Handcuffs, Kisses and Awkward Situations

by Olivia Harvard

  “I- I’m sorry… How are you? Really?”

  He shrugged and let out a sigh. “It’s been crazy, Nora. There’s a lot of stuff going on right now, especially for Ryder.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

  Caine looked at me with kind eyes. “I think it’s best if you just keep doing what you’re doing and stay away.”

  That wasn’t the kind of response I was expecting, but nodded like it didn’t affect me. “Okay.”

  He turned to leave, but hesitated and instantly, my stomach fluttered, expecting more news about Ryder. I knew it was selfish, especially because Caine was such a great guy once you got to know him, but this was probably the last time I’d have any contact with any of them.

  “Ryder... He’s not doing too well. He really does have stuff to deal with right now, stuff that isn’t related to you. But through all the crap he has right now… you’re still his top priority. Just stay away from him right now, because I know for a fact that he will eventually come back to you.”

  He gave me a small smile then turned and walked down the street. And although he told me to leave Ryder alone, I was surprised to find that he called me that exact night.

  Twenty Seven

  The phone rang after dinner, with perfect timing too. I was in my room, staring at triangles and wondering how it would ever help me in the future. Trigonometry homework and I had an unwritten agreement. I’d make the shapes look beautiful by decorating them with highlighters in return for them not giving me a headache. So, getting a call was a great break from my intense procrastination session.

  Walking down the stairs and into the kitchen, I found my sister sitting by the counter with a tub of ice-cream and a giant spoon. Patrick was sitting at the dinner table, glasses on as he went through some papers. When Eve spotted me, she vaguely flicked her spoon in the general direction of where I supposed the phone was.

  “Why haven’t you guys moved out yet?” I asked, searching for the phone.

  Patrick, eyes still on his papers, replied, “We decided to stay until the baby is born. Eve is so close to her due date and the hospital is much closer from here.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You guys are staying for the food, aren’t you?”

  Patrick looked up from a stack of papers and smiled sheepishly. “Yes. Eve insisted and I’ve learned never to mess with a pregnant woman.”

  I had to agree with that, so I returned to searching for the phone. It wasn’t by the receiver or the counters. I couldn’t find it by the spice rack or the fruit bowl. It wasn’t where the knife block was located or where the tea set sat. I started getting anxious wondering who had called and my patience was being tested.

  “Eve,” I groaned, searching high and low. “Where did you put the phone?”

  My sister, who was happily digging through the tub of cookie dough flavoured goodness, looked up and frowned at me. She sat there for a moment, licking her spoon clean before she lit up like a firefly in remembrance.

  “The freezer,” she said, matter-of-factly.

  Opening the freezer, sure enough, I saw the phone there. Scooping it up in my hands, I brushed away the crystals of ice that had made its way around the device. Quickly, I retreated back to my room and closed the door, my heart racing with adrenaline, curious to find out who was calling.

  The phone was cold, pressed up against my ear. “Hello?”

  There was a clatter in the background before a voice replied hesitantly, “Nora?”

  I knew that voice anywhere. The velvet of his words, the warmth in his tone. Ryder Collins was on the other line. I was suddenly extremely uneasy. It was the first time we had spoken since the handcuffs were removed and I didn’t want to make any mistakes that would drive him away. I had to sit down to stop from shaking with nerves.

  “Yes?” My voice was all breathless and hoarse.

  “Um…hi,” Ryder answered awkwardly.

  “Hey.” My reply was barely over a whisper. I was being absolutely pathetic, so I took a deep breath and told myself to man up. “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Oh, uh, yeah-” There was a rattling sound, as if something had been dropped and in the distance, Ryder swore. “Um, sorry, I dropped the phone. So, anyway, I kinda of-” Something else dropped again, but this time, it wasn’t the phone. Ryder made an irritated groan and the sounds of his shuffles echoed through the room. “Christ. Okay, uh-”

  “Ryder, stop fidgeting…” I was surprised to hear my voice come out so clear and soothing and even more surprised to find that Ryder stayed still.

  After a brief moment, he started talking again. This time, much more in control. “I’m sorry…just kind of nervous I guess.”

  I couldn’t help the smile that escaped. Knowing that cool and collected Ryder Collins got nervous was a secret that hardly anyone was aware of. And I felt privileged, both of knowing he got nervous and that for this particular situation, it was because of me.

  “I totally understand…”

  “Oh, God, he told you?” Ryder answered, nerves coming back and panic rising in his voice. He swallowed.

  I dropped the smile. He wasn’t nervous because of me. “Who told me what?”

  He coughed and didn’t say anything.

  “Who told me what?” I repeated.

  It took Ryder a while, but eventually, he muttered, “I ran into your dad at the supermarket today.”

  Oh, God. Now it was my turn to panic. A trickle of sweat ran down my brow so I shakily swiped it off with the back of my sleeve. The phone was suddenly burning against my ear. What did my dad say? What did he do? Well, now it explained a lot of things: Dad’s cheerful mood at dinner and Ryder’s agitation.

  “What happened?” I really didn’t want to know the answer, but I figured that not knowing the answer would be even worse.

  “Well… He kind of cornered me by the meat section and threatened me with a giant leg of ham…” Ryder sounded absolutely humiliated as he confessed and I usually would have thought it was cute if my own cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment.

  “He…threatened you…with a ham…” I repeated slowly, feeling the heat surge all the way to the tips of my ears. Just imagining my father, a giant leg of ham in his arms, with his horrible leathery tan, threatening a teenage boy in the supermarket, made me want to crawl into a hole and live there forever.

  “I am so sorry,” I quickly apologised. “Whatever he said, I did not say anything that would drive him into doing that kind of thing. He acted upon his own accord.”

  Ryder shuffled uncomfortably on the other line. “I know. Because, well, before he whipped out the ham like a freaking ninja, he actually thanked me… for taking care of you the other night at the beach.”

  “Then… what did he threaten you for?” I questioned. “He threatened me into saying yes for dinner tomorrow night,” Ryder replied, discomfort dripping from his tone. “You…You’re coming over for dinner tomorrow night?” I asked, instantly thinking about what to wear and how to do my hair. “What time will you be over?”

  “Actually…” Ryder started, shame clinging to every word. “Your dad invited me to dinner with him… Just him.”

  I didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

  “Is that weird? Because I’m really freaking creeped about having dinner plans with your dad. Not only do I have a date with a dude but he’s kind of an… old dude and I hardly even know him. So is this even appropriate?”

  I honestly had nothing to say.

  “Am I supposed to dress casually or do I have to impress him with a suit and tie? What do you think he wants to talk about? Do you think he’s going to bring a ham? Oh God, your family is addicted to ham!” Ryder babbled on, sounding uneasy and generally a little unwell.

  When I proceeded to sit in silence, he whispered, “Can you please come over?”

  His voice was barely over a whisper, vulnerable, yet holding onto every ounce of strength he could muster. What Caine
said was true. Ryder eventually did come around. I mean, it took my dad’s threats, a dinner date and a ham to get him to, but I was grateful he finally did. And now that he was ready, I was finally going to get some answers.

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  Twenty Eight

  I had never really snuck out before, so once I hung up, I just sat there, completely clueless. How was I going to get from my house to his? What was I supposed to do if I got caught? What was my back-up story and who would cover for me while I was gone? How long would I be gone for? It was only eight thirty but how long would it take for someone to realise I was missing?

  Delinquents had so much to think about.

  Eventually, I decided from all my experience watching TV series and movies, I’d just use that knowledge to my advantage. I was dressed in all black with a little flashlight key ring hooked onto a loop on my jeans as I went around my room, turning off lights and locking doors. From there, I painfully opened my window, cringing as the movement made it squeak and cry in reluctance. Deciding I’d get caught if I opened it any more, I stuck my head and arms out and awkwardly reached for the closest branch.

  Now, I don’t know why movies always conveniently have seriously easily accessible and climbable trees outside their windows. I don’t know why people in movies make it so falsely inaccurate that it’s a piece of cake sneaking out. Because honestly, it just gives you false hope. I figured this out as I ungracefully wriggled out my window and stretched for the branch that seemed to be just in my range of reach.

  In movies, this would be where my epic ninja skills kick in and I start climbing the branches like a freaking fruit bat. But unfortunately, reality was in my favour that night so I kind of just clung as tightly as I could to the branch and let my feet fall from the ledge of the window. I swung back and forth, quite dangerously, to a point where I decided I was going to die. Then once I regained my balance, I painfully made my way towards the trunk; years of primary school monkey bar practice had finally paid off.

  Although the bark bit into my palms, threatened to cut my skin and bless me with blisters, I tried to ignore the pain and made my way to the safety of the trunk. It was at good timing too, because the branch I was clinging to was making creaking noises that didn’t sound very reassuring. Uncomfortably wrapping my legs around the trunk, I started making my way down.

  Cartoons make it seem like trees are just giant stripper’s poles and that you easily slide down to safety. But really, it’s a process filled with a lot of uncomfortable movements, painful sliding and intense grabbing. You pretty much have to grope the tree for dear life and hope that you don’t lose your grip.

  I was about a metre or so from the ground when my neighbour, Mrs. Elton, spotted me. She was taking out the rubbish, sorting through to separate a few recyclables that had gotten mixed up in the wrong bag but noticing me basically hugging a tree with all limbs, dressed in nothing but black, must have given her the wrong impression.

  It took her two seconds to sprint towards the garden hose, turn it on full blast and spray me. The water attack surprised me so much, that I let go of the tree and painfully landed on the grass with a thump. I placed my hands in front of my face, trying to block as much water as possible as I spluttered and tried to explain.

  “Burglar!” Mrs. Elton cried for about the fourth time.

  “No! You have the wrong idea!” I tried to explain as quietly as possible but it was hard over her raging tone. “I live here!”

  The water hesitantly scooted in the other direction, long enough for my neighbour to see me clearly. She seemed flustered when she realised it was me and quickly went over to turn the hose off. But by then, shadows were moving in the upstairs master bedroom and I knew I had to bolt. There was no way I was going to climb back up that stupid tree just to save my ass from getting caught. I was already out, so I was going all the way.

  Without saying any more to Mrs. Elton, I made a run for it.

  I reached Ryder’s house fifteen minutes late. After waiting that long, he probably didn’t want to see me but I had gone through all that effort, so I decided to give it a shot. I didn’t want to knock on the front door. Both his car and his mother’s were parked in the driveway and I really didn’t want to make my night worse by having to indulge in a conversation with her.

  Ryder’s room was on the second floor and there was no way I was going to do any sort of climbing to reach it. Instead, I pulled my phone out from my jacket pocket, wiped the water from it, checked that it worked and texted him that I was outside.

  I waited about twenty seconds before the front door opened and there he was, dressed in sweatpants and an old T-shirt. He looked at me and gave me a weary smile.

  “She’s not home. There’s a work party tonight and she knew she’d probably drink. She took a taxi.” Ryder stepped back and held the door open. “Coming?”

  I made my way over, wet fabric clinging to me and uncomfortably rubbing against my skin. When I stepped into the pool of porch light, Ryder raised a single eyebrow at me.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  “Don’t ask,” I muttered, not wanting to recount my unfortunate series of events and stepped into his house.

  I quietly followed him into his room. It was warm in his house and bright. It glowed with a welcoming golden hue, making the space feel smaller and less intimidating. Inside his room, it was neat. Study rearranged on his desk, clothes folded on his computer chair, trophies lined up, bed made up. And sitting on the corner of his desk was an assortment of cookies and milk.

  Ryder noticed my stare at the food. “You can take some. I got them for us.” Then he added, “They’re packaged so don’t expect anything special…”

  He didn’t have to say anymore because I was already crossing the room, fingers wrapping around a chocolate chip cookie and dipping it into a glass of milk. Ryder was rummaging through some things behind me and when I turned around, he was there.

  We were close, so close that I could see the bags under his eyes, the lack of colour in his cheeks, the way his lips could only force a half smile. There had been a lot going on. But despite all that, he wasn’t thinking of himself because in his hands were some clothes.

  “I got you a change of clothes,” he said, holding them out. “You look cold. Get changed and I’ll put your wet clothes in the drier.”

  I swallowed the remains of my cookie and nodded. “Okay,” I whispered.

  After I took the clothes from him, he stayed in his place, leaving me sandwiched between his desk and his chest. We were so close, I could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto mine. His eyes held mine as his hand raised and cupped the side of my cheek. His fingers were gentle, holding me with care as they slid down my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek. His touch was warm and innocent and made me crave more. He smiled slightly and dropped his hand, walking to the other side of the room.

  Feeling lightheaded, I exited his room and got dressed. I changed in the bathroom, peeling off my wet garments and replacing them with Ryder’s. He gave me a pair of track pants and a fleece jumper. They were warm and they smelled of him.

  When I returned, he was sitting backwards on his desk chair. He noticed my arrival and motioned to his bed. Feeling awkward, I tentatively sat on the edge and folded my hands in my lap.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”

  The way he opened the conversation was not what I was expecting.

  “It’s okay,” I answered anyway.

  He ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. It gave me three perfect seconds to admire how his shirt clung nicely, shape of his biceps and shoulders.

  “It’s just been really hectic,” he explained, looking at the floor.

  I nodded and waited for him to continue.

  “My dad’s back in town,” he blurted suddenly.

  Of all the things I was expecting to say, his dad’s return had never crossed my mind. Now I understood why Ryder was so tense. Although he
never liked to admit it, his father was someone who affected him much more than he liked. Although he had mentally convinced himself to separate himself from his dad, emotionally, he struggled with clarity.

  “When?” I questioned.

  “The last night we were handcuffed together. I got a text from my mum and-” He took a shaky breath. “It’s just got me really stressed out.”

  “Have you seen him yet?”

  He shook his head and looked up at me. “I don’t want to, Nora. I don’t want that bastard coming within a five-foot radius of me or anyone I care about.”

  “You can’t just ignore the problem and will it to go away.”

  “He’s done enough damage to my family. If he lays a single finger on my mum, or you-- Christ, I’ll kill him. I’ll--”

  Ryder looked like he was going to kill someone if he didn’t calm down. The wild, passionate fire burned behind his eyes and his fists were clenched, ready to punch through something. Hesitantly, I placed my fingertips under his chin and gently drew his face toward mine.

  “Ryder.”

  Maybe it was the way I said his name with such gentleness. Maybe it was the way I looked at him with pleading eyes. Maybe it was the way my thumb gently brushed across his jaw. Whatever I did, he seemed to calm down. My hand found its way to his cheek and he gently leaned into my palm, closing his eyes as his own hand covered mine.

  It took him a couple of seconds to regain his composure, but when he finally opened his eyes, they were back to completely tranquil and calm. “Sorry... I’m sorry,” he whispered, taking the hand on his cheek and kissing across my knuckles.

  “We’ll figure this out.”

  We were close, breath mixing, lingering, and drawing us closer until lips were pressed together. It was a soft kiss, gentle and sweet, allowing us to appreciate the beauty of the moment. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; just wonderful. Ryder took his time, slowly moving his way over my lips, across my jaw, and all the way to the end of my shoulder. His hand gently found its way up the hem of my shirt and pressed his warm palm against the bare skin of my side. His touch was careful, delicate. He kissed my forehead, the apples of my cheeks, under my eyes and across my nose until he placed his lips back against mine for a long, gentle kiss.