Not Without You

by Watson, A. P.

  “Relationship trouble then,” Ryan muttered more to himself than to Wren and me.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Sorry, I figured it was guy trouble, but I didn’t want to pry.”

  “Oh,” Wren breathed. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Figures. Men are dicks most of the time.”

  “Oh, so you’re gay?” I questioned. The way Ryan had been staring at me in class led me to believe he fell to the charms of the female population, so I couldn’t help but be curious.

  I blamed his eyes.

  “What?” His eyebrows pinched together as he shifted his attention from Wren to me. “I’m not gay.”

  “If you are, we don’t care. Actually, it will probably make us like you more.”

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I like pussy.”

  His reply caught me off guard. Those periwinkle irises held my gaze for a second before tearing through me like a damn power drill. “Um, I-I . . .” What the hell was I even going to say? I was not the type of woman to be at a loss for words, so this development was pretty strange for me. And Hottie’s looks were definitely responsible.

  Wren burst into a fit of laughter beside me. “Oh my God! You made her blush! Jesus Christ, Ter, I don’t think you’ve blushed since ninth grade.” She leaned across the table and held out her hand, giving Ryan a high five. “You are crass and awesome! We can be friends.”

  Ryan licked his lips and grinned like the freaking Cheshire cat. “Happy to have your approval.”

  Thank God, my embarrassing moment was cut short by the arrival of our food. Our waiter placed a plate in front of each of us before scurrying away.

  “Bacon!” Wren bounced with glee as she shoved a strip of crispy goodness into her mouth.

  “In the world of Wren, bacon makes everything better,” I explained.

  “I can see that. And in the world of Terayn, what makes everything better?”

  Usually, that answer was painting and Wren’s mom making me a chicken pot pie. But with my creative hiatus seeping into every part of my being, I was going to have to settle for baked goods. “Wren’s mom makes the best chicken pot pie I’ve ever had in my life.”

  “So, it makes everything in your life better?”

  “Pretty much.” I shrugged my shoulders and shoved an onion ring in my mouth as I watched Ryan devour his burger. “And what makes everything in your life better?”

  “Foodwise? A burger and fries. Not foodwise, I guess hitting the gym. It’s a good way to burn off steam.”

  “We can tell.”

  Wren snickered beside me, quickly shoving a bite of pancake into her mouth.

  “Thank you?”

  “Was that meant as a comment or a question?” I asked Ryan.

  “Both, I guess.”

  “Fair enough.”

  We finished the rest of our food, and I couldn’t help but be thankful for the distraction Ryan had given Wren. Her life had been turned upside down, so any excuse to forget the shit storm Liam had brought on her? I was all for it.

  Although, the part of my brain continuously stressing about my future career as an artist was thankful for the distraction as well.

  “UGH,” I HUFFED, UNLOCKING the door to my dorm room. Usually, I loved art history class, but today, the three-hour lecture felt like cruel and unusual punishment. My focus was wrecked, and I blamed the super attractive owner of a pair of blue eyes. A glance to my right informed me that Brooklyn and her boyfriend were already sitting on her bed and watching a movie.

  Shit.

  I nodded to them and tossed my messenger bag on the floor. If the boyfriend was over after ten, that meant I’d be sleeping with my headphones on again tonight. Falling asleep while listening to Deftones was an art form in and of itself. But I much preferred listening to their music than the sounds of my roommate and her man humping. Fuck this dorm. Tomorrow, I’d remember to snag a key to Wren’s new apartment. Even if she was at work, at least I could sleep in peace. When Liam fucked up her world last week, I tried everything I could to get out of my dorm situation, but unfortunately, I was locked in for the semester. On-campus housing was factored into my scholarship, but if I sweet-talked my dad just right, maybe he would be cool with me moving into Wren’s place.

  Grabbing a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, I headed into the bathroom Brooklyn and I shared with the room next to us. Four girls sharing one bathroom made for an interesting arrangement, but luckily, it wasn’t occupied. After scrubbing my hair and body, I coated every inch of skin with my favorite lotion and got dressed. I prayed there was still enough time to slide on my house shoes and grab my bag before Brooklyn and Joe lost any clothing. Last week, I almost got a full-frontal view of Joe’s junk. And that is one show I’d rather not see again.

  I raced back inside my room and grabbed my slippers, messenger bag, and phone at the speed of light. I didn’t even bother covering my feet until the door was shut behind me. Then I walked down to the first-floor common room, praying it would be empty.

  Despite being a dormitory, Lucille Langford Hall was still a beautiful building. Thick columns outfitted the front of the structure and the common room was drenched in dark mahogany wood. A flat-screen television occupied the far left corner of the room, a couch and two armchairs huddled around it, and a table and chairs by a fireplace sat on the right side. The other half of the large space housed an air hockey table and a ping-pong table. Thankfully, I had the whole room to myself. I plopped down at the table and spread out my statistics book and the dinner I’d picked up from Subway. I tried to avoid cooking in the kitchen on our floor after almost setting fire to macaroni and cheese the first month of the semester. To be honest, it took skill to be that shitty at cooking, and I happened to be excellent at it. Setting my phone and a bottle of water next to me, I dug in to my six-inch spicy Italian sub and a bag of chips. As I ate, I decided to send a quick text to check on Wren.

  Me: Hey babe, don’t let me forget, but tomorrow I need to get a spare key to your new place. I’m sick of listening to Brooklyn and Joe screw, so I figured I could crash at your place while you’re at work.

  Wren: I’m so sorry they’re going at it again, but we will get you a key tomorrow! Feel free to crash at my place any time you want!

  Me: Thanks babe! You the best!

  I accompanied my text with a string of hearts and other emojis.

  Wren: Welcome! And you know how I feel about too many emojis.

  Me: Whatever, you know you love me.

  Wren: True. Well, things just got hectic here, so I better let you go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you!

  Me: Love you too!

  Taking a sip of water, I cracked open my book and removed the notes Ryan had given me. I hadn’t noticed it at the time, but his name and number were scribbled at the top of the page with a short note.

  If you ever need help studying, just give me a call.

  The tips of my fingers rubbed over the words several times. Part of me expected the message to be a figment of my imagination, but when I removed my hand, his words were still there. Well, damn. His words from the diner rang in my head for the fiftieth time today. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I like pussy. I wasn’t the type of person who embarrassed easily, if at all. And two semesters of drawing the naked human form only further instilled that nature. But there was something so casual and sincere about Ryan’s reply that wrecked my composure.

  Perhaps it was because I wanted to introduce him to that part of my anatomy.

  Fuck.

  Sighing, I flipped over the notes and began reading over the chapters we had covered in class earlier today. I was three pages in when I decided to throw in the towel. The book might as well have been written in Greek for everything I could understand from it. I turned the notes back over and chewed on my thumbnail. It was already after eleven on a Wednesday night. Chances were he had an early class and wouldn’t reply anyway. Before I could second-guess myself, I typed out a quick message and presse
d send.

  Me: What the fuck is the Kirkwood approximation? And furthermore, are we sure it’s part of the English language? Because I can’t understand a single word of it. This is Terayn, by the way.

  I stared at the screen feeling like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth. He was acing this class, so why the hell would he want to spend time teaching a dunce like me? The initial answer my brain concocted was that he was a player trying to get into my pants. Not that there was anything wrong with that. I didn’t do relationships. Well, I didn’t do a lot of casual sex either, but if that floated someone’s boat, then who was I to judge? But the way Ryan had acted around Wren and I, along with the way he had made sure she got her pancakes and bacon, rebuked that answer entirely. I was about to pursue another line of reasoning when a reply lit up my phone.

  Ryan: I promise the Kirkwood approximation is written in English. But yes, it can be a tricky concept. Are you going over today’s lesson?

  Me: Yes, but I have no idea what I’m reading.

  Ryan: Do you need some help? I can come explain it if you want.

  If I chewed on my thumbnail any harder, I’d draw blood. Giving in to defeat, I decided to accept his offer. I had to pass this class. It was a required course, and once I made it through, I’d never have to think about the Kirkwood approximation ever again.

  Me: I would actually really appreciate some help if it’s not too much trouble. I live in Langford Hall and I’m downstairs in the common room. If you come to the main entrance, I’ll buzz you in.

  Ryan: Sounds good. Be there in fifteen.

  Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, I was letting Ryan into my dorm building.

  “Hey,” he said, breezing past me.

  I caught a whiff of his cologne as he came inside. And Jesus, it smelled delicious. “Hey.”

  “That’s your stuff on the table, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I stepped in front of him, taking note of his attire. He had on a zip-up hoodie and a tight pair of track pants. His hair looked damp as he ran a hand through the blond locks. He had that quintessential surfer guy thing going on, like he belonged on the walls of an Abercrombie & Fitch store.

  He scooted one of the chairs next to mine and took a seat. “So, where do you want to start?”

  “You pick. It’s not like I understand any of it anyway.”

  “Alright,” he replied with a laugh. “Let’s start with my notes and then we can use the book if there is something we need to look at in depth.”

  I nodded. “Okay.” I glanced down at my thin tank top and wished I hadn’t skimped on wearing a bra after my shower. And going back up to my room to grab a hoodie was absolutely out of the question. I’d be avoiding that fucking room until at least four.

  I listened as Ryan went over the first page of notes. He explained a few of the concepts, taking his time while covering the Kirkwood approximation. I was actually beginning to understand some of this shit, which for me, was a miracle. But as we reached the second page of notes, I was finding it hard to focus. I’ll never understand why the buildings on campus are boiling in the summer and freezing in the fall and winter, but I guess that was my scholarship money hard at work. Rubbing my hands over my arms, I tried to ignore how cold I was and shifted my attention back to Ryan.

  “You’re freezing. If you want to grab a jacket from your room, I’ll wait down here.”

  “I appreciate the thought, but there is no chance in hell I’m going back to my room.”

  “Why is that? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, but my roommate has her boyfriend over and I’d rather not walk in on them screwing.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yep. I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. I fall asleep listening to Deftones most nights.”

  “Deftones?”

  “They drown out the sound.”

  “I see. I figured you and Wren were roommates.”

  “God, I wish! That would be awesome! I’m going to get a key to her new apartment tomorrow, though, so whenever she’s at work, I’m gonna sleep at her place.”

  “She works nights?”

  “Yeah, she works as a tech at the hospital.”

  “That’s cool,” he answered, removing his jacket. “Here, put this on.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m not that cold. Don’t worry about it.”

  “You have goosebumps all over your arms.”

  I glanced at my fair skin, noting the raised bumps covering my flesh. “I’m okay.”

  Ryan shook his head and draped his jacket over my shoulders. The fabric was still warm from when he’d worn it, and I was hit with the scent of his cologne once more. “Thank you,” I said, sliding my arms through the long sleeves.

  “No problem.”

  When I looked up, his blue gaze was fixed on me, and for the second time today, my fingers itched to draw him. Too bad he wasn’t one of the models we were required to sketch in class last semester. My hands would’ve had a field day recreating the lean muscles in his arms and chest.

  “So,” he began, leaning toward me, “do you want me to go over discrete probability distribution again or do you think you’ve got it?”

  “One more time, if you don’t care.”

  “Of course.”

  I sighed loudly, feeling more like an idiot with every passing second. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you feel like you’re wasting your time.”

  “Hanging out with you is the furthest thing from a waste of my time.”

  “Are you trying to butter me up or something?”

  “Maybe . . . Why? Is it working?”

  “Maybe.”

  His deep laugh filled the otherwise empty room. “Good to know all my efforts aren’t in vain.”

  “Speaking of, I really appreciate everything you did for Wren today. She’s been through hell the past few weeks, and I know the three of us hanging out today was the most fun she’s had in a while.”

  “I’m just glad I could help,” he replied. “Was her ex a douche or something?”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “It’s not my story to tell, so that’s the only thing I’ll say, but yeah, Liam is a fucking douche nozzle.”

  “Relationships can be hell.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had firsthand experience.”

  “Something like that. I definitely know how it feels to be treated like shit.”

  I set my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” I replied with a light squeeze.

  “It is what it is.”

  “True that. Relationships aren’t worth the trouble if you ask me.”

  “So you’re anti-relationship?”

  “Just romantic ones. They only lead to trouble.”

  “I agree,” he said, catching me off guard.

  Most guys that I told about my aversion to relationships reacted one of two ways. Ecstatic because they thought it meant I was down to screw or frustrated as they tried to convince me that I do, in fact, believe in love. Both kinds of reactions annoyed the shit out of me. If I wanted to screw a guy, I would. And it’s not that I don’t believe in love, it’s more along the lines that I don’t like the effect it has on people. Love can ruin you, and I’ve lived through the destruction it can leave behind.

  My head tilted so that I could get a better look at him. “I thought you said at the diner you only have experience with family troubles.”

  “Well, watching all the shit my mom went through gave me a good perspective on relationship issues.”

  “What kind of shit?”

  “Thought we were supposed to be focusing on statistics?”

  “You’re right.” I usually wouldn’t let such an attempt at diverting a conversation slide, but the tone of his voice stopped me from pressing the subject any further. “Impart your wisdom on me, teach.”

  “I’ll try my best,” he countered, clearly teasing me.

  “Hey!”

  His
smirk informed me that he was very amused at my expense. “Only joking.”

  After two hours of incessant studying, I actually felt as if I’d learned something. Ryan was a good teacher, and he understood these concepts inside and out. Not to mention, the guy had the patience of a saint. When it came to stuff I didn’t understand, I tended to get frustrated pretty quick, but Ryan took his time explaining everything to me. He never once tried to rush me through something, and in my book, that earned him extra brownie points.

  “You know more than you think you do,” he said, stretching out his arms.

  “I’m glad one of us is confident in my knowledge.”

  “We can study again this weekend if you want.”

  I licked my lips and stuffed the notes he’d given me into my textbook. “I’d like that.”

  He grinned at me, the gesture barely crinkling the outer corners of his eyes. “Just let me know when. I’m free all weekend.”

  “Okay, I will,” I replied in a quiet voice. When he stood from the table, I realized I didn’t want him to leave. “Would you like to stay and watch a movie with me?” I motioned toward the corner with the flat-screen TV.

  “I don’t want to bother you.”

  I grinned and made my way to the couch. “If I thought you were a bother, I never would’ve asked.”

  “Alright, movie it is.”

  “Awesome.”

  I sat on the left side of the couch, my heart practically vibrating in my chest as he sat next to me. His arms stretched along the back of the couch, one resting behind my back. My spine stiffened. I wasn’t sure why, but his close proximity felt much more intimate than should be possible.

  “Are you still cold?” he asked. He leaned toward me, his hands rubbing up and down my arms as if he were trying to instill warmth in my body.

  In that moment, cold was the last thought in my mind. “Nope, not cold at all.” In fact, I was really fucking hot, and I had half a mind to share that heat with Hottie next to me.

  “I’m not going to start hitting on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I know that.”