“I know that, but it isn’t happening. You know me better than that, Ry.”
“Half the bills and a quarter of the mortgage,” he counters.
“Right, fine. Work out how much it is. Do you want it in cash or transferred into your bank account?”
“You’re not going to argue? Cash would be good; I can do the food shopping with it.”
“That will be split as well, mister.”
“Right, okay. Give me cash, and I’ll hide it under my mattress for a rainy day. Is that better?” he asks, sounding exasperated.
“Yes, much.” Thanks to my parents, I have money, and if I can use it to help him out, I will. I will just have to find subtle ways to do it so he doesn’t notice.
Ryan then sees all the bags around my feet, where I dropped them when he turned around. “Wow, you’ve been busy. New hair, and it looks like a new wardrobe in those bags. What are the suitcases for? You going somewhere?” he asks, eyeing the bright pink and purple flowered cases next to me.
“No, I realised I don’t have anything to pack my clothes in, and I thought they would come in handy.” God, a holiday would go down so well right about now. Sun, sea, relaxing on a beach. Heaven!
Ryan comes towards me, I guess to grab my bags but, as he gets closer, he stops. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are a little red.” Wow, it looks like I won’t be keeping any secrets from him; he was right last night about being able to read me like a book.
“I stopped at the graveyard to see Hannah on the way home. Told her about everything,” I explain, hoping he understands.
“I get it. I actually went earlier myself.” With that, he leans in, kisses my forehead, grabs my stuff, and places it in my room. He gets hold of the last box and heads upstairs. “I’ll be ready in fifteen,” he says as he disappears.
I stand in the middle of my new room, looking around. I’m so grateful Ryan and I seem to be on the same page for most things. I was dreading him asking me about my visit to Hannah, but he just gets it—so much so that he went as well. I wonder how similar his conversation was to mine.
Ryan finds me a little over ten minutes later, sat cross-legged in the middle of my room with a stack of home magazines in my lap. I tried ringing Emma to tell her about leaving Max and moving here, but my call immediately went to voicemail. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I hate how she’s shut herself off. “What?” I ask when he starts to laugh.
“I just didn’t think you’d take this whole decorating thing so seriously.”
“I want it to be perfect. I’m thinking shabby chic.”
“I’m sorry, shabby what?” he asks, confused.
“Shabby chic. It’s a style. Sort of old fashioned, soft pastel colours and really homey. Here, look, like this.” I get up and show him the page I was looking at.
“Right, okay. Come on, Miss Molly, get your shoes on and let’s get this over and done with.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling up in Ryan’s car to the flat I shared with dickhead Max, as he’s now seemingly called. His car is here, but all the lights are off. “Oh God, I hope he’s not at it again,” I muse quietly.
“If he is, by the time I’ve finished with him, he won’t be able to do it again,” Ryan growls from the driver’s seat.
I love the security of having someone defend me like that.
With a reassuring smile, Ryan jumps out of the car and grabs my suitcases before heading towards the flat. He must be able to sense my hesitation because he reassures me that it will be okay.
We’ve been at the flat for just over an hour, and we have all the rooms but the kitchen cleared of my things. I’m double-checking everything when I hear a crash in the kitchen. I go running in to find Ryan standing there with a murderous look on his face and a hole in the plasterboard. “What the fuck happened?” I question.
“Sorry, it just made me so fucking mad.”
“What did?”
“This…” Ryan points to a used condom on the kitchen worktop.
“Oh.” Tears start to well in my eyes. If I ever needed proof that Max wasn’t faithful, here it is.
“Molly, come here,” Ryan says as he pulls me into his arms. Blowing out a slow breath, I try to keep my emotions in check.
After we finish packing my cooking stuff, we leave the flat. I’m confident that we have everything, although Ryan looks a little unsure, as there are only two suitcases and three boxes.
“I thought you loved shopping?” he asks me as we leave. “How come you only have this much stuff?”
“I had a clear-out when I moved in here. This is all I have.”
We drive home in silence, Ryan’s anger obvious from his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. I feel sick after discovering my entire relationship with Max was a joke. It only adds to the grief and guilt I already feel about moving into Ryan’s home.
Chapter Four
Ryan
I hear a moan behind me and turn around. I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s Molly, but fucking hell, she looks like every man’s wet dream. Her dark brown hair rests just on top of her breasts, and she’s wearing a blouse unbuttoned enough to give me a cheeky peek of her cleavage. Her legs and arse are shown off nicely in a pair of skin-tight dark jeans. And the shoes…fuck me, the shoes are so sexy. When I eventually meet her eyes, their normal chocolate colour is almost black, and the way she’s looking at my half-exposed body makes me think she wants to run her tongue over every line and muscle visible. My cock twitches.
“Molly.” My voice comes out as a groan as I make my way to stand in front of her. In her high heels, the top of her head comes in line with my chin, not to the middle of my chest like normal. She’s staring straight into my eyes, and I can’t help but think that she wants this as much as I do. I watch as she slowly leans her head to the side and moves forward until her lips softly brush mine. My dick hardens in response to her simple touch.
Then, it’s as if our control snaps at the same time. All of sudden, our mouths crash together and our tongues touch for the first time. Her hands thread through my hair as mine go to her arse to pull her body against mine. She moans as I run my hands up her sides and gently brush the underside of her breasts, causing her to suck on my tongue. God, how I want her to do that to something else. My mouth leaves hers as I trail kisses across her jaw and down her neck.
“Ryan,” I hear her whisper. My hands unbutton her blouse as I suck on her earlobe. I’m dying to get a taste of her nipples.
“Ryan,” she groans again as I slip her blouse off and my hands go to her back to release her bra. “Ryan.” She’s getting louder now, and her chest is rising and falling in excitement.
“Oh, Molly.” I slide the straps over her shoulders, preparing myself for what’s to come. I’m so turned on, I don’t want to cum in my pants like a teenager at just the sight of her perfect tits.
“Ryan.” My eyes travel from her eyes down to her exposed…
“Ryan!” She shouts my name this time. I suddenly feel my head snap up and my eyes begrudgingly open.
Fuck, it was a dream.
I look towards my bedroom door and see Molly.
“Having a good dream, were we?” she smirks.
“Shit,” I say under my breath, but from the raised eyebrow, I guess she heard.
“Breakfast will be ready in fifteen, so get up,” she says as she turns to leave. Just before she disappears from my sight, she looks back and says, “I’d have a cold shower if I were you.”
“Ugh,” I groan as I look at myself. I’m completely exposed, my boxer briefs barely containing my very obvious excitement, and I’m covered in a sheen of sweat.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I drag my body out of bed to follow Molly’s advice. I wonder, as I brush my teeth, if I need to buy a lock for my bedroom door, or if it’s time I got myself laid? That must be it; I wouldn’t be thinking about my best friend like that if I were getting some. The image of Hannah’s smiling face filters into my mind and I have
to reach out to lean on the counter as grief and guilt hit me so strong that my knees start to buckle. Fuck, it’s only been six months. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. Or should I? I’ve no fucking clue what the right thing to be feeling in a situation like this is, and I don’t think there are any rules. All I know is that it’s been a long six months and the thought of human contact, a little passion, want, and need sounds so good.
To my relief, Molly doesn’t say anything about my wake-up call when I meet her in the kitchen.
“Smells amazing,” I comment as I sit at the breakfast bar next to my waiting coffee. She passes over a plate with toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon.
“Feeling better?” she questions. She focuses on filling her plate, not on me, which I’m relieved about. I’m embarrassed enough; let’s move on.
“Much. This is great, thank you. So, I told my mate we would pick his van up sometime before ten,” I say, trying to change the topic. It’s only now that I take notice of Molly. Her hair is still wet and her face is make-up free. As she steps around the breakfast bar, I notice she’s wearing the shortest denim shorts I think I’ve ever seen, showing off her amazing legs, putting me back into almost as bad a state as I was when I woke up at the sight. She has on a white tank top that’s low enough to show the swell of her breasts, and a pale yellow cardigan. It’s simple, but seriously fucking hot. I think I’ve got a problem, and it needs fixing before I do something stupid.
“So, where are we actually going?” Molly questions as we pull away from my mate’s drive in his van. It’s so big that I’m not hugely confident driving it, but it will fit everything in it that we need to buy.
“Reading.”
“Why the hell are we going there? Aren’t there enough shops to pick from in Oxford?”
“Yes, I guess there are, but there isn’t an IKEA,” I reply.
“WHAT?” Molly shouts, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve always wanted to go to IKEA,” she replies. looking at me with a beaming smile that goes all the way to her eyes.
“You’ve never been?” I ask, laughing at her reaction.
“No. I always hear people talking about it. It sounds awesome. I’m so excited! Eek, it’s like an early birthday present for me.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Molls.” She looks over at me and raises an eyebrow, prompting me to explain. “You’ve grown up with enough money around you to have anything you could possibly want, but I take you somewhere as everyday as IKEA and you look like I’ve just made all your dreams come true.” And fuck me if I don’t love that look on her face right now. I promise myself to put it there as often as possible. I don’t really think anyone has bothered to before, and that makes me feel so sad for her.
“Ry, you know I’m not into the whole money thing. I learnt from a young age that I’d rather have no money but loving friends and family around me.”
“I do know that. You just take me by surprise with it, sometimes. I used to get dragged around IKEA by my mum and little sisters at least four times a year when I was growing up. It just seems so normal to me.” Her bottom lip trembles as she imagines what I’ve just said. “Molly, don’t do that. I want you to be happy. I promise you, you will have a family of your own like that one day. Today is meant to be a happy day.” I give her thigh a gentle squeeze to try to break her out of her daydream.
“You’re right; today is happy. What was our motto? Live, laugh, love,” she says, reminding me of the pact we made together not so long ago.
By one o’clock, we’ve spent two hours going backwards and forwards around the showroom section while Molly to-and-froed over her choices. At last, we’re sat in the café for lunch. I’m stood in the queue, watching Molly sat at a table going through the items on her list against the photos she’s taken on her phone. She eventually decided on pale grey furniture for her bedroom—very shabby chic, apparently.
As I walk over to her with a plate of Swedish meatballs each, warmth fills me seeing just how happy she is. We still have the marketplace to go. I’m sure her head is going to explode before we get out of here.
“Wow, they were so good. I need the recipe,” she comments, having not come up for air once while demolishing her food. I’ve never known a woman enjoy her food like Molly does but still manage to keep her amazing figure.
“There’s a little food hall by the exit. You can buy all the stuff to make them,” I explain.
“Really?” she exclaims. I nod in response. “Wow, this place is awesome. Are you done?”
“Yes, come on, let’s go,” I say as I clear the table.
“Do you think we need a trolley?” Molly asks as we enter the marketplace.
“You’re kidding, right?” I ask, laughing. There’s no way we’re getting out of here without a full trolley.
“I’ll take your laughter as a yes, shall I?”
We have a great time looking at everything. I pick up a few things for the house, but I mostly just enjoy watching Molly take it all in. I’m sure the expression on her face is similar to a child’s at DisneyLand.
It’s almost three by the time I manage to get her away from the candles and into the section to find and pick up all her furniture. Our trolley is overflowing with all sorts of stuff, and I’ve nearly taken out about five people with the rug Molly chose for her room that’s sticking out just at the right height for other shoppers’ heads.
“We need to be quick, or we’ll end up getting locked in,” I say as Molly leads the way with another empty trolley to put all the flat-packs on.
“Ah, that would be awesome. It would be just like that film where they get locked in a department store. I’ve always wanted to do that! Oh, over here,” she says, pointing down an aisle.
“I’m going to go and take the van back.”
We’ve been home for three hours, and we’re in flat-pack hell. I’ve made her bed so at least she can have somewhere comfortable to sleep tonight, and she’s just finishing her second bedside table. The two wardrobes, two chests of drawers, and bathroom cabinets are still leaning up against the wall in the hallway. The end is most definitely not in sight.
“Okay, I’ll finish this one, then go and make us some sandwiches for when you get back. Are you still set on getting all this done tonight?”
“Yes! You will have a whole bedroom when you eventually get in that bed tonight.”
“Okay, well, hurry then, because I can’t do this alone.”
I do need to get the van back so my mate can go to work tomorrow, but mostly I need to get away from the sight of Molly leant over a bedside cabinet wearing those shorts with a screwdriver in her hand.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never seen Molly in any way but as a platonic friend. Even the first night when we met and she practically threw herself at me, I was just not interested. Maybe it’s because that’s how she first introduced herself. I’ve always gone for the quieter girls, the ones who wait to be asked out, not the ones who go after what they want. I guess my type over the years has also been taller, more athletic builds, whereas Molly is shorter and has some seriously sexy curves. We’ve spent a lot of time together over the past six months, and not once have I had any thoughts that I shouldn’t be having about her. I mean, yeah, I did have other things filling my mind, but what’s changed so suddenly? She moved in two days ago, and all I can think about is her body, being inside her, and wanting to make her happy.
I think I was right this morning; I seriously need to get laid. But is it too soon? a little voice in my head asks, reminding me of everything I’ve been through.
When I get back an hour later, she has both bedside tables in place and is moving the standing cabinet into the bathroom.
“Wow, you didn’t hang around while I was gone,” I say, watching her from the doorway.
“I just can’t wait to see it all finished. I haven’t done the sandwiches, though. I was just going to put this in
place, then go make them. I thought you’d be gone longer.”
“I did consider staying for a beer and letting you get on with it, but I didn’t think that was fair,” I explain as I start to open up the packaging for the wardrobes.
I’m tacking the back of the first wardrobe on when Molly reappears with food and drink.
“Picnic on the bed,” she says, nodding towards it.
I finish what I’m doing, then go and sit opposite her with the plate between us. “I need to talk to you about something,” I say, grabbing my first sandwich.
“You can’t kick me out already; the furniture isn’t all made yet.”
“Very funny. Actually, we won’t be talking about it. I’ve got to tell you something.”
“Okaaay, go on,” she’s says, starting to look nervous.
“You know what Tuesday is, right?” I ask, but I know the answer. There’s no way she’d forget that it’s been six months since she lost her best friend. She nods, looking suddenly sad.
“A couple of months ago, I booked to go away so I wouldn’t be home and miserable for the anniversary. Since I booked it, thanks to you and that counsellor you found, I feel totally different about it. I no longer want to disappear for a week and be lonely and miserable. I want to go and celebrate her. Does that make sense?”
“Of course it does. I totally get it. I want to celebrate her, too.”
“I want you to come with me. I’ve already—”
“Ryan, no, I can’t just tag along because you don’t want to leave me alone. Plus, I’ve got work and shifts at Cocoa’s next week.”
“Will you listen to me, woman? If you hadn’t so rudely interrupted, you would have heard me explain that I’ve already spoken to Susan, and Lilly and Dec are going to work your shifts at Cocoa’s. I’ve spoken to the company I booked the holiday with, and there’s Wi-Fi so you can take your laptop and work on whatever projects you’ve got at the moment, and they confirmed that although there’s only one bed, there is a day bed and plenty of room for two people to stay.”
Falling For Ryan: Part One Page 4