“I feel like a badass,” she laughs, coming to stand next to me. “Well, just with the shooting part. Not the extra handling stuff.”
“You should be proud of yourself. This is your first day, and you're doing better than everyone else.”
“Except me,” Gramps inserts, making Ryan giggle. I can already tell that he likes her.
“Yeah, except you.”
Gramps walks over and puts an arm around her shoulders. “Darlin', you sure have surprised me. Lookin' sweet and innocent with your age, but you're a firecracker. Keepin' us all on our toes. I hope Gabriel keeps you around.”
Ryan blushes, the second time I've ever seen her do that. “I hope so too, Mr. O'Connor.”
“Might as well call me Gramps, darlin'.”
“Gabe, you're up,” Owen tells me, as my father prepares the skeet thrower.
In the background, I hear them talking. Owen, in particular.
“You know, it's totally possible that we could be dating too.”
Ryan laughs. “You might be close to me in age, but you're still too young. You're cute though.”
My brother groans. “Cute? That's a dude's worst nightmare.”
I fire at the skeet, hitting it just in time to hear Ryan's response.
“You're cute as a button,” she teases. “Shooting a gun like what we're doing makes you hotter though, if that helps.”
Faintly, as I take my next shot, I wonder if she means that with me as well. “Don't tell my brother lies, Ryan,” I say as I walk back over to them. “I'm the best looking man in the family.”
Gramps laughs louder than everyone else. “If you were, you'd be married by now. You and Owen are the only ones left who aren't married. Owen's too young, so he doesn't count.”
“Maybe he wants to play the field,” Owen says. “Y'all are stuck with one chick for the rest of your lives. Maybe Gabe doesn't want to settle down yet. I wouldn't. Although, with the way Ryan looks, it wouldn't be too bad to have her for the rest of my life.”
“Owen,” I chide in disbelief, but Ryan laughs.
“Leave him alone, Gabe. That was a compliment. Suggestive for a sixteen year old, but still. Can you blame him?”
Before I can answer, Owen bursts, “You've already slept with her?”
God, what is wrong with him today? He's acting worse than usual. All eyes are on me, waiting for me to confirm or deny. Especially my father. He's been quiet, but he's been listening. Ryan watches me, waiting as well.
“Don't y'all know it's rude to talk about this in front of Ryan?”
“Better you say it in front of me than behind my back. Topic doesn't matter,” she inputs.
“Yes, but we're supposed to be gentlemen.”
Before anything else can be said, my father clears his throat. “Enough. We're out of ammo and skeets. Time to pack up. My wife is fixing supper as usual, if y'all want to head there.”
That's my father's way of testing me. To see how serious this thing is with Ryan and if I'm ready for her to meet my mother. “We already have plans. Thanks, though.” Everyone here, regardless of if we have plans or not, knows what it means for me to decline. Including Ryan. I almost feel guilty, like I announced, not to just her, but to everyone that she isn't good enough. It isn't that though. With my mother, I want to be sure it's something serious before she meets the girl. Her opinion matters to me and if it isn't serious, there's no point in them meeting. Yet. Plus, I think Ryan has had enough of my family for one day.
Ryan is quiet as we all get everything together. Once that is done, we start saying our goodbyes, Ryan being polite with everyone. She seems to mean it when she says it was nice to meet them. With the exception of my father. I honestly wasn't expecting him to behave as he has, and I'll have to ask him about that later. Everyone starts getting in their vehicles and driving away. Ryan is leaning against the passenger door. I walk over to her.
“You know, you looked really hot earlier.”
“And I don't now?”
She laughs. “Oh, you most certainly do. Thanks for today. I had fun, but next time, I think I rather it just be us the entire time.”
“Okay. We can arrange that. Are you ready?”
She nods, so I open the door for her. We're going to make a stop by my place, so I can put the guns away. I realize that Ryan's never been there before, and I wonder if she'll like it. We pull into my driveway of my one story brick home. It's a simple two bedroom house, just big enough for me. Nothing special about it except it's mine. I ask Ryan to unlock the door for me as I gather everything. She holds the door open for me, and I go into the spare bedroom, where I store my guns. I'll have to clean them later.
I thought Ryan followed me, but when I turn around, she isn't in the room. Once I put everything safely back in it's place, I go looking for her. She's in the living room, running her fingers along the mantel over the fireplace, looking at the pictures. There are some of me from high school in my football uniform, some of me with family, and some from when I graduated. I lean against the frame of the wall and watch her. She picks up one, the one with my family, and runs her fingers over a figure.
There's a small smile on her face as she sets it back, perfectly in place. Ryan turns then, sees me, and jumps.
“Oh, I, uh, didn't know you were standing there. You have a nice house.”
“Thank you.”
She seems nervous for some reason. She clasps her hands in front of her, lightly rocking on her heels. Her eyes jump from me to down at her hands. “Do you,” she starts, but stops abruptly. Her hands fidget and as if she realizes she looks nervous, she yanks them apart, stuffing them into her pockets. “Are you ready?” She finally asks.
“What were you going to say?” I'm curious as to what made her anxious.
Ryan narrows those green eyes, folding her arms over her chest defensively. “Nothing.”
I push off the wall and walk over to her, resting my hands on her hips. “Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?” My head tilts as I watch her fight herself over whatever it is.
“Because I changed my mind.”
“About?”
“If I wanted to tell you, I would have done that already,” she says exasperated.
“So you want me to take you home now?” C'mon, Ryan. Tell me what it was. She doesn't say anything right away, which I take as an opportunity. I swiftly pull her flush against me, causing her to inhale sharply with surprise. She keeps her arms crossed over her chest though. With my lips brushing against hers as I speak, I ask, “Sure you don't want to tell me? Ask me whatever it was?” My hands move to her lower back and down over her ass.
Ryan pushes me away, coming out of my hold. “Don't tease me if you aren't going to go through with it, Gabe. And we both know that won't happen.” She's hostile towards me all of a sudden, and I don't understand why. Because last time I said I wouldn't sleep with her until it was more than just sex? It does make me feel bad that I tried to seduce it out of her.
“What's going on, Ryan?” I hesitantly ask.
She shakes her head. “Just take me home.”
I would bet a thousand dollars that she's been thinking, and the girl thinks entirely too much. She's a rambler, verbally and mentally. Giving up, I hold my hands up in surrender.
“Let's go then.”
She brushes past me and is out the door by the time I turn around. What in the world has her mind got her thinking now? I lock the door and get into the car. Once we're back on the road, I see Ryan turn towards me from the corner of my eye.
“You know what? I'll tell you. Not because you asked, but because I'm not the kind of girl to get nervous over a guy,” she says it like it's the worst thing in the world. There is conviction and determination in her voice as she continues. “I refuse to behave any differently. I was going to ask you if you wanted to spend the night again, but I changed my mind. You are a good guy with a happy family, and that's awesome. I'm not that girl though. I want to have
sex on first dates, if I choose. I want to have as much fun as possible before I finish college and officially have to grow up and morph into a more suitable person for society. You're wasting your time, Gabe, and I don't want you to do that.
“And I realize that I sound like a guy with all the sex talk, and I realize I probably should have more respect,” she does air quotes, “for myself than to sleep with whoever I want. It's not about self-respect. It's about me being able to do anything a guy can do, even if that makes me a slut. Excuse me for liking sex. I mean, I haven't slept with anyone since you, and I'm not used to guys turning me down. That's part of my frustration. My point is that you're a nice, good guy, and it's not that I don't think I'm not good enough for somebody, because I am, but we're not a match. Even if you see more to me, I still don't understand it. Especially if we're not sleeping together. What's the point?”
Wow. Okay. I repeat what she said in my mind, trying to process everything because it was a lot. Without thinking, I ask, “Why are you so insecure about this?”
A glance at her shows me her wide eyes. I cringe when she responds, her voice too high for the inside of my car. “Insecure?! You think I'm insecure? I am not insecure. I am confident with who I am to myself. I like myself just fine, thank you very much. The problem is that everyone else doesn't like that person. Not enough to actually care anyway,” she finishes as I pull into the parking lot. As soon as I park, she gets out and storms to the stairs.
“You do realize that means you're insecure?” I say despite my gut instinct when I reach her as she unlocks her door.
Her back is rigid, and I've definitely hit a nerve. I've never seen Ryan so tense. She swings open the door, sees something inside, her shoulders dropping. “Oh, for fuck's sake. What are you doing here? How did you get inside?”
I peek around her shoulders to see an older woman with similar features.
“Your father and I pay for this place. Did you honestly think we wouldn't have a key? And watch your mouth, Ryan.” Her mother smiles upon seeing me and adds, “Who is this?”
“This is Gabe,” she says reluctantly. “Why are you here, Mom?” She repeats before anything can be said.
“Don't be rude, Ryan. Introduce me to your boyfriend.”
Ryan steps inside, angrily tossing her house keys onto the table. “He's not my boyfriend, Mom. I'm too un-ladylike for a boyfriend, remember?”
Her mother ignores her and walks over to me, shaking my hand. “I'm Mrs. Kavanaugh, Ryan's mother. It's nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you as well. I'll catch you later, Ryan?”
“Oh, no. Come on in.”
“No!” Ryan yells, swiveling to face us. “Don't subject him to whatever it is you're here for.”
“I insist,” Mrs. Kavanaugh says, tugging me inside. “I won't be here long.” Speaking to Ryan, she continues, “You weren't answering my phone calls, and I was nearby for business, so I figured I would come see you.”
I'm forced to sit on the couch as Ryan paces, upset. “What the hell do you want, Mom?”
“Ryan,” she chides calmly, sitting down in the chair. “Language. I don't know why you're so upset. You should control your emotions better, dear.” This is so awkward. “I'm here to check on your progress with choosing a major. I hope you've made a decision that we can be happy with.” Them? What do they have to do with Ryan's future career?
Ryan hasn't relaxed in the least. “French. I want to major in French.”
Mrs. Kavanaugh's lips dip into a frown. “French? Why on earth would you want to do that?”
Ryan throws her hands up. “I just do! Why? What's wrong with that decision?”
“We were expecting better,” is all she says.
A harsh laugh falls from Ryan's mouth. “Better? You always want something better from me, but it's never good enough. What degree do you want me to have? Tell me! You decide! Because I'm too fucking incompetent to make that measly decision.”
“You are not a boy, so quit talking with such vulgarity.”
“You don't need to remind me, Mom,” Ryan cuts her off.
The tension is so thick in here between them, that I'm almost choking on it. Nothing seems to affect her mother, though. She's just as poised as ever.
“All I'm saying is that you could at least behave as a lady. You seem so stressed, dear. Are you sure you want to stay here? You can drop out and come home if it's too much. We would understand if it's like everything else you do and you just can't commit to it.”
What? She's encouraging Ryan to drop out of college?
“That would certainly please Dad, wouldn't it? Is there a particular date he has written down for when he thinks I'll fail at college too? I guess my 4.0 GPA means shit to y'all. College isn't stressing me out. You showing up here is stressing me out. You making Gabe sit here is stressing me out. Do I not stress out properly, Mom? Should I sit down, cross my legs, and act as if I'm not fucking stressed?” Ryan takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm herself down. “Why don't you just leave, talk with Dad, pick a degree you would be happy with, and let me know. By phone.”
“Ryan,” her mother starts in what she's attempting to be a soothing voice.
“Stop talking to me like I don't have any sense!”
Mrs. Kavanaugh abruptly stands. “Enough, Ryan. Your outbursts are uncalled for. Is this what college has done to you? Are we paying for this?” She motions her hand, up and down at Ryan. “You come out here to tarnish your body with those god-awful, ridiculous tattoos. You waste money on clothes for parties. Based on the timestamp of charges on the credit card bill, you're out at all hours of the night. And now you're dating an older man,” she flings her arm out to point at me, “and you pick a major in French? We had to force you to learn Spanish! What makes you think you want to learn and speak French? Pick something more respectable. At least appreciate all the money your father and I spend, so you don't have to work and go to college.” Her voice turns deadly serious. “Do something worthwhile for a change, Ryan.”
Ryan has stopped, frozen, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I'm fluent in Spanish,” she says calmly. “My tattoos aren't awful or ridiculous because they mean something to me.” Her voice cracks on the last word.
“What could they possibly mean?” Mrs. Kavanaugh interrupts. “A dandelion, a hummingbird, and a seahorse? Those things mean something to you?”
Ryan's lips part, and she looks like her mother just slapped her. Hurt is in every one of Ryan's features. Her lips quiver as she tries not to cry.
Adding another blow, Mrs. Kavanaugh says, “I'll discuss with your father what degrees are acceptable. This isn't like when you were a teenager and you can pick something, lose interest, and quit. We will not waste money for you to fail or quit or get more meaningless tattoos. Understood?”
Ryan nods. Her fight vanished the moment her mother said something about her tattoos.
“Good.” She turns and leaves without another word.
The second the door closes, Ryan runs into her room, a sob escaping. What in the world did I just witness? I can figure it out later. Right now, I'm going to comfort Ryan. She's lying on her stomach, her crying muffled by her pillow. I sit on the edge of her bed.
“Go away,” she cries.
“No.”
Despite her protest, I lay down next to her on my side and tug her against me. She doesn't fight me. Ryan comes easily, burying her face in the crook of my neck as her shoulders shake, her tears falling from her face onto me.
“Shh,” I soothe, running a hand up and down her back.
It doesn't do any good. She cries for thirty minutes before sputtering to a stop. My shirt is bunched in her hands and with her grip, I wouldn't be surprised if her hands are cramping.
“I'm sorry I cried on you,” she mumbles into my neck. “I'm fine now, though. You can go.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask carefully. She nods, but doesn't answer. “Then why are you clinging to my shirt still? It's fine
, Ryan. I'm not going anywhere and you don't have to pretend that you're all better.”
She's quiet for a moment. Her voice cracks as she whispers, “I hate them. I hate them so much.”
“I don't understand it, Ryan, but I don't want you to explain it to me. Not today. Unless you want to tell me.”
“I don't.” She pauses. “But I do.” Ryan pulls back to look at me, her eyes still glassy and her eyelashes wet. “I'm sorry you had to be here for that. No one has ever been around that before, and I don't know if I should explain or pretend it never happened.”
“Who do you talk to about your parents? Vivian?”
Ryan shakes her head. “No. Not really anyway. I don't want her to know more than basics. I mean, why would I want to subject anyone else to that? My mother had no problem saying all of those things in front of you, and she's never met you before today.” A tear spills over, and Ryan quickly wipes it away. “I'm sorry I yelled at you in the car. But do you see what I mean about everyone else not liking who I am? I disappoint everyone every single time. I'm never good enough. Do you understand now why I'm so damn confused?
“You're full of contradictions, Gabe. You're good, but you want me, the opposite. You like me, but you don't want to sleep with me again. You have a wonderful family, I don't. You're too old, I'm too young. And now you've seen how my mother is, and I don't want you here as a stupid knight in shining armor. I'm capable of saving myself and taking care of myself. I can do it. I don't need someone else to do it for me. I-”
“Stop talking, Ryan.” She clamps her mouth shut. “Just because you can do something yourself, doesn't mean you shouldn't ask for or accept help.”
She nods, seeming to accept what I said before she returns to my earlier comment from the car ride over. “I'm truly not insecure. At least, not the way I see it. I like who I am.” She sits up and folds her legs under herself, so I sit up to lean against the headboard. “Do I have low expectations about a lot of things? Probably so. I don't know if you overheard that night, but I am sort of easy. And I know that by sleeping with guys so quickly that they are less likely to stick around, which is fine. That really doesn't bother me. It makes things simple for me. Boys give me sex. Viv gives me friendship. College gives me an education. What more do I need right now?”
You Before Me Page 10