by Amanda Cowen
“Okay. That’s enough.” I whisper to Ryan.
He looks at me intently, then leans closer. He reaches forward and gently places a stray hair behind my ear. The expression in his familiar brown eyes is indiscernible.
“Relax. Jonesy. Now you know Liam’s a bit of a jackass when he’s drunk. But if he gets too wasted, we can just send him home in a cab. Don’t be a Debbie Downer. The night is young!”
Right now, I am as annoyed with Ryan as I am with Liam. Liam will throw up all over the bar and humiliate himself if he keeps this up, and Ryan needs to stop buying him more shots. The art show may be over, and I know the venue has taken on a party atmosphere, but people I know from class are still here and are watching us. Plus, Liam was supposed to help me pack up my artwork. Now who will do that?
I glare at Ryan until he concedes. “Okay, fine. I promise to lay off the shots,” he smirks. “But other drinks are still fair game.”
Something about his nonchalant attitude makes my blood boil. I’m suddenly so angry, I want to throw my drink in his face. Instead, I pull back and stand up. When he sees he’s upset me, he gets up too.
He follows me to my art display on the other side of the room. I start packing up my paintings, ignoring his looming presence behind me.
“What? Are you mad?” he asks.
“Yeah, I am,” I say in a tight voice. “Liam was supposed to help me pack up tonight. And I asked you to stop feeding him alcohol, drinks included.”
“Liam is a grown man. He could have said no.”
I scowl at him. “‘In America, it’s considered an insult if you don’t accept a drink from a friend.’” I mimic his deep voice.
He lets out a short laugh. “Come back to the bar and have another drink.”
I become distracted by Maisie approaching us in a hurry, a concerned look on her face.
“Um… Liam is puking in the bathroom,” she says.
Great. I shoot daggers at Ryan. “What did you give him?”
“It’s not my fault he’s got the stomach of sorority girl.”
“Someone needs to get him home.” I run a hand over my face. “I’d bring him myself, but I can’t leave right now.”
Maisie bites her lower lip. “I’d stay and help you pack, but I’m a tad drunk, and probably completely useless.”
Ryan places his hand on Maisie’s shoulder. “You, Jayce and Kale can bring Aussie boy back to the apartment. Hurry up before he yaks on one of Jonesy’s paintings. I’ll stick around and help her pack up.”
Maisie glances over at me. “Is that okay, Ella?”
I may be annoyed with Ryan for getting Liam wasted, but he redeemed himself by offering to stay and help. “If Ryan stays, that’s fine.”
Maisie saunters back to the bar and whispers the plan into Jayce’s ear. He rolls his eyes and nudges Kale, leading the way into the men’s bathroom. They reappear a few minutes later supporting Liam on either side. They say their goodbyes and climb into a cab.
Ryan does a lot of the packing and heavy lifting Liam was supposed to help with: unhooking paintings from the wall, bubble-wrapping them, and neatly placing them in the trunk of another cab. Besides the bartender, we are the last ones to leave.
When the cab stops in front of my apartment, Ryan pays the cab driver and meets me at the trunk to start unloading. He watches me wearily as we carry the last few paintings into my apartment. “Did you want me to spend the night?” he asks.
He knows I don’t like being alone at home. I’m a ball of nerves when I have the entire apartment to myself overnight. One of my biggest fears – other than heights, and falling from those heights – is home invasion. Neurotic, I know, but Ryan has been forced countless times to spend the night whenever Maisie sleeps at Jayce’s.
“Yeah, that would be okay.”
Ryan shrugs off his jacket and follows me into the kitchen.
“Want a beer?” I ask, opening the fridge.
“Yeah, sure.”
I take two beers. We stand in front of the sink in silence, both of us nursing our beer bottles.
“You got anything good to eat?” He asks, pulling open a cupboard where he knows our ‘goodies’ are.
“Of course we do. Do you think I want to lose an eye? That cupboard stays stocked with all your favorites.”
He smiles weakly at me. “Except I don’t see any Double Stuff Oreos.”
“Move the box of crackers out of the way.”
He does as I say, and pulls out a box of Double Stuff Oreos. He rips the box open, pops a few in his mouth, and then holds it out for me to take some.
I snag some as well. “I’m going to throw pajamas on. You can borrow some of Jayce’s comfy clothes from Maisie’s bedroom if you want. I think he’s got a drawer or something.”
I quickly slip into my bedroom to put on baggy sweatpants and a wrinkly Ballet Academy t-shirt. I put my hair into a messy bun and sneak into the washroom to remove all my makeup.
When I walk back into the living room, I see Ryan sitting on the sofa in nothing but boxer briefs. “Um… you’re naked.” I feel a flash of panic. I shouldn’t be surprised, through; he’s done this before, but this time I thought he’d at least wear some of Jayce’s clothes. And I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve had too much to drink, but Ryan’s body on full display is very distracting.
“I always sleep in my underwear,” he laughs. “I’m not snooping through Maisie’s drawers to find Jayce’s clothes.”
The living room is dark except for the television screen casting a light on Ryan’s face. He leans back and pats the cushion beside him, his eyes endlessly on me.
I grab a blanket from the back of the sofa. “Cover up, then.” I toss it onto his lap before sitting down beside him. “Your bare chest disgusts me.”
“Liar. It probably excites you. You’ve never been with a dude with a chest as perfect as mine.”
I have no idea what to say to such a vain comment. I mean, yes, he’s right on all accounts. I’m lying. His chest does excite me. And I’ve never been with a guy with a chest as perfect as Ryan’s. I don’t think there is a guy on this planet with a chest like his – smooth, defined, and extremely proportioned. His nipples are just the right size. And the ripples on his abdomen are so defined, you can count all eight of them.
“You know what?” I grab the remote control from him. “I totally should have sold your painting to Liam. You’re way too cocky.”
“Wait. You didn’t sell my painting to him?” He leans a bit closer.
“No.”
We sit there in silence: I, facing him, and him, thinking of what to say next. I realize he was worried I sold the painting to Liam, and was hurt by the possibility. I don’t like the way he doubted my allegiance to him, especially knowing that it upset him.
“Good.” His voice sounds hoarse. “Because that’s my painting.”
Smiling, I whisper, “I know.”
“Do you?” He asks, like he’s asking me so much more than those two simple words. And maybe when I decided not to sell that particular painting to Liam, it was because I felt like Ryan already owned it. Part of me – a very large part of me – decided Ryan would always own that painting, and above all else, a part of me.
“Ryan,” I say quietly. His name fills my head, hijacks my pulse.
He smiles a secretive little smile, then looks at my mouth.
“Yes, Ella?” His words comes out in a breathless tumble.
My eyes go wide. “You didn’t call me Jonesy.”
He nods, mesmerized by my bottom lip. “I know.”
His brows draw together. More words are perched on his tongue, but I watch as he takes a deep, shaky breath instead. I’m a little tipsy and nervous. Clearly, he is, too.
The familiar smell of his light sandalwood shampoo hits me when he leans closer. I’ve never been nervous around Ryan before, but right now, I am.
I let out a long, measured breath. Only then do I realize how close we’ve become. I look up to se
e him watching me. Some carnal awareness pricks along the back of my neck and down my spine as his thumb brushes against my cheek.
All of this is suddenly too intimate between mere friends.
His eyes roam from my own to my mouth, with the rest of him moving that last inch to kiss me. His kiss is so sweet and tender, it makes my legs wobbly. It feels unreal: his lips slide over mine, his tentative kiss quickly turning passionate so I know he isn’t messing around and this isn’t a drunken mistake.
I open my mouth just enough to take in his bottom lip and suck on it. His throaty moan, his arms around my waist and back, the weight and curl of his huge body over mine all make me shiver. I feel like he’s consuming all of me, relishing in every tiny jagged breath and every beat of my heart.
He pulls back and studies my mouth, my eyes, and my forehead. He waits for me to say: Stop kissing me; this is crazy because you’re my best friend. We’ve made this mistake once before, and we can’t make it again.
But I say nothing.
“Is it bad that I like kissing you?” He murmurs against my mouth. “That I don’t know if I can stop?”
We are kissing everywhere now. His mouth is on my neck, my collarbone, and my breasts. Truthfully, it’s probably the alcohol. But I don’t ever want him to stop, either.
“I shouldn’t want this,” I breathe. “I have no idea what we are doing.”
The world around me seems to spin. His mouth feels so good, but the reality of what we were doing completely stuns me. The smell and taste of his smooth, firm skin; the sounds he makes as he touches me... everything feels surreal.
“Tell me to stop, Ella,” he whispers on my lips, daring me.
I can’t. Instead, I reach up, cupping the back of his neck and bringing him closer. He opens his mouth, sucking on my lower lip, my tongue. Heat pulses low in my belly, and I feel my breathing tighten.
“What are we doing?” I pant.
Ryan laughs into my skin. “I think we’re about to have some awesome sex.”
“We shouldn’t.”
He leans back to give me his most skeptical look, wiggling off my sweatpants and just daring me to stop him.
I don’t.
My need to be with him again – to have him inside me – spikes through me and plants beneath my ribs.
“Just one more time,” I say.
Ryan leans in without hesitation, opening his mouth to mine and kissing me. My thoughts blur; everything flashes hot and wild. There is no way we can stop now. No one will know about it. Just like no one knew about it one year ago.
And in the morning, we can pretend it never happened.
Chapter 10
Nothing is more annoying than being woken up by a ringing phone. The racket – the vibrations, the ringtone, the dings from missed text messages – started about fifteen minutes ago, and only get worse the more I postpone rolling out of bed and finding my phone.
I know exactly who is calling. It’s Liam, apologizing for his asshole behavior and getting too drunk last night to stick around and help me. It should be him in my bed, not Ryan. And yes, I know he’s still there, sleeping peacefully beside me.
I was drunk, but not that drunk. The only justification in my mind about what we did was that I was angry at Liam for being a belligerent, unreliable drunk. And Ryan was clearly on the rebound from his breakup with Alodie. I mean, there is no other logical explanation for us sleeping together again. At least this time, I know we can bounce back into the friend zone and forget this ever happened.
I roll onto my stomach with a groan, reaching blindly for my phone to drown out the sound and switch it to Silent mode. Liam’s number is on my screen. I feel awful in so many ways – hung over, guilt-ridden, and restless, just to name a few. But I also remind myself to take a deep breath. I did not cheat on Liam. We aren’t exclusive. Sure, we’ve kissed and gone on a few dates, but there was never a “where is this going?” conversation, and I made it clear to him I wasn’t looking for anything serious.
I was a mess last night, having been stressed leading up to the event, then having Liam arrive with a bouquet of flowers, and Ryan giving me a set of drawing pencils. And how could I ever forget Liam getting so smashed, he made fun of my artwork then puked in the bathroom, only to be escorted out of the building when he was supposed to help me pack up? Why is everything so complicated? Wasn’t Liam what I wanted, a fun and flirty guy with a sexy accent to pass the time with?
What’s the problem?
The way Ryan messes with my head is the problem. The fact that he gave me the most perfect present then got Liam piss-drunk caused me to think more about Ryan and less about Liam. I wasn’t thinking about Liam when I decided not to sell the Golden Gate Bridge painting to him, or when he kept on slamming shots. Instead, I was preoccupied with Ryan’s teasing smile, the look on his face when he told me he ended things with Alodie, his playful text messages from across the room, and how I hoped he’d suggest he spend the night.
Exasperated, I flop onto my back and kick off the blankets. Ryan doesn’t even twitch. He’s sprawled out on my mattress, his naked body resembling a sculpture so flawless, it makes me insecure about my own body. I reach down to the floor and pull on a t-shirt and panties. It’s eight o'clock in the morning, and I’m wide awake and really restless.
“Ryan. Wake up,” I hiss as I poke his back. “We need to talk.”
He groans and fishes for the blanket down by his thighs. He pulls it up to his chest and rolls over. He looks far too sleep-rumpled and sexy for my current state of mind.
“Morning, Ella.”
My stomach twists with warmth as he says my name. He shoots me one of his trademark grins, then reaches forward and tugs my wrist to pull me back to bed.
A long, heavy silence stretches between us as we stare at each other from the opposite sides of the mattress.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” he says, biting down on his bottom lip. “I could beat you with a pillow for waking me up to say, ‘we need to talk.’”
“I know, okay?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. “But seriously. What did we do? You just broke up with Alodie.”
He searches every inch of my face. “It’s okay. Relax.” He yawns and stretches his arms behind his head in a way that’s too nonchalant for my liking.
I can’t relax. My throat feels like its constricting; my heart, like it’s about to explode. My entire body is shaking. “What we did last night was stupid, and we shouldn't have done it, because now you are naked in my bed!”
“And?” he asks, looking completely unimpressed.
“We are best friends,” I challenge.
“So?” His tone is uneven, his face impassive. But the speed of his questions tells me he’s feeling irritated.
I look down at my sheets, trying to recall exactly what I thought I would say once I woke him up to talk. I wasn’t thinking, that’s another problem.
“So? We had sex. Again,” I say, frustrated. Does he not understand how insane this is? How irresponsible it is for our friendship? “We don’t like each other like that… I was just mad at Liam for getting drunk and acting like an epic douchebag, and you are obviously on the rebound from Alodie. And that’s okay. We used each other for sex. And now everything will just go back to normal, right? Right, Ryan?”
He sighs deeply as he runs a hand through his hair. “Right. Let's forget it ever happened.”
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to physically hold myself together. “Yeah, because we've both had one-night stands. None of which we're proud of, including the last time this happened. We had a little too much to drink. Made ourselves a little too vulnerable because we’re already comfortable with each other… To think that you and I could just have sex a second time without it compromising anything was just so foolish.”
He blinks. “Yeah, uh… Right.”
“I just don't want this to come between us. I know it didn’t the first time… But it really can’t the second time.
”
“It won’t, okay?” Ryan sits up on the edge of the bed, bends down and grabs his clothes off the floor. “You’re right. It was a stupid.” He stands up, slides on his t-shirt, and tugs on his jeans.
I stare at him, trying not to lose my cool by whipping a pillow at the back of his head. Of course, I also recognized what we did was stupid. But for some reason, I shake with rage when I hear him say it out loud.
He turns his attention back to me. “Listen, there is no need to overanalyze what happened. It just happened.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, not sure exactly what else to say. He sighs and turns away from me. I grab my phone from the nightstand and follow him out of my bedroom and into the kitchen, watching his shoulders flex with every step.
“You were just a rebound, Jonesy.” He stops in front of my fridge. “You need to take a chill pill. It was just sex.”
I seethe, unable to stop myself from visibly shaking. My phone starts ringing again. I sigh when I see Liam’s number.
“I am totally chill.” I take a step closer to Ryan. “And I’m glad you feel the same way…” He scratches the back of his neck, looking down at me through his dark lashes. “Because I am still seeing Liam and – “
“Wait? You are still going to see Liam?”
“Well, yeah.”
Ryan’s mouth twitches. He cracks open a package of muffins on the counter and takes one. “Liam can never know about this. And neither can Alodie. No one can know. Ever.” He looks dazed and conflicted.
I talk again before he can even say anything else. “I’m sorry, but I should call Liam back. He’s been calling all morning.”
“Don’t hold back on my account,” he says taking a bite of his muffin. He swallows and gives me a cunning smile. “Call him up.”
We both stare at each other. The awkwardness slowly hits me.
Ryan watches as I call Liam and place the phone to my ear. It rings once before Liam answers. I don’t meet his eyes as I carry on a conversation with Liam.
“Hey. Yeah, sorry. I was sleeping,” I pause to let Liam fill in the rest of the conversation. He rambles on, but all I can focus on is Ryan’s silent, imposing presence. “No, it’s okay. Really. We all get a little too drunk sometimes… Yeah, he helped me pack up instead.”