb over the side of my nose to wipe off some flour. We were both startled by the gesture. Ryder quickly pulled away as we exchanged wide-eyed expressions, before we both faced Caine, who was now looking at us with raised eyebrows.

  “Anyway,” he said, pushing past us, “I bought these for the street fair.” We followed him into the kitchen and watched him examine the mess. “And this is why I didn’t attempt to make anything. What’s it even supposed to be?” Caine picked up the bowl from the floor, stuck his finger into the
remaining batter and ate it.

  “Melting moments,” Ryder and I said in unison.

  We looked at each other like someone just told us we’d have to amputate a leg each.

  “Aw, aren’t you two just two peas in a pod,” Caine said, laughing. It seemed a little uncomfortable, but I didn’t get to see his expression to confirm my suspicions because he took the bowl away and clapped Ryder on his shoulder on his way into the living room.

  “You have no idea,” Ryder muttered under his breath.

  ~♥♥♥~

  Caine stuck around for another hour and even after he left, we continued and finished baking, cleaned the kitchen, and changed to get ready for the street party. Once on the main road, located by the lake, we were allocated a stall space that was set up in advance. All we had to do was line up our melting moments on the table provided and wait for tourists and community members to stop close by.

  Stalls lined the closed street, glowing with vibrant colours and cooing customers. Next to us, a woman selling homemade woollen clothes items was helping a lady pick between two beautifully designed mittens and on the other side of our stall was a man retailing fresh fruits and vegetables. Each little stand had something beautiful and homemade. From people painting designs on people’s converse sneakers to sparkling pieces of jewellery and warm, sweet treats, the street party had it all.

  Caine turned up about half an hour into business. So far, we had only sold ten, but we were against some pretty tough competition. People were cooking everything: sweet and sour, hot and cold, soft and hard. So when Caine rolled up to our stall, he saw us, grinned and gave Ryder one of those ridiculously strange guy handshakes that I will never understand.

  To me, he simply regarded me with a nod that I returned. Then he scuttled away towards Ryder and they started talking about pointless stuff, like how many chillies they could stuff into their mouths before screaming for mercy. I, on the other hand, kept an eye on the traffic of people as their eyes scanned across stalls for anything of interest.