It’s now Thursday night at the mod, three weeks to the day since we first met and two days before the DASH. I sip the cheap wine I picked up for us. It’s all I can afford after the shoes. Everything seems so different now. It’s been awkward between us all day. As we draw closer to when we break up, it’s harder and harder to look him in the eye. I don’t want this to end. Does he feel the same way?
He’s in shorts and a loose tank top. I can’t stop stealing heated glances. He’s turned into one hell of a good-looking guy. He’s always been a great guy on the inside. I simply added the shiny wrapping to perfect the package. And what a perfect package he’s turned out to be.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He eyes me, caution in his gaze.
“No reason.”
“What are you contemplating changing on me now?”
I laugh at his comment. There’s nothing I’d change, inside or out. But I can’t admit that to him. “Let me pierce your ear.”
“No way. We agreed.”
“You insisted. I never agreed.” I inch toward him.
His hands immediately cover his ears. The gesture is so damn cute. He jumps off the couch and moves to the other side of the room. “No. Get away.”
“Aw, come on.” I stand and take my time swaying toward him. “What’s one little prick?”
“Hey!” His eyes round.
I burst into such a fit of giggles it makes me snort. “Oh, shit. That’s not what I mean. It’s not little. I promise you. It’s not.”
“You are brutal to my ego, you know that?” He lowers his hands as he grins.
“I do know that. It’s listed under my name in my high school yearbook.” I make a dramatic sweep with my arms wide. “Emma Louise Rae, speaks fluent sarcasm and is brutal to a guy’s ego.”
“Emma Louise?” He lifts his eyebrows when I groan. “That’s pretty.”
“I hate my middle name almost as much as I hate my freckles.”
“I happen to love them both.”
My heart skips at his admission. I ignore it and tuck my arms inside my shirt to remove my bra. It’s been driving me nuts all day. He watches as I unclasp it and slide out of the straps before poking my arms back through the shirt, bra in hand.
He widens his eyes as he spots it. “How’d you do that?”
“It’s a talent only women are allowed to have. If I told you the secret, I’d have to kill you. It’s the rules. I don’t make them.” I toss the torturous article of clothing onto the arm of the couch. “Since we’re playing house, you get to see me in all my glory.”
“You are so hot.”
I shrug and fall to the couch. “I can’t help it.”
He chuckles. “You’re a nut. Thirsty?”
“Hungry.” I grab the remote and turn on the TV. We’ve been watching Netflix and chilling all week. Most of the time actually chilling as we binge-watch one of the plethora of superhero shows. I blame Ryan. I’d never heard of Daredevil or Arrow before hanging at the mod. Now I can’t get enough of them. Or Flash. Jessica Jones. Even iZombie. The list goes on.
I also can’t get enough of my time with Ryan. Hanging with him is like hanging with a best friend. I can be myself. I don’t have to be careful of what I say or try to impress him. He gets me. He gets me despite the fact I barely get myself.
“We just ate dinner.” He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge.
“We had tuna fish sandwiches,” I counter. “That’s not dinner. That’s a snack. Which episode did we end on last night? Eighteen?”
“Replay seventeen.” He closes the fridge and sets food on the counter. I don’t know what he’s making, but I’m sure I’ll love it. He’s yet to disappoint me.
“It says we watched it already.”
“You fell asleep on my shoulder. I couldn’t move or I’d wake you, so I finished the episode and then took you to bed.”
That’s so damn sweet. He never ceases to make me smile with his little acts of chivalry. If allowing me to sleep on his shoulder as he watches TV counts as chivalry. I try my hand at it. “We don’t have to replay it. Let’s just start at eighteen.”
“And have you miss the twist they threw in at the end? No way.” He’s chopping away at something. I love the way the movement causes his muscles to flex. I lick my lips and enjoy the view. “Are you going to start the show?”
“I’m happy with the one I’m watching.”
His grin warms me. He returns to the living room with a plate full of cheese, meat, and crackers. “Protein for our run tomorrow.”
“If it’s for tomorrow, shouldn’t we, you know, eat it tomorrow?” I ask as I reach for a cracker.
“Are you seriously belly-aching about the fact I made you something to eat?”
“Did you seriously just use the term belly-aching?” I snort. Oh, my God. This guy always makes me laugh.
“Shut up and watch the show.” He grabs the remote and hits play. We get through three more episodes before the mad case of the yawns attacks.
“I think I’m done.” I yawn and stretch.
“Good. Come here.” He nods for me to follow him into the bedroom. Intrigued, and yes, even a little horny despite the action I’ve had the past three weeks, I hop off the couch and pad down the hall.
I am so not expecting the way he attacks me once I cross the threshold. He darts his tongue into my mouth and I return the gesture as my libido sparks to life. Holy shit, where’d he learn to kiss like this? I never taught him this. As he explores the recesses of my mouth, I moan into his. This kiss doesn’t come from the nerd I met a month ago. This kiss comes from a man with worlds of experience.
I push him back and lick his taste off my lips as I pant. “Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that?”
“YouTube.”
I cringe and shake my head for him to not give me any details. Whatever he watched definitely worked. It takes me a second to catch my breath. The more I think about it, the more irritated I get. He’s got to be playing me. No one, and I mean no one, gets this good this fast. “Okay, come clean. You are so playing me right now.”
His features harden as he loses his smile. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
“Because you’re awesome.” As soon as I realize what just fell from my lips, I try to correct. “I mean, you’re too awesome.” Shit. This is not coming out right. “If you were naturally this cool, you’d have girls swarming. You would have never needed me. I haven’t taught you how to be this cool. You either have it or you don’t.”
He brings his hands to his hips as his expression hardens further. “What are you saying?”
“That you’re lying to me,” I blurt, the wine fueling my words. I should have stopped at two glasses. And eaten something more than a tuna sandwich. “You singled me out in the bar and played me. You’re playing me now.” My eyes burn and I have to turn away before my emotions get the better of me. Why the hell am I crying? And why the hell do I care what some nerd does?
Instead of him getting pissed, which I fully expect him to do so he’ll kick my ass out and end this charade between us, he sets down his beer and then takes my wine. He doesn’t let go of my hand as he leads me over to the bed. “Come on.”
“No.” I try to take my hand back. He won’t let it go. “I’m not having sex with you.”
“I don’t want that. It’s not what you need right now.”
I’m beaten, crying, and completely exhausted, pretending to not give a shit about this guy. He’s lying to me, I’m sure of it. No one is this nice to me. Not ever. Once a guy gets a taste of the real me, he runs in the opposite direction. Ryan shouldn’t be willing to put up with me, not after he’s seen the real me.
“Lie down.” He clicks on the lamp on his end table and kills the overhead light. “Take off your pants. I want you in nothing but your shirt and panties, Em.”
I don’t think he’s ever called me Em and damn if it doesn’t have an effect on me. It’s probably a combination of that and the
dominance in his tone. He’s leaving nothing to doubt and I like it. I like that he’s taking the decision away from me. I do as he says and climb onto the bed. It’s cold and I shoot under the covers.
He strips down to his boxer briefs and joins me, facing me as he turns to his side. His gaze is on me, heating me, pinning me to the spot and making it hard for me to breathe. “Why do you keep trying to push me away?”
I cross my arms in front of me and stare at the ceiling. I refuse to divulge anything incriminating. He’s just going to have to accept that.
“Answer me.” His voice is so strong, so commanding, that I shudder.
But then I recover. “We are not having this conversation.”
“Yes, we are.” He rests a hand on my stomach and it flips in response. The warmth of his touch settles me. “Since you and I said our first words to each other, you’ve done everything to try and get me to walk away.”
“Don’t pretend to know me.” I push him away.
He stays on his side of the bed and holds up his head with his hand. “Who’s pretending? This is what you do, isn’t it? You get close to someone and then push him away before he leaves you.”
“Shut up.” My heart is cracking. He can’t be real. No guy is this good at digging deep enough to get me to actually feel. I’m positive he’s playing me, but I don’t care. I just need a friend right now.
Shit. I have to do something to stop me from drowning in my little pity pool. I don’t want to talk about me, so I dig into my memory bank to recall something he said when we first met. His father made a call and suddenly the biggest nerd at BU is a member of the coolest frat on campus. That kind of stuff doesn’t just happen.
“Tell me about your dad,” I say to change the subject. He darts a quick look at me before dropping his attention entirely. “He’s Stuart Ryan, isn’t he? The head of the Ryan Foundation.”
“Yep,” is all he says and hardens his expression. After several seconds of thick silence, he reaches over and traces his finger along my hip. “That he is. Guess my big secret’s out.”
“He’s got more money than God. Why aren’t you living in a palace or something?”
He stops running his touch along my skin. “Because I don’t want any of his money. My dad is an asshole. Talk about a player. He cheats on my mom constantly, but, then again, she returns the favor, so I guess that makes it okay.”
My stomach flips as anger races in my veins. Memories of my own experience come racing back. I smack his chest and sit up. “No, Ryan. That’s never okay. Two wrongs don’t make a right. It’s a real chicken-shit thing to do, especially in front of the kids, like you don’t give one shit about how it affects them.”
He studies me. “I take it we aren’t talking about my parents.”
I sigh and stare at my knees. “My dad left my mom and me when I was in the sixth grade. No good-bye. No explanation. Just shows up one day with a younger version of my mom and tells us he wants a divorce. To this day I still don’t understand why he left.” I sniff as the emotions threaten to take over. “No, that’s not true. I do understand. It sucks knowing your own dad would rather run off with a younger model and start a new family than stick around and work on the one he had.”
“So that’s it,” Ryan whispers and brushes the hair from my face. “That’s why you push everyone away. You don’t let them so they can’t break your heart when they leave like your dad did.”
“Ryan…” I hate how well he knows me. My heart pinches at the truth and it hurts. And, yet, I can’t help but feel a little relief that he knows the truth behind why I’m so screwed up.
“You know him leaving wasn’t your fault, right?”
“Not if you ask my mom,” I bite back, staring at my toes. I hate talking about this. I hate the way it makes me feel, so vulnerable. I’d rather go back to being snarky, pushing people away. At least then I never have to talk things like feelings. I’m not a touchy-feely person.
He sits up and gently kisses me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I wish I could believe him but we already know the inevitable. We have to accept it, which means I have to push him away before he busts through all my armor. I close off my emotions—something I’ve been perfecting since I was twelve years old—and put on my snarkiest mask yet. “We both are. Two days, buddy. Two days and we’ll be free of each other. No more shackles. No more ball and chain.”
He falls to the bed with a sigh. “You’re killing me here.”
“I can go sleep on the couch if that would make it easier.”
“No, goddamn it!” He springs up and cups my neck. When he sighs, it tickles my face and I close my eyes. “You’re not pushing me away, and you’re not going anywhere.”
“You clearly don’t know me, then.”
“I know you better than you think I do.” He kisses me, not as an act of seduction, but more of an act of healing. And it melts into me, warming me. “Talk to me, Em. We can stay up all night if you want. Just talk to me.”
He leans into me and rests his nose against my cheek as his whisper tickles my skin. “I’m never giving up on you, Emma Louise Rae. Even when you give up on yourself. Especially when you give up on yourself.”
36
{Emma}
My chin quivers as my emotions spill over. It’s so unfair. How does he know the one thing I need to hear to completely break down? The first sob rips through me and my entire body convulses. He pulls me into his arms and I lose it, blubbering on his shoulder like a child.
“Why are you being so nice to me? I don’t deserve it.” I wipe my eyes as I rest my head on his chest. He brushes the hair from my face and kisses my forehead. His masculine scent fills my senses. I hate how much I love how he smells.
“You deserve more than you give yourself credit for. You are the strongest person I know.”
“No, I’m not.” I blubber against his chest. “Strong people don’t cry over something that happened ten years ago. They let it go. But I can’t. I can’t let it go. He left us.” I sob hard. “He left me. I wasn’t enough for him. I’m never enough for anyone.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I wasn’t enough for my own dad to stick around.”
“He’s one person.”
“He’s my dad,” I cry, each sob ripping through me, wracking my body. Everything hurts. My head. My heart. My very being. “That’s why I push everyone else away. That way, I won’t be so sad when they leave me, too.” I continue to cry, my tears falling onto his chest. “I’m so sad, Ryan. He didn’t love me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says with a shaky voice. I don’t have to look into his eyes to know my breakdown affects him, too. It’s another thing I love about this guy. He doesn’t follow the socially accepted version of a guy, of someone who can’t show emotion. “Did you ever think he may have loved you so much he left for another reason?”
“What other reason could there be?”
“Parents leave for all kinds of reasons.” He’s silent for several seconds as he holds me and rubs my back. “Did you ever think it was the right move?”
“Never.” Not even once.
“What if she wasn’t happy?”
I stiffen. “You got the wrong gender pronoun there, buddy.”
“What if he left because your mom wasn’t happy? Did you ever think he left for you? Not because of you?”
No. There’s no way he left as some sort of charity act. He deserted my mom and me. We were all each other had because of him. “You don’t understand.”
“Maybe not. I still think having one of my parents leave would have been better than watching them take out their hatred on each other by flaunting their affairs in front of the other. It didn’t matter if my brother and I knew. Hell, half the time I think they wanted us to know as way of inflicting even more pain. It’s a pretty sucky way to grow up.”
“We’re quite the couple,” I say with a sniff. “You want someone to take you in, and I can’t
stop pushing everyone away.”
“It’s a good thing we found each other. You needed this more than I did.”
I don’t like the direction this conversation has suddenly turned. I push away from his chest and meet his eyes. “Needed what?”
“A little grooming. With me, it’s all surface work. With you, your surface is, well, perfect. It’s what’s inside that needs a little work.”
I don’t know whether to be pissed he just insulted me, or hug him for thinking my outside is perfect. “I really want to hate you right now.”
He chuckles, and I can’t help but laugh along with him. I settle down on the bed, my arm curled under my head, and just look at him. He really is beautiful, inside and out. He mimics my position and we lay there, staring at each other.
He brings his finger up and returns to tracing my hip, his gaze following his movement. He’s so focused on his hand it mesmerizes me. I smile as I watch him, memorizing everything about him. It’s more than his stormy eyes, more than his cute, lopsided grin. It’s what I see behind the eyes, what draws him to flash that grin. He’s a good guy. No, he’s a great guy. I don’t deserve him.
Now I know why he wanted me stripped down. I’m exposed, with nothing to hide behind but my attitude. It would be so easy to blow up, start a huge fight that ends with one of us on the couch. At least that way we’d stop talking.
As I think about it, the more I want to talk. Britt loves to talk about herself. It’s never about me. For once, I want it to be about me. Ryan waits patiently as I debate my decision. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t say anything. He simply waits for me. For some reason, the gesture of doing nothing is more comforting than the biggest bear hug.
I settle on the bed and he does the same, mirroring my position of facing each other, a folded arm under head. For several seconds, I simply stare into his eyes. “I’m not usually the talker. I’m usually the talkee.”
“This is a first for me, too.”
Reluctant Hero (TREX Rookies Book 1) Page 25