Chapter 13 Ryder
Ryder
Ithink for a moment about the question Lily just asked me, picking up a purple bead from the array and slipping it onto the bracelet I’m making. “The Count of Monte Cristo,” I reply.
“Oh, I saw the movie for that one!” Lily exclaims, looking up from her bracelet. “I loved it! The one with Jim Caviezel and—”
“No,” I say firmly, cutting her off. “Not that one. Never that one.”
Her eyes widen comically, and she breaks into a grin. It’s two in the morning, and we’ve been talking for an hour and a half while making friendship bracelets for each other, but her energy hasn’t waned at all. “Whyever not?”
“They deviated so much from the original storyline. The love story with Mercedes, and don’t get me started on the son! It’s a mess.”
Lily touches her hand to her chest. “But it’s so romantic!”
“Exactly!” I raise my hands in exasperation. “The Count of Monte Cristo is not a love story. It’s a revenge story.”
“It’s got that, too,” Lily insists, but the teasing glint in her eye tells me she knows this is all in good fun. “I think you need to give it another try.”
I don’t want to. I watched it a few years back and complained the entire time. But something about Lily’s wide eyes and hopeful gaze makes me say, “Okay. Just for you.”
She slides another black bead onto the bracelet. “That’s it. Next time you visit, we’ll do a movie night.” Her expression falters, and her eyes dart up to mine as her cheeks flush with pink. “I mean, if you come visit again…”
“It’s a plan,” I say with a disarming smile, and she grins back. I grab another purple bead. “But when do I get to introduce you to my favorite things?”
“Like what?”
“Like reading the book version of The Count of Monte Cristo.”
Lily groans and rolls her eyes.
“What?” I ask. “Do you hate reading?”
“No. I actually love reading, but I stick to romance.”
“Oh, really?” I ask. “What’s your favorite book?”
“You’ve probably never heard of it.”
“Try me.” Gwen has enlightened me in the world of romance books, even though I haven’t read many myself.
Her brows rise. “Fine. It’s called Wish Upon a Star by Moira Kensington.”
My eyes widen and I clear my throat.
“Have you heard of it?” Lily asks. “She’s a pretty small author, but I didn’t think—”
“No. Never heard of it.” Gwen will KILL me if I let it slip.
“Well, her books aren’t like school books. I actually enjoy these.”
“The Count of Monte Cristo isn’t for school,” I retort. “It’s for fun.”
“Tell me again how a book that’s over a thousand pages is fun.”
“Trust me,” I say. “You’ll love it.”
She twists her lips to the side, and she’s so adorable I nearly poke her in the ribs to make her giggle, but then she holds out her hand with a huge smile and says, “Deal.”
I set the bracelet to the side and put her hand in mine for a shake, and instantly I’m brought back to the moment when I held her hand and listened to the music.
Her hand fits so perfectly in mine. I thought she’d have a tiny hand, but her fingers are long and graceful, and they wrap around my palm, sending a buzz through my hand, up my arm, and into my chest.
She seems like she’s having a similar reaction, because her smile falls slightly as she holds my gaze, and I can see her pulse flutter in her delicate throat. She pulls her hand back, and her eyes dart back to the bracelet she was making. “I just need to tie this off, and then it’s done.”
“Same,” I say. We make quiet work of finishing our bracelets.
“Okay, show me yours,” Lily says a minute later.
I present her with a bracelet of varying shades of purple, with the words Lily of the Tower.
Her eyes light up as she takes it from me.
“I love it! Thank you!” She slides it on her wrist, and I’m a little jealous that I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to put it on her, touching her skin again.
“Here’s mine,” she says, her voice a little shy. She hands me a bracelet of entirely black beads.
“Excellent color choice,” I say. “What does it say, tough guy?” I turn the bracelet until I find the words: be still.
I’m silent for a moment as I process the words. She didn’t write stop moving or calm down, which is what I was always told in school. Instead, it’s be still. The words themselves soothe something in me.
Lily clears her throat. “I hope that wasn’t too intense or weird, I just thought it could be a good reminder of tonight, and—”
“It’s perfect,” I say, sliding it on my wrist. “I love it. I couldn’t have thought of anything better.” I look back at her, and our gazes lock. There’s a layer of understanding between us that I haven’t experienced with anyone else. Does she feel it, too?
Suddenly, her eyes flick to the clock on the wall, then back to me. “You should probably go.”
I’m thrown off by her sudden turn, but who am I to protest? It’s her tower, after all. Actually, it’s her bedroom. So if she wants me out, I’ll leave, even if I’d happily stay here for hours, talking and hearing her laugh.
I stand and stretch my arms over my head. “I’ll come back tomorrow?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the hope from my voice.
She bites her lip, a worried look on her face. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
I grab my leather jacket from the couch and slide it on. “We can watch The Count of Monte Cristo?” I ask, like a peace offering.
It works. She grins from ear to ear. “Sounds great. I’m gonna make sure you love it this time.”
I shift on my feet, trying to decide how I should say goodbye. A hug? Handshake? Salute? Wave and toss my legs over the balcony? Everything feels like too much or too little.
But Lily answers the question for me. She steps toward me and reaches one arm around my waist, giving me a friendly side-hug. She tilts her head up and looks at me. “Thanks for coming. It’s been…” Her eyes fill with emotion, and she swallows. “I’m really glad you came.”
I grin down at her. “I’m glad I came, too.”
We stand there, side-by-side, for another moment, my arm around her shoulders, before she jumps out of my grasp. “Okay, good night!” She rushes over to her bed and climbs under the covers.
I chuckle to myself as I head to the balcony, wondering what’s going on in her mind, and half-hoping she’s feeling the same thing I am.
Because there’s nothing I want to do more than come back and spend time with her.
I sleep in the next morning, exhausted from the conversation we had, and spend the afternoon playing with Gwen and the boys. Gwen doesn’t ask any questions about last night, so she must not have known that I was gone.
That night, I climb the tower with a lot more confidence, knowing there are no booby traps. Freaking Henry, trying to scare me off.
As I swing my leg over Lily’s balcony, I wonder what I’m in for tonight. More music lessons? More talking? My heart races, whether it’s from the climb or anticipation, I’m not really sure.
I knock on the door, a little more confident that she knows I’m coming. She answers it quickly, swinging the door open with a grin on her face, her long hair braided over her shoulder. “Hi!”
For the first time, she’s not wearing pajamas. Did she purposely keep regular clothes on? Before today, she was just wearing baggy pants and pajamas, and now she’s wearing a pink sweater with fitted jeans. My mouth goes dry at the way her clothes hug her curves.
I get a hold of myself, though, managing a very eloquent, “Hey.”
She steps out of the way, and I walk in. Say something, Ryder! “Uh, it smells good in here.”
“I baked a sourdough,” she says. “Frederic Dough-pin was dying to be made into another loaf.”
“Who?”
She snorts a laugh. “My sourdough starter. I named him Frederic Dough-pin.”
I rack my brain for the pun but can’t come up with one.
She sighs heavily. “You need more music education. Frederic Chopin? Only my favorite composer of all time?”
I shrug a shoulder. “I told you, I’m not into classical music.”
She puts a sassy hand on her hip. “What am I going to do with you?” she asks.
I smirk at her. “Teach me, I guess,” I reply, a flirtatious lilt to my words.
Her eyes widen, and her cheeks pinken. “Yeah, I, uh…guess so.” She turns and heads to the kitchen, busying herself with taking a giant, circular loaf of bread out of a huge pot. I notice she’s wearing the bracelet I made her, and it does something funny to my chest.
I slide my jacket off and don’t miss the way her eyes rove over me, then catch on the bracelet she made for me. A tiny smile appears on her lips, but she doesn’t openly acknowledge it. Instead, she gestures at the bread. “Well, here it is. Have you had fresh sourdough before?”
I shake my head, and she clicks her tongue.
“I might be living in a tower, but you’re living under a rock,” she says.
I laugh out loud before reminding myself that I need to keep it down. The last thing I want to do is hide in Lily’s closet again while Agatha barges in to look for something.
Lily slices a piece of bread, steam rising in her tiny kitchen, and spreads some butter over it, then hands it to me. “Careful, it’s hot.”
I take a bite of the bread, and it’s easily one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted. Soft with a crunchy rim, just the right amount of sour. “This is amazing.”
“Right?” Lily slices a piece for herself and takes a bite, then slumps with a smile. “Nothing like fresh sourdough.”
I finish my piece, and before I ask for more, Lily has already sliced and buttered another. I take it from her with a grin. “So, what did you want to do tonight?”
“Uh, watch The Count of Monte Cristo, of course,” she replies. “Unless you’re too chicken.”
“Chicken? What would I be afraid of?”
“That I’m going to be right, and your entire worldview is about to be shattered.”
I snort a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m still going to hate it.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” She bounces around me, bounding over to the TV and pulls out a giant case of CDs. She pulls one out and puts it in the tray of the DVD player by the TV.
“You don’t have streaming?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “Only DVDs.”
I walk over to her and start flipping through the book. There are easily five hundred movies in here. Maybe there’s even one I’ve done…
I point to Destination: Heights. “I’m in this one.”
Her jaw drops. “No way.”
I chuckle. “I didn’t think that would be exciting to you, when your brother’s a big-name actor.”
“It’s not the same!” She pulls it out of the sleeve and ejects The Count of Monte Cristo. “You do death-defying stunts. Adam has someone else do them for him.” She pauses, her hand in the middle of switching the DVDs. “Have you done stunts for him before?”
I shake my head. “Not quite large enough for that.”
She snorts a laugh. “I don’t know about…” Her eyes widen, and she clears her throat. “Uh, okay. So you have done stunts for Sterling Moore though?”
“Yep. And Ryan Gosling and Glen Powell.” And Tristan Jackson, I think but don’t say out loud.
Her mouth drops open. “Okay, I need to see you in action.” She finishes swapping the DVDs and hands me the remote. “Find your scene.”
I skip forward, the DVD remote a little awkward after so many years of using streaming platforms, until I find my scene halfway through the movie. “There.” I point at myself on the screen. “That’s me, climbing the burning building.”
“No. Way.” She leans in closer to the TV, as if trying to see my face, but the production studio makes sure it’s almost impossible. “Oh, I see it. I swear I see it.”
“Sure you do.”
“No, I do!” She points at my arms. “Those are definitely your arms. Your flipping flirtatious muscles.”
“My what?”
“Your…” Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn bright red when she realizes what she said.
“Uh, I meant your fantastic muscles. Or, no, your fabulous muscles. Ack!” She twirls her hands in the air.
“Your…oh, whatever.” Her shoulders droop as she surrenders.
“Your flirtatious muscles,” she mutters in defeat.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be objectified. “My flirtatious muscles,” I repeat.
She nods, her expression grim. “But it’s not their fault.”
I cross my arms over my chest and laugh.
She gestures at me. “See! Right there! Your muscles are just begging for attention.” She points at the screen.
“And there they are, on display while you climb a burning building. I can’t even.
” She throws her hands up in the air and rushes over to the couch, where she grabs a pillow and hugs it to her chest. She buries her face in the cushion and mumbles something.
“What was that?” I ask.
She lifts her face and meets my eyes. “I’m so embarrassed.”
I walk over and sit next to her, not so close that we’re touching, but just near enough. “I’m sorry my muscles are so distracting.”
She squeaks and buries her face in the pillow again.
“I could just show you another movie I’m in, and we can pretend this conversation never happened.”
She nods, her face still in the pillow, so I get up and flip through the CD case until I find Iron Shackles. I put it in the player, sit next to her, and skip forward until I find my scene.
“There we go. Riding a motorcycle.”
She slowly pulls her face from the pillow and looks at the TV, but not before her eyes dart to mine and quickly away.
Maybe I told her we’d pretend this conversation never happened, but there’s no way I’ll be able to forget that Lily thinks I’m hot.