by Sharon Page
“You have to go back to school, Ryan. You can’t stay just to protect me.”
“I talked to Jonathon and he promised me he would take care of you.”
My eyes go wide. “But—”
“Yeah, I’m asking my competition to spend time with you. But I have to know you’re going to be protected, Mia.”
“He is not your competition. You have no competition. No one could dream of competing with you.”
“I’d like to teach you some skills to take care of yourself.”
I know he could. Ryan used to do maintenance work and cleaning around a MMA club in Milltown in return for some training from the owner, Danny Lane, and time in the ring.
“Are you kidding? I’m small and kind of skinny—at least right now.”
“You don’t have to be large for these moves. You use your opponent’s size against him. I learned these from Danny’s girlfriend, who was an Olympian in Judo. She’s tinier than you. Tomorrow we’ll work on some moves.”
I know I’m being selfish by keeping him here, but I want to learn these skills. And I suspect that if I let him do this, I’ll be able to convince him to go back to college.
I’ll make it up to him by ensuring he gets through his term.
***
I get to use the college gym facilities as a student and Ryan pays to get in. For two days, he teaches me judo throws, how to fend off an attack from behind, even how to deal with a knife attack. At the end of it, I actually throw him to the mat. I assume he let me do it. But he grins up at me, and insists I did that all by myself.
“Thank you,” I tell him. Would I really have the courage to try to throw my attacker? But if I’m grabbed again, if it’s life or death again, of course I would fight as hard and as desperately as I could. Thanks to Ryan, I might actually have a chance to save myself.
He jumps up from the mat by springing directly onto his legs. It’s a move I’ve only seen gymnasts make. His strength amazes me.
I adore his strong body and his gorgeous face but it’s his strength of character that makes me melt into a puddle of desire and love.
“You are amazing,” he tells me. “You picked that up really fast. My roommate tells me I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have a girlfriend who is pretty, smart, and…and sexy, too. You’re also really strong, Mia.”
That is the most beautiful thing anyone has said to me. I want to think of something funny to say, because this moment is so intense I want to cry, but I can’t. Still, I have to face him seriously. “You’ve helped me into the shops and now you’ve taught me how to save my life. But you really, really, really need to go back to school.” I put my hand on the bulge of his biceps. “I’ll never forgive myself if you flunk out over me.”
“For you, Mia,” he says. “I’ll go.”
We walk back to my dorm, arm in arm. Sunlight splashes across the campus, but the air is cold with the promise of winter. I don’t notice the cold, warmed to the heart by being with Ryan.
We share a kiss that goes on and on. Dimly, I’m aware of people passing us, going in and out of the dorm. It’s as if we can stay locked in a kiss until Thanksgiving.
I draw away. “Thanksgiving is a couple more weeks. That’s all we have to wait.”
“I know. But when it’s so close, it’s going to be more painful.”
I giggle. “That’s true. But I’m going to call you and text you a lot. I want to help you with your studying. You’ve saved my life, Ryan. I owe you a huge amount.”
I realize he’s shown me how to face—and conquer—most of the things that scare me. How can I ever repay him for a gift like that?
“That’s what you do for someone you love,” he says softly.
We kiss again, and I know that if I don’t make it a quick one, I will never let him leave. But I guess he feels the same way. He draws back from the kiss, then goes over to his bike. He had his helmet tucked under his arm and he puts it on. He attaches his carrier bag on the motorcycle.
Three more weeks. Then we get four days together. I can survive. I have to.
As he drives away, disappearing around a bend in the road on his motorcycle, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I ignore it. I hope to have one more glimpse of Ryan. But I don’t.
I pull out my phone. Not to check the message, but to call up one of the pictures I took of Ryan when we were at the inn. In the photo, he’s just wearing his briefs and he’s smiling at me. Gazing at it, I put my hand to my mouth. And start to sob.
***
The morning after Ryan is gone, Jonathon comes by my studio. I’m so thrilled with the progress I made on the milling machine that I accept his invitation for coffee. I can actually take an hour off. I agree to meet him at the coffee shop in the University Center.
But when I sit down opposite Jonathon, cupping my extra-large ordinary coffee in my hands, he looks at me with a strange expression.
“Do I have paint on my face or something? Or sawdust in my hair?” I walked around the whole afternoon after Ryan left with chunks of wood in my hair. I didn’t notice until I was in my bathroom in the dorm, washing up for bed.
Jonathon looks down at his hands, then up at me. “I talked to Ryan.”
“I know. Before he left yesterday, he said he asked you to look after me, and you said you would.”
“Yeah. He’s a great guy, considering he thinks I’m his rival and he still gave me permission to stay close to you.”
“He’s trying to protect me.”
“I hate to do this to him because I respect him.”
“Do what?”
Jonathon looks at me and I lose my breath. The intensity of his gaze is dazzling. “Mia, I want you,” he says. “I’ve tried to keep our relationship as just friends, but I hoped you would change your mind and fall for me. Now that I’ve met Ryan, I understand that I have really stiff competition. I have to fight harder for you.”
Oh no.
“Jonathon—”
“I need you, Mia, and I think we have a special connection. I have something deeper with you than I’ve ever had with anyone other woman. Ryan may be a great guy, but I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before.”
He speaks calmly, but there’s an undercurrent of need to his voice that shocks me, coming from Jonathon.
“I’ve been honest with you from the beginning, Jonathon. I can’t—”
He leans close to me across the table, his voice soft. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? You can be honest with me. You can open up to me. But you can’t be honest with Ryan. If you can talk to me, maybe that means we should be together.”
“I can’t tell him about my past. I’m afraid of losing his love, if he knew the truth.”
“You think Ryan will be disgusted by your past. Mia, you’ve told me everything and have I judged you? If anything, I care about you more now that I know what you’ve been through. I admire you more. I know you’re strong, and you have a huge heart. I don’t see you as damaged, I see you as remarkable. Sexy, beautiful, smart, and courageous.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. It’s almost the same as what Ryan said to me, but Jonathon has said these wonderful things when he knows the worst about me.
I am deeply touched. I’m also shocked.
“But there can’t be anything between us,” I say softly. “I’m in love with Ryan.” I start to get up, to leave my coffee, but Jonathon reaches out and touches my hand.
“Don’t leave. You can be honest with me and we can still be friends. You don’t have to walk away.”
“But I don’t want to give you the wrong idea—”
“You haven’t. You never have. But it’s not so easy to stop wanting you, Mia.”
***
Two days before Thanksgiving I present my project in front of my classmates and my professor, Anton Brut. I stand in front of them and think: I survived getting attacked, I have a guy who loves me (Ryan), and I could judo throw anyone who insults me. Not that I would, but I could.
&n
bsp; I’m proud of my project, and proud that I’ve conquered fears with Ryan’s help and with Jonathon’s help. I stand in front of my prof with confidence for the very first time.
And I prevail.
My presentation is strong and I don’t get rattled by the questions. When I have to think for a while to get an answer, I don’t automatically see it as proof I don’t belong. I can put things into perspective. Two guys I admire have complimented my strength. I survived a brutal attack. I refuse to turn into a wuss. If I did, I would be letting Jonathon and Ryan down.
At the end, my studio professor stands up. “An excellent job, Miss Reynolds. I expect you will see your dramatic improvement this term reflected in your marks.”
I’m tempted to point out that I haven’t really ‘improved’, that I’ve always had the capability. Then I realize I have improved. Inside, I have grown stronger.
“Thank you,” is all I say. “I feel I have learned a great deal this term.” I leave it at that, letting Brut think he’s responsible for my growth. Maybe my profs are partly responsible, because they’ve challenged me, and that forced me to fight harder. But the skills to fight have come from Ryan and Jonathon. I remember thinking I could be invincible with Ryan’s support. I guess it’s true.
After the last student in the class presents, it is five-thirty, and we’re free for Thanksgiving. Some of the older students head to the bar for a little ‘attitude adjustment’, i.e. a beer to relax over. I hurry back to my dorm room to pack.
Tomorrow morning—Wednesday—I’m taking a cab to the bus station, then a bus to the airport, then flying to the nearest airport to home, then taking a bus to Milltown.
It’s going to take me hours to get home, and it’s going to be hell to survive lose last few hours before I get home and see Ryan.
I thought I’d be going home to Thanksgiving certain I was going to flunk out. Now I believe I’m going to make it through.
Ryan calls while I’m packing. “Just wanted you to know I’m going crazy counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until I see you.”
I have to laugh. “That’s exactly what I was doing.”
“I wanted to let you know I feel confident about my mid-terms, Mia. Your help really pulled me through.”
We’ve spent a lot of time via email working on his subjects. I missed being able to tutor him face to face, but I loved working out problems with him. We mesh together well.
Softly, I say, “You did the same for me.”
We hang up so we can finish packing. Ryan is going to take buses to get home, starting tonight, because there is usually a bad storm on the travel day before Thanksgiving and I insisted snowstorms and motorcycles are a crappy combination.
I’m stuffing underwear in my knapsack when I suddenly stop.
We’re good for each other, Ryan and I. That has to mean this really is a forever thing.
***
Snow is swirling in the air and there’s a light dusting on the ground when I reach Milltown. Mom offered to meet me, but I figured I would just take a cab. I end up arriving at the bus station at the same time as a friend of Ryan’s from high school, and he gives me a lift home.
I knock on the door of my bungalow and the instant my mom opens the door, I run in and throw my arms around her. Our house may be small, and our landlord may be the slowest guy on the planet when it comes to fixing things, but the lights glowing in the window look homey, and the house smells of lasagna and cookies and fresh baked bread.
I’m home.
Mom gushes and hauls me inside. She has coffee ready and I desperately want a cup. But I want to get to Ryan’s house—
There’s another knock on the door. Mom smiles. “Ryan arrived home this afternoon and I invited him for dinner.”
My heart soars. “Thank you, Mom!”
I race to the door and fling it open. I grab Ryan’s hand and pull him in so fast I almost haul him off his feet. He lifts me off my feet and kisses me, but it’s a quick kiss and when he sets me on my feet, he looks at mom with a guilty expression. “Thank you for inviting me, Ms.O’Connell.” (Mom went back to her maiden name.)
Ryan holds out a small box with a bow on it. A gift for my mom.
She takes it and hugs him, beaming at him. “That’s so lovely of you, Ryan. It’s good to see you. And I suspected you and Mia would want to see each other right away.”
I go into the kitchen to take out the lasagna, and I pour my mom’s own balsamic dressing on the salad and toss it. Ryan comes in to help me, getting out plates and cutlery for setting the table
A minute later my mom comes into the kitchen. She’s holding Ryan’s gift. “Oh Ryan, this is too wonderful.”
It’s an angel made of bent metal and assorted wires welded together. It’s really lovely and unique. I gaze at Ryan. “Did you make this?”
“Yeah, this afternoon.”
I hug him, and he says softly by my ear, “I wanted to say thank you to your mom, but I picked an angel because you’re my angel, Mia.”
I have to blink away tears.
***
After dinner, Mom goes into the living room to watch television, and I quietly ask Ryan if he wants to go upstairs.
He looks actually shocked. “I don’t think your mom would like me going into your bedroom.”
That’s Ryan. Decent always. “Come on. It will be okay. We’ve been together a long time—”
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t feel right betraying her trust.” Then he adds softly, “I came over in the truck.”
“You want to make love in the truck? It will be freezing.”
“Not with the heat on. And I brought blankets.”
I know I have to compromise. “Okay.” I tell my mom that we’re going to drive to Main Street for Christmas shopping.
Ryan has the truck running, warming up, when I hurry outside with my winter coat, hat and gloves on. I use the running board to climb in—his truck is a king cab and is huge. He could only afford it because it’s pretty old. I recognize where we are going, even in the early darkness of a wintery evening. “We’re going to the lake, aren’t we? Where we…had our first time?”
He grins. “Special memories.”
The minute he stops the truck, I start kissing him. We fumble our way between the seats in the back seat of the king cab. I lie down with Ryan over top of me, and he pulls the blankets over us. The snow has stopped and moonlight spills in so I can see his face, caressed by silvery-blue night. Just like our very first time making love, in early September.
It seems like a long time ago. Strangely, for all I’ve been apart from Ryan for months, I feel closer to him now.
I hear the zip of his fly. His hands brush against me as he fumbles with his condom. I’m starting to feel warm now, so I push my sweatpants down. They’re convenient for love-making in the truck.
His mouth captures mine. I open my legs as much as I can with my sweatpants binding my ankles together, which is kind of sexy. We indulge in wet, open-mouthed kisses, then he’s inside me. Filling me. I sob in relief, joy, and lust. I desperately thrust up at him, then he takes over, all coiled, controlled strength. He takes it slow at first, but I want more. I want it wild. And I coax him to keep going until he’s pounding hard into me and I’m taking every thrust. The truck must weigh a half a ton, I’m sure, but we make it rock.
His fingers go down, and his hand slips between our bodies and his fingers stroke my clit. It’s like magic. His index finger plays with me until I coil up with tension. Then I slide my hand down and touch my clit too. Just a bit more gently. And suddenly, my climax explodes. It’s like being smacked with a wave of pleasure. I’m swirling in it, crying out, my hips moving wildly and uncontrollably.
He comes then too, jerking over top of me, and I stroke his hair, his neck, his gorgeous back.
We make love again and again, until its one a.m., and Ryan insists on taking me home so my mom won’t worry.
He drops me off at home, walks me to my door,
and we share a long goodnight embrace.
“I love you, Mia,” is the last thing he says before he walks to his truck to go home.
I can’t believe I’ve found a guy who is sexy, a perfect gentleman, and deeply loving and romantic. My heart is filled to bursting. Filled with happiness. I float to my bedroom. Even my tiny room with peeling wallpaper and an uneven floor looks beautiful to me.
I never dreamed I could ever be so happy.
I pull off my outdoor sweatpants, and put on the ones I wear for bed, along with a fresh tank top. I fall onto my bed.
It’s almost the end of fall term, and I finally feel like I’m growing into the person I want to be. I feel like the luckiest girl alive because I have Ryan, and because I’ve really found love. Plus, I discovered I can come with Ryan. Everything is perfect.
What is the rest of my first year going to bring? And I know that eventually I’m going to have to be honest with Ryan. Next term, after Christmas, I’m going to have to find the courage to tell him about my past.
I just have to.
My phone buzzes and I look at it, wondering if it’s a last message from Ryan. But it’s a text from Jonathon.
Mia, he writes. I know you don’t want to change your mind and Ryan’s a great guy. But I am not going to give up. I intend to sweep you off your feet.
Want More Yardley College Chronicles?
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