Chapter 37 Yelling, Interrupted
Yelling, Interrupted
Tessa
Maybe I was drunk. Maybe I was stupid. Probably I was both.
After all, it wasn't exactly normal to be wandering Main Street in the middle of the night.
But I couldn't sleep – and not for lack of trying either. But no matter how many times I had adjusted the covers or flipped the pillow, my brain had refused to shut off while the worries kept piling up.
My lost apartment. My shattered career. My missing sister. My struggling roommate. And yes, even Ryder Vaughn.
It was all too much. So here I was, tipsy on tiny bottles and worried out of my mind.
Was I stumbling?
Not a chance. If I were that drunk, I never would've ventured out, especially without a coat.
Call that mistake number one. The night was chilly, but in the beginning, I'd been toasty warm. Maybe from the booze. Maybe from the stress. Or maybe from the fact that when I'd slipped out through Maisie's back door, the temperature had been at least ten degrees warmer.
Or at least, it sure felt that way.
Regardless of the reason, my light sweatshirt was feeling thinner with every passing step.
I wasn't going anywhere in particular, but my feet kept moving like they had minds of their own. As for my real mind, it was moving even faster, churning dark and doomy under the ridiculously bright full moon.
I glanced up for another glimpse, only to feel my temperature spike as something much lower caught my eye.
No. Not something. Someone.
Ryder Freaking Vaughn.
Of course.
Four stories up, he was standing there in a plain white button-down with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he gripped the railing like a prisoner rattling a cage.
Except he wasn't moving.
He was only staring – and yes, straight in my direction – like he was just as stunned to see me as I was to see him.
My feet stopped. My breath caught. And I stared back, not bothering to hide it. It seemed only fair. I mean, if he had no shame, why should I?
The moment held until a nighttime cloud drifted over the moon, causing him to briefly disappear before the moonlight returned and glinted off his white shirt like a beacon for all kinds of trouble.
I felt my jaw clench. Enough.
Less than twelve hours ago, I'd promised myself that the next time I saw him, I'd be demanding answers regardless of the risk.
Apparently, that time was now. I stalked forward until I was standing just beneath his balcony – or more accurately, as close as I could get without breaking our line of sight.
I craned my neck to call out, "What are you doing here, anyway?"
He scoffed before calling back, "That's a funny question."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not the one walking around in the middle of the night."
"Yeah, well…" I paused. Well, what?
"See?" he called. "Even you don't have a good answer."
I put my hands on my hips. "I do, too!"
"Yeah? Well, let's hear it."
With a jerk of my chin, I called out, "What I'm doing is asking you a question. That's what."
Before Ryder could reply, a door somewhere below his balcony banged open, and a man's voice exploded into the night. "Hey! Some of us are trying to sleep up here!"
I stiffened as my eyes searched desperately for the source. But the moon – so brilliantly bright a moment ago – chose that exact moment to duck behind a cloud, throwing everything deep into shadow.
What I did see was the vague outline of someone big and beefy on the balcony directly below Ryder's. Judging from his outline, the guy was wearing either some kind of black kimono or a dark bathrobe that had no business being that short.
Even more troubling, he was leaning over the railing like he was ready to launch himself over the top and straight onto the street.
Thankfully, he didn't. Instead, he yelled out again. "It's one in the damn morning! Can't a guy get five minutes of peace on this island?"
Heat crawled up my neck. "Sorry!" I whisper-yelled. "I didn't realize—"
"Yeah, well, realize it now!" he snapped. "Some of us paid good money for our rooms!"
I frowned. As opposed to what? Bad money?
But I would never say it, because honestly, the guy had a point. I opened my mouth to apologize yet again when the cloud slid away, bringing the yeller bright into view.
Oh, crap.
The face – and more especially the beard – was all too familiar. Unless I was horribly mistaken, I was staring at the same bearded bicyclist who'd yelled at me and Ryder on the road.
But did he recognize me?
I sure as heck hoped not.
That hope held for barely a two seconds until he thundered, "It's you!" He said it like the last time I'd seen him, he'd caught me pooping into his pillow.
Oh, please. As if I could manage such a feat. Irritation got the best of me, and I hollered back, "Yeah? Well, it's you, too."
And besides, it wasn't just me – not tonight and not the other day either. After all, I hadn't been yelling to myself or standing alone in the path of his bike.
Both times, I'd had an accomplice.
Or so I thought – until I looked one story higher and discovered in a flash that Ryder's balcony was Ryder-free.
My jaw hit the floor. Seriously?
Some accomplice he was.
For some stupid reason, I thought of Delaney. Growing up, she'd been a magnet for all kinds of chaos. And yet, way too often, I'd been the one left holding the bag.
There was that time she'd thrown a snowball at a car and left me to deal with the angry driver.
And then, there was the night she'd set off that truck alarm "just to see if it worked," leaving me to explain to the irate neighbor that just because I'd been walking nearby, that didn't mean I was the culprit.
And then, there was the time she had opened the gate at that petting zoo because "the goats looked bored," only to vanish when a pair of them bounded free and started eating the zoo's prize-winning begonias.
I never ratted her out. And to her credit, she was good at saying she was sorry. But after a while, I started giving her chaos a wide berth, because whether she was sorry or not, I hated that kind of trouble.
And yet, Delaney or no Delaney, here I was, yelling at a stranger three stories up.
And he was yelling back. "And what's with you and roads?"
I threw up my hands. "What?"
"First, you're standing on the bike road, and now you're standing on this road. Is that your thing or what?"
My thing? Seriously? "Hey!" I hollered back. "It's the same road!"
This was true.
Sort of.
Main Street fed directly into the lazy loop that encircled the island. Sure, the name changed from Main Street to M-185, but it's not like there was a giant off-ramp with flashing yellow lights.
And besides, Main Street was, well…a street. It wasn't called Main Road, was it?
And now, here on this little stretch of it, I watched in stupid fascination as the guy leaned further over the railing, making his oversized beard sway like an angry mop.
He spat out, "You listen here, road stander…" His words trailed off as he turned his head slowly to my right.
As I turned to look, I saw what he saw – Ryder Vaughn heading toward me from heaven-knows-where.
My stomach fluttered as he closed the distance in a slow, steady stride. Was I staring?
Probably.
But how could I help it?
His tousled hair caught the light of the moon, his shirt clung in all the right places, and something about the way he moved made me feel like all of this would miraculously turn out fine.
But that was ridiculous, right?
I swallowed hard when he stopped a few paces away and glared up at the bearded stranger. "Hey!" Ryder called. "Some of us are trying to sleep."
My eyes widened. Us?
Really?
Oh, please. As if he'd been sleeping.
Up high, the bearded guy started to sputter. "Me? I wasn't the one yelling! It was her!" He jabbed a finger in my direction like I was the town menace.
Ryder didn't miss a beat. "All I heard was you." He folded his arms like a disappointed dad.
For my part, I tried not to notice the way his forearms flexed, making his muscles shift in ways that made my thoughts drift in dangerous directions. Unfortunately, one of those directions was just a little naked.
Damn it.
What was wrong with me, anyway?
Above us, the bearded wonder sputtered again. "Me?"
"Yeah, you," Ryder called back. He flicked his chin toward the hotel across the street. "I paid good money for that room, and I'll be damned if I'm getting woken up by some balcony yeller."
"Yeller?" the guy echoed, clearly insulted. "But she yelled first, not me."
Ryder snorted. "Listen, ZZ—"
"What!"
"You heard me."
I stifled a laugh as an image of that classic rock band, ZZ Top, flashed in my brain. Now that I thought about it, the guy's resemblance really was uncanny – except by now, the real musicians must've been double this guy's age.
And judging from his glare, he wasn't exactly a fan. "Listen, buddy! I'm not in no band! I'm a biker, okay?"
Ryder scoffed. "I don't care if you're training for the Tour de France, you need to keep it down."
"I'm not that kind of biker," the guy yelled. "I ride Harleys, not kiddie bikes."
I called out without thinking. "Hah! We saw you on a bicycle just the other day!"
The guy froze. He looked from me to Ryder. "Wait a minute…" He pointed at Ryder. "You! You were the guy with her. Weren't you?"
I sucked in a breath. Oh, crap.
Me and my big mouth. If only I'd kept it shut, the guy might've never made the connection.
And besides, why was I throwing around the "we" word, anyway? There was no we. It was just me and Ryder, totally separate and not even friends. Still, I had majorly screwed up, and I needed to own it.
But when I turned to Ryder with an apologetic look, he only shrugged as if to say, "Eh, don't worry about it."
But I still worried. How could I not?
Because now, three stories up, the guy in the robe looked ready to stomp down here and beat us with his non-existent guitar.
But then, a door slammed open behind him, and someone new stepped into the light – a woman wearing a skimpy black robe and one heck of a glare.
But she wasn't glaring at us. She was glaring at him. "Really?" she said. "I'm in the shower ten minutes and you're already catcalling blondes?"
"But I wasn't," the guy protested. "And I was yelling at him, not her."
Actually, he'd been yelling at both of us. But this time, I kept my mouth firmly shut. When I gave Ryder another glance, he flashed me a grin so devilish, I barked out a stupid laugh.
I hissed, "Troublemaker."
He was still grinning. "Road yeller."
Three stories higher, ZZ and his companion were still going back and forth. The guy was saying, "Come on, babe. That chick? She's nothing compared to you."
I couldn't help it. I smiled.
But when I looked to Ryder, his smile had faded, replaced by a look of mild irritation.
I asked, "What's wrong?"
"He just insulted you."
I laughed. "He did not. He was being loyal. I think it's sweet."
He looked faintly offended. "So, you're taking ZZ's side over mine?"
I wasn't following. "Sorry, what?"
He sidled closer to whisper, "I'd say she's nothing compared to you."
My pulse jumped. My stomach flipped. And my lips parted as the dumbest question tumbled out. "So why are you whispering?"
He gave the balcony a furtive glance. "Well…maybe, I don't want to hurt her feelings."
Awwww.
Apparently, Ryder Vaughn had a heart.
And mine? It had gone completely gooey.
Yup, this was definitely a problem.