Chapter 21
twenty-one
WREN
I wake up to warm skin, tangled sheets, and the soft sound of Ryan breathing next to me. I don’t open my eyes right away, because I know when I do, the real world will rush in. I just want to stay right here, in the bubble of being not quite awake.
Last night clings to me. Ryan… His voice, his hands, the way he looked at me like I wasn’t just some girl on a reality show. It was everything. I roll over and find that Ryan is on his side.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t snore. I guess I figured that someone as big as he is would snore like a trucker.
His arm is slung over my waist like it belongs there. My face is tucked under his chin. He’s still asleep, but I can feel the way his chest rises and falls. Steady, warm, grounding.
I should feel smug or maybe satisfied. I should feel powerful. This man, this hockey god, got on his knees for me last night.
Instead, I feel like I might throw up. Because now it’s real. Not just a fantasy I could rewrite in my head a hundred different ways. Now he’s seen me. Touched me. I don’t get to take that back.
Last night was the best night of my life so far. This morning is easily the second best.
That’s the problem.
This wasn’t supposed to feel good. Not this good. Not heart-in-the-throat, nerves-on-fire, what-if-I-let-myself-fall good.
I stare at his pretty face. His hair falls gently over his forehead and into his eyes. The urge to reach out and brush it back is almost overwhelming.
Yeah. I have to get out of here before he wakes up and bursts my bubble.
Ever so carefully, I ease myself out of his arms, gently placing his arm on the bed. Then I sit up and move over to the edge. For some reason, my heart’s racing.
What’s wrong with me? That I liked it that much? That I wanted it to mean something?
No one ever looks at me and sees forever. I’m the footnote. The afterthought. The nice girl who’s never quite enough.
It meant something to me. But I know better than to think I meant something to him.
I rub my hand over my face, trying to control my heart rate. But it’s too late. The spiral’s already happening.
I like fucking him too much.
I like him too much. Goddamn it.
I think he saw me last night. Really saw me. Instead of running, he stayed. That’s what’s messing me up the most.
The second he wakes up, he’ll decide it was just a onetime thing. Just a showmance gone too far. I will be the punchline.
My mouth twists like I’ve eaten something bitter.
This feeling? This is the reason I haven’t ever slept with anyone.
The sheets rustle behind me. A hand slides across my back to my hip, pulling me gently backward.
Ryan’s voice is low, still rough and sleepy. “Hey. Where’d you go?”
I hate myself more than I can say, but I automatically collapse back into bed. Tears prick my eyes. I have to take a deep breath to control myself.
“Just say it,” I whisper.
“Say what?”
“Say that you think it was a mistake,” I answer. “I know you do.”
The words scald my throat on the way out, bitter and humiliating. I hate how small I sound. How hopeful.
I brace myself for the dismissal. For the part where he shrugs and says, cool story, kid . Because that’s what always happens. I expect him to act like I’m lucky to be noticed at all.
He puts his finger under my chin and tips my face toward him. “What are you talking about?”
His touch is gentle. Too gentle. Like I might shatter. Which is ironic, since I’m already shattering inside.
I shake my head. “You don’t have to pretend. I get it. It got heated. We got caught up in it. Now you’re…”
“Wren, stop.” His palm rests on my chest, just above my heart. “Breathe.”
I suck in a deep breath, but it doesn’t seem to help. His big body shifts so he’s half on his side, but half holding me down with one thigh.
“Stop deciding how I feel before I’ve even had coffee,” he teases. His voice is gentle.
I let out a strangled laugh. His lips twitch with humor, but he sounds perfectly calm as he says, “We slept together. That’s not something I take lightly. Well, not with you, at least.”
I mumble, “But you basically hate me.”
He looks as shocked as if I had just slapped him. “You think I could hate you?”
“You’ve said worse.”
“I’ve said stupid shit because you get under my skin,” he says. “But hate you? No. Never.”
I press my lips together. I thought for sure that I knew how Ryan felt about me. Now uncertainty claws at my belly.
We lie there for a few beats. Then he mutters, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or feel right now. Should I sneak over to your brother’s house and break in? Let him punch me in the face when he finds out I slept with you?”
I roll my eyes, even though my throat is still tight. “God, no.”
Ryan’s hand comes up to my face and he brushes several strands of my hair back. “I don’t want to do that. I want to stay here. I want you to stay here with me, in bed all day.”
Last night we broke the rules. Maybe we should just keep breaking them. For today, I mean.
My breath hitches. He might think what we did was a mistake, but he doesn’t seem overly ashamed or anything.
I lick my lips and ask, “Can we fuck again?”
His mouth curves upward into a grin. “You’re asking?”
I nod, biting my lip.
“Come here,” he says.
He pulls me under him, kissing me slow and deep.
Afternoon light spills across the bed. I’m in his T-shirt and nothing else, curled against his side, half asleep and wholly content.
My stomach growls. He brushes a kiss over my lips and murmurs, “I should order food. You hungry?”
My stomach growls again and he laughs. “Never mind, don’t answer that. I’ll be right back.”
He pads to the bathroom and then grabs his cell phone to order food. “Java Monkey okay?” he asks.
“Since when have I ever turned down my favorite food from my favorite coffee shop?” I ask.
He smirks and places the order.
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings. I assume he placed a contactless delivery. That’s the only thing I’ve ever done anyway, so I run downstairs after pulling on a pair of panties. I’m already fantasizing about the coffee and carbs that are about to be in my hands at home.
As I open the door, the only problem is, I come face-to-face with Ellie. Ryan’s younger sister.
She’s standing on the front stoop holding our takeout. Her eyes widen as she takes me in.
“Wren,” she says, her tone surprised.
I swear I turn six shades of purplish red. “I thought you were the food delivery,” I explain awkwardly.
She holds out a bag. “Yeah, I ran into the delivery girl. She looked pretty overwhelmed. I was happy to take the order off her hands. I guess I should’ve let her come to the door, huh?”
“Yeah, ha!” I swallow. “Right. Uh, thanks.”
I accept the bag. She smirks and looks me up and down.
“You should go back upstairs before your legs give out. Tell my brother that I’ll call him later.”
“Thanks,” I say, not knowing what else I could say. I close the door and bolt upstairs, my face on fire.
When I burst into Ryan’s room, I practically yell, “It was Ellie.”
“Delivering food?” he asks, his voice quizzical.
“She took the delivery. Accepted the delivery from the delivery girl.”
He groans. “Ah. Of course she did.”
I set the paper bag on his bed, the paper cups on the bedside table, and then look at him. “Why are you not freaking out more? She knows. She saw me in this.”
I indicate his T-shirt hanging off my body.
He sits up, pulls a face, and stretches. “It’s not the greatest thing, but Ellie won’t tell anybody. She knows how to keep a secret.”
I cock my hips and put my hands on them. “What if she tells Jay?”
“She won’t. Even if she did, it could’ve been worse. Jay could’ve been at the door.”
I groan and flop down beside him.
“We’ll be all right,” he says. He grabs the brown bag and opens it. “I think we got away with it this time.”
He hands me a large paper cup.
“If this is drip coffee, I don’t really want it. I only like sweet, milky coffee. Preferably?—”
“A tall white mocha?” He arches a brow. “Yeah, I know. It’s what you always order at Java Monkey. I even got it with caramel drizzled on top.”
My mouth opens and closes. Ryan knows my regular order? How?
“Don’t look so surprised.” He smirks. “I’ve only seen you order it like five hundred times. I’m telling you, Rustin. I know you.”
“Uh… thanks.” I blush as I grip the cup in both hands, like I need the warmth. Sure, it’s the middle of summer. But my head is spinning and I feel like I need to hold onto something to anchor me.
I wonder again if he has been paying more attention than I thought. Ryan contentedly sips what I think is an iced Americano or a black iced coffee. Not what I would’ve guessed.
Then he looks into the bag, eyeing the variety of bagels and cream cheese packets. “This looks good. Should we go downstairs?”
“Are you kidding? I am never leaving this bed again.”
He gives me a sharp look. “Eating in bed is disgusting.”
I ignore him and pluck a cinnamon raisin bagel from the bag. I take a bite.
“I’m still doing it,” I declare.
He smirks. “Gross.”
I sip my coffee and then recline, stretching out and smiling at him. “What if I said you could eat it off me, if you’d rather?”
“That’s the best suggestion you’ve ever had,” he growls.
He pounces immediately, knocking the bag of bagels to the floor and tackling me into the pillows.
I don’t disagree.