Chapter Six
Rygaard
The second she breezes past the living room, the air shifts, like static clinging to my skin, electric and alive. And then I catch her scent.Sweet. Addictive. Dangerous.
Damn it. I have to adjust myself just from a whiff. Tell me I’m gone without telling me I’m gone.
I start to turn, needing just a glimpse, but her heavy footfalls echo as she bolts up the stairs.
“What’s up with her?” I ask, pretending not to care as much as I do.
“What’s always up with her? Boy drama, I’m guessing.” Rafe doesn’t even look up from his PS5. “Go check on her, will ya?”
“She’s your sister. You go.”
“Nah. She actually likes you more than she likes me.”
“That’s ‘cause you still treat her like she’s twelve.”
“She is twelve, in my head. Go, man. Please?”
I get up, already smiling like a fool.Truth is, I was hoping for a reason to see her.
Her parents are working late, again. Always in my favor. Gives me time to watch her without interruption. Not that I ever get enough.
After practice, we came here to chill and game, same as always. Been trading off houses since forever. Football’s getting more intense by the day, and this is our decompression time. Sometimes we study, mostly we don’t.
Both of us are eyeing the future, college ball, maybe more, but lately, I’ve been questioning it. I love the game. I do. But I don’t want to live with the fear of one wrong hit ending it all. Ending me .
As I creep up the stairs, mind spiraling, I’m not even thinking about her possibly being half-naked in her room. I mean, I’ve seen it all before.
When I said she was just one of the guys, I meant it, back when she’d dance around the house in seashells and Rafe’s boxers on her head, singing SpongeBob at the top of her lungs.Poor girl thought she lived in Bikini Bottom, not Cedar Creek.
That girl? She loves to dance.
I used to catch her mid-mop, music blasting, windows open, barefoot and lost in the beat, thinking no one was watching.I was always watching.
Since she turned fourteen... Beautiful. Gorgeous. Talented. Mine.
My foot hits the landing. I pause. No music. That’s rare. I move toward her room.
Then I hear her voice through the door, tight with anger.
“I know, Ag, it just pisses me off that that douche had the nerve to go around telling people that. No wonder that bat and those little assholes said what they said.”
“Yeah, but fuck them,” Agatha fires back. “As long as you told your side, who gives a damn what that little dick prick has to say.”
I smirk. Where do they come up with this stuff?
“Girl, stop. I don’t want to laugh right now.”
Too late. She’s giggling.
“Too bad,” Agatha says. “Nobody should shed tears over Wiley McFucking Nag. He’s a fucking imbecile.”
“Yeah, but he made me look like a whore in front of half the school.”
I don’t even think, I shove the door open, letting it slam against the wall.
“What the fuck did he do?”
“Who is that?” Agatha says through the phone.
“Hang up,” I growl, stepping into the room, closing the door behind me.
Presley’s eyes widen like she’s about to argue. I raise a brow. She knows better. “Ag, let me call you ba- ”
I snatch the phone from her hand and hang up.
“Ry, why did you do that?” she asks, but I’m already closing the space between us.
“What exactly did that motherfucker say to you?”
She swallows hard. Hesitating.
She doesn’t want to say it because she knows how I’ll react.So I switch it up.
I cup her face, gently pulling her closer until my lips are brushing her ear. My voice drops low. “Tell me what happened. Because if you don’t, I’ll find out anyway… and my methods?” I pause, lips brushing her skin. “You might enjoy them a little too much.”
Then I press a kiss to her temple, lingering before stepping back.
Her eyes are wide, breath caught. I see the flush in her cheeks before she whispers, “Wh-what does that mean exactly?”
“You need to talk,” I say, my voice firmer now. “And you need to start talking now.”
She clears her throat, still flustered. “I don’t know what consequences you mean, but if I tell you, you have to promise not to go full big brother and fight him.”
“Don’t even ask that of me. Not in my blood, baby girl. I’ll do no such thing.”
“Ry,” she says in that warning tone that makes me want to do everything . “Promise me or I won’t tell you. And I want to tell you, because I want ice cream. And you’re taking me.”
You bet your ass I am.
“Presley,” I say, settling on the edge of her bed. “I’ll take you for ice cream after. But I’m not promising shit. I already warned that dirtbag to stay away from you. He didn’t. So now? He’s going to pay.”
Her expression softens, eyes dreamy, lips parted, brows arched like she’s trying not to fall under a spell.
She’s not afraid. She knows I stand on business.She just needs to decide if she’s ready to tell me, or make me take it from her.
“Goddamn it, Ry. When you look at me like that and threaten me...” She trails off.
“You what?”
She opens her mouth. Shuts it. Opens it again. Then, “Nothing. He’s basically telling people we slept together on that weak-ass date. I mean, I let him have it , but it still pisses me off. Like, ew. No. I only went out with him to make the boy I really like jealous.”
What.
She slaps a hand over her mouth like she just realized what she said.
“Shit. Omit that last part. Ignore it. Pretend I didn’t say it.”
She hops off the bed, trying to flee.
“Oh, hell no. Where do you think you’re going?” I’m off the bed in an instant, grabbing her gently around the waist. She spins around, flushed, eyes darker than usual, like melted hickory.
We stare for a beat before I say, “Who do you have a crush on, Presley Renée?”
Her gaze dips to my lips. I wet them deliberately. She rises onto her toes and kisses me.
Soft. Bold. Mine.
I wrap my arms around her, turning my head to deepen it, letting the pressure build, every breath, every sigh, every unspoken truth, spilling out between us.
Her lips are fine like wine. Her tongue is smooth like silk. And I’ve wanted this longer than I care to admit.
Just as I start to drown in it, She pulls away.
Breathless. Stunning. Swollen lips and stunned eyes.
“Fuck, Rygaard… I’m sorry,” she whispers, touching her mouth.
“Prez, you have nothing to be sorry for.” I reach for her face again. “I’ve wanted that kiss for years. I enjoyed it more than you’ll ever know.”
Her eyes brighten like sunrise through stained glass.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Then I lean in, one corner of my mouth tilted up.
“Now tell me, who’s the boy you’ve got a crush on?”