Correct. I guess. Who am I to judge anyone? Plus, I love the fact that he’s not the one going to pound town in his own place. “You’re right.”
“So what did you do tonight?” She unzips her dress and tosses it onto a pile on the floor. Soon, that mound of clothes will rival Mt. Everest. I’m scared that any minute a giant, mutated rat is going to crawl out from under it.
“I worked, but ended up closing early. Played Uno with Ryle. That about sums it up.”
“Uno? What are you, ten?”
“His idea. It went south anyways.”
Her eyebrow shoots up. “South in a good way?”
“Not really. I’m tired of talking about boys. I was just about to watch the fourth season of The Vampire Diaries on my Kindle. You in?”
“Isn’t that a show about a love triangle…and boys?” She laughs.
“Vampire boys are so much better than real boys.”
“I’m in!”
We spend the remainder of the night gorging on kettle corn and binge watching TVD. All the while, my mind keeps lingering on the topic of Ryle.
Stupid brain.
I fall asleep thinking about him biting my neck and whispering promises of eternity into my ear.
The first thing Ryle thinks about when he wakes up is Adaley. To be truthful, he’d probably been dreaming about her. It would certainly explain the raging hard-on that is trying to break free from his boxers. Shaking those thoughts away, he makes his way to the bathroom and relieves himself. He feels guilty about it, but the thoughts of her running through his mind make the perfect visual.
Ten minutes later, he’s been cured of his blue ball diagnosis and swiftly walks down the stairs with a cheesy smile perched on his lips. It’s an unusual sight. Rounding the corner, he collides with Naomi.
“Why are you so happy?”
“Why are you always so unhappy?” he bites back. “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. I’m so over playing this little game with you. Why don’t you just act like nothing ever happened between us, so we can both move on?”
“Will it be easier for you to pretend that nothing happened, than to tell Adaley the truth?”
An annoyed sigh passes through Ryle’s parted lips. He takes a step toward Naomi, pinning her to the wall. Her breath hitches as he leans forward and whispers in her ear. “You need to stop playing these childish games. I’m so fucking over it. If you think telling everyone that we slept together will cause… hell I don’t know your reasoning, but go for it. We were both of age and it was consensual. You were begging for it, and now that I don’t want you because you’re all washed up and used by every male on campus, you’re jealous of her. Listen, tell them—tell everyone what a little whore you were and how many times you snuck into my room and begged me to take you, only to be turned down. Please. I’m begging. Set me free from you.”
“I. Can’t. Believe. You. She’s never going to be what you need. You think she’ll know what she’s doing? You think she can suck you off like me? That’s hilarious. I know I’m good at that, and you know it too.”
“And so does every motherfucker with a dick between their legs, including the dean.”
“I hate you!” Naomi’s voice splinters Ryle’s eardrum.
“Right back at you. Now excuse me, I’m going to be late for church.”
It took Ryle a while to cool down. Naomi knows exactly how to press his buttons and she does it on a daily basis. If only Meredith and Thomas could see her true colors, then they might see why he always dodges her like the plague.
Pulling the keys out of his ignition, he swings open the door and steps out of his car. Taking a deep breath of fresh air always seems to calm him, but the sight in front of him makes his heart hammer in his chest.
Adaley stands on the church steps, alone. The white dress she wears clings to her body, showcasing a glorious view. His thoughts immediately go to a place he knows he shouldn’t be visiting. Especially at this moment, as he walks toward the church with his hands in his pockets, trying to cover up the bulge trying to form in his khaki pants.
“Hey,” he mumbles, as he nears her side.
“Hi. How are you?” Adaley’s question is stiff. Ryle catches on.
“I’m great. Shall we?” He gestures with a quick wave of his hand. He debates asking her if she came alone, but he already knows the answer. “Do you want to sit together?”
“Sure.” She replies coyly.
A strange feeling washes over Ryle. He’s normally so suave and cool when it came to interacting with the opposite sex, but with Adaley, he feels different. Other than the first few weeks that they’d known each other, he’d retreated from his dickish ways. Now he stammers his speech and fiddles with his hands as they sit side-by-side in a wooden pew. You’d think he already has it bad for this one.
Maybe he does.
“I didn’t know you attended church,” Adaley says, trying to make small talk.
Her eyes never leave the giant cross in the front of the small room. Ryle knows this because he’s been watching her out of the corner of his eye while nervously picking at a callus that had formed on his hand from baseball. Seeking fellowship alone is sometimes overwhelming. Throwing her in the mix brings things to another level altogether.
“Every Sunday since…” he trails off, thinking about the first time he’d attended church. He’d been pissed off. He’d just been adopted by the Bensons and was overwhelmed by their big house with nicely painted shutters and manicured lawn. Rage had boiled in his stomach and finally erupted when he’d taken his first step into the chapel. He’d screamed so loudly, it had seemed the windows shook. It attracted the attention of Pastor Todd.
Pastor Todd was a recovering alcoholic. He’d said recovering because, like some cancers, he was always afraid that it would poke up and throw his life off its axis once again. He was a kind man who, over the course of a few months, had taken an interest in Ryle. He mentored him, prayed for and with him, and ultimately helped him accept the fact that God had not failed him. He’d told Ryle that the journey leading up to the point when he accepted God as his savior, had been his ultimate test.
“Since I was a child,” he lied, and then cursed under his breath for lying in a sacred place.
“Me too. My father is a pastor at my home church. I practically grew up in the nursery there.”
Ryle feels like he’s just been kicked in the nuts. Of course, she grew up in a church and her freaking father was a pastor. How would he dig himself out of this one?
Luckily, Pastor Todd interrupts their conversation. “Let us pray.”
The sermon lasts for an hour, and as it ends, Ryle dreads saying goodbye. The feelings that stir in his gut are new. Hell, he’s so far in uncharted territory it isn’t even funny. He never allows himself to get attached to anyone for this reason right there. He’s always been the screw ‘em and lose ‘em type. Now, he second-guesses his every move when she’s around.
Their kiss—the moment they shared—solidified everything that he’s been too scared to admit to himself. Ryle likes Adaley. It’s the ugly truth—a truth that terrifies him more than anything. He’s seen firsthand the kind of hell that love puts people through. He’d lost his mother to a love that went awry, and every moment since then, he’d vowed never to let himself fall in love. Until now, he’d been true to his word.
“I have somewhere to be,” he says, as they stroll side-by-side out the doors. A soft morning breeze welcomes them. “But, I’d like for you to join me. If you want to, that is?” A hint of a smile forms on Adaley’s lips. He notices and takes that as a yes.
“I’d love to,” she replies, and follows his lead. Ryle helps Adaley into the passenger seat of his car before sliding in himself. He pauses, and then starts the engine.
“I don’t want to overwhelm you, so I’ll tell you where we’re going. If it freaks you out or you start to feel uncomfortable, just say the word and we’ll leave.”
“I’m fine. I’m a lot stronger
than I look.”
She didn’t have to tell him—he already knew. From the moment he’d watched her dance so effortlessly and passionately, he knew that there was more depth behind her eyes than maybe she was aware of. With a breath, he begins, “This place, the “center,” is a place for kids. It’s sort of like an after school program mixed with a free daycare. It’s run solely by volunteers, and is funded by—well that’s not important—but what is, are the lives of these children. Some are neglected, malnourished, abused...” his voice trails off.
Adaley cringes and a frown begins to form on her face. He knows she understands. “What about CPS? Why don’t social workers get involved?”
Ryle shakes his head in a silent gesture that describes a situation words can’t even begin to explain. After a few silent minutes he whispers, “Adults are the very people who are supposed to care for the innocent. Sometimes, they’re the ones who steal it away from them. There’s no justice that can be served for the things that we’ve… they’ve… seen and experienced in such a short life.”
“I think you’d make a great social worker. I know you’re interested in baseball and physical therapy, but this…” Adaley places her hand over her chest. “I know hits close to home, and that’s why these kids matter so much to you. That’s why you’d be great for them. Who knows? You may be the only person standing in their corner.”
Ryle’s eyes begin to water, clouding his vision as he stares at the road ahead. He’d never in his life—aside from his adoptive parents—met someone who understood and spoke so graciously about his need to help them. This moment alone reconciled everything he felt for her.
The rest of ride is silent, other than a soft beat that plays through his speakers. As they approach a street leading to the dead end where the center is located, Ryle notices Adaley covering her nose.
“What is that smell?” she asks.
“The devil’s lettuce,” he replies, but he can tell by the look in her naïve eyes that she’s lost. “It’s marijuana.”
“Oh my God. People are doing drugs around a place for children?”
He doesn’t have to answer. The nod of his head is enough.
“What’s wrong with people? There are kids in that building.” Adaley points in front of them. Ryle watches her hand closely. From his perspective, it looks like she was holding up a makeshift gun. He quickly lifts his hand off the wheel and covers her hand with his own.
“Don’t,” he says, before lowering her hands to her lap. “People might get the wrong impression, and this isn’t the neighborhood where you want that to happen.”
“Are we safe here?”
His answer gets lost on his lips. He wants to tell her that they’re safe and that he will never allow anything to happen to her. The truth is that on this very block, four men once jumped him over a gallon of milk and a box of cereal.
People who live on this block are always desperate and are never willing to take the higher road, which is why the center rests in the middle of it. He has hopes that the children will have a chance to see good things, and get to interact with people who care about them.
Finally he opens his mouth to answer her. “You’re safe with me. Always.” He knows it may be a lie, but he dragged her here, and he’ll be damned if he lets her be tense the entire time because she’s scared of what’s lurking on the streets outside of the building. He whips the car over and slowly parallel parks between a large black SUV and a car that looks as if someone was living out of it. The sight alone makes his heart ache in sadness. He knows what it feels like to be homeless, and he wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.
My eyes roam over the large building in front of me. It’s mostly made of stone and strangely resembles a jail, but I smile widely and try to hide my nervousness. If Ryle says we’re safe, I believe him. Okay, that’s a bold-faced lie. But I’m doing my best not to show him how I really feel—which is terrified to the core.
I remember my parents bringing me to a place like this once. Granted, we only went for the morning to serve a hot meal to the city’s homeless, but it still felt good to leave. I’d felt like I mattered and truly, to the fifty hungry men and women that morning, I did. I hope that’s how I feel when I leave here today.
“You ready?” He nudges my side before wrapping his hand around my waist and pulling me close. With a good head or two over me, he needs to dip down to be at my eye level. Ryle whispers in my ear, “For your safety.”
A giddy feeling stirs within me. He doesn’t realize how he makes my heart smile. As soon as we push through the doorway, a pack of kids run toward us, each one screaming for Ryle’s attention.
“Ry!”
“I missed you.”
“You owe me a dollar!”
“Hey guys,” he says calmly, as we shuffle through the mass of little bodies. “This is my friend Adaley. She’s going to hang out with us today, if that’s cool?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Enough twenty questions. We came here to play, not to be interrogated,” he laughs before tugging on my hand.
Bashfully, I follow him. My eyes take in everything around me. If I had to guess, I would say there are about thirty or so kids. Not all of them are all pining for his attention—some are tossing a basketball into a small net toward the left side of the expansive space. Others are sitting in front of small easels, adorable little aprons tied around their necks as they paint on canvases.
“This is amazing,” I mumble.
“It truly is. This is why I come here all the time. It’s hard to think that most of these little people go hungry at night, or sleep on mattresses on the floor. If I can take their minds away from reality for just an hour, I will.”
The excitement from our arrival dies down, and most of the children who had greeted us go their separate ways. I turn to speak to Ryle and notice a little boy in a blue, tattered, Nike shirt grasping the belt loop of Ryle’s jeans.
“What’s your name?” I lean down so that we’re eye to eye.
“This little fella is Richie Harris. Say hi to my friend, Richie.”
He responds by shyly looking in the opposite direction.
I straighten back up and laugh. “A man of many words. I don’t know where he learned that from.”
“Watch it,” Ryle warns before he coyly slides his chin along my ear.
“So do you do these activities with them?”
“Normally. Sometimes, I do one-on-one time. Little Richie here is my buddy. We go to the movies and to get ice cream sometimes. Don’t we?”
Richie doesn’t respond.
“He’s just shy. Give him some time. He’ll warm up to you.”
“Like you did?”
Ryle’s mouth widens in approval as he nods.
After Ryle introduces me to a handful volunteers, I get lost in the magic of this place. I’m totally smitten by the kids whose laughter and innocence is infectious. Some run around aimlessly, giggling and acting carefree, and then there are some like Richie, who seem more timid. Afraid. My heart breaks for those kids. Lord only knows the things they’ve witnessed at such a young age.
Eventually, Ryle and I head off in different directions. He’s teaching a group of boys how to toss a football correctly, and I’m caught up dancing with a handful of girls. We spin, twirl and toss our hands above our heads.
“Now are you ready to combine all of those moves into a routine?”
“Yes, Miss. A,” they shout in unison.
“Okay on my count. Ready? One, two, three.”
We finish our first choreographed dance and are greeted with a steady round of applause. The girls are beaming. It makes my heart feel full. So much so, that I’m on the verge of tears.
A pair of hands snakes around my waist. I momentarily freeze.
“It’s just me.”
“Who else would it be?” I turn around to face him.
He leans in and brushes h
is lips against my forehead. It’s innocent, but by the reaction of the kids around us, you’d think that I let him grope my fanny.
“Ew!”
“See, I told you she was his girlfriend,” one kid says to another in a taunting tone.
I feel my dress being tugged. Looking over my shoulder, I spot Richie with a handful of my dress in his little fist.
“Are you Ryle’s girlfriend?” he questions. Honest to God, I don’t know how to respond.
“I’m a girl, and I’m his friend…”
Ryle senses my hesitation and jumps in. “I’m not sure what we are right now Richie, but you’re my brother. The moment I know, you’ll know.”
I watch as he sticks out his fist in front of him. Richie leans close and pounds it. My heart bursts with adoration for him. It’s true that I instantly felt attracted to Ryle, but I didn’t know that I would eventually have more feelings for him than just lust.
I like Ryle Benson.
I may more than like him…
My stomach rumbles as we climb back into Ryle’s car. His car is nice enough that I wonder how he affords it. As I buckle my seatbelt, I recall Kaiser saying that Ryle was loaded. As always, my filter is jammed. “I heard that you donated a lot of money to Braxton.”
“Oh, yeah? I can only guess who supplied that information. A certain someone you work with, I assume?” He presses the gas pedal.
I feel a bit of relief knowing that we’re going back to the safe side of town, but a tinge of sadness reminds me that those kids—those amazing, wonderful kids—can’t willingly leave. Not quite yet.
I force my eyes away from the side mirror and try to pry my thoughts away from them. “Don’t be mad at Kaiser. He’s been entertaining my curiosity about a lot of things.”
“Care to elaborate?” he asks with a significant lifting of his right eyebrow.
“Nope. Not really,” I tease playfully. Ryle’s face falls flat. “Brat. Mostly about the campus, and you…”
“What does loose lips have to say about me?”
“That you’re a good guy, even though you try not to be for some obscure reason. I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know,” I ramble. “Maybe one day we can play Uno again, and I can figure out more about you.”
Bad Intentions Page 15