14 MADDY #2
“Hobbies. Pet names. Where you see yourself in five years. Or my personal favourite—if you were an animal, what animal would you be?”
“You’d be a German shepherd.”
His mouth curves immediately. “Oh yeah? Because they’re fast, athletic, highly respected—”
I snort into my wine, interrupting him. “No. Because they think they’re the fastest thing in the room.”
His brows lift and I take a sweet sip. “But they’re really not.”
“…Wow.” He leans back in his chair, gesturing his hand over the table. “After everything I’ve done.”
I laugh as I put down my glass softly back on the table. “Okay,” I say after a second. “But let’s do a real date question.”
He rolls his shoulders, pushes his sleeves a little higher, the watch around his wrist moving with him. “Let’s do it.”
“What are your plans for the future?”
He laughs at first, like he expects it to be a joke, then he settles back in his chair and actually thinks about it.
“Finish school,” he says. “Then I want to do the trainer program. Which is basically just supporting rookies with all the physical training.”
I narrow my eyes, processing it. “So… like a teacher?”
“Kind of.” He tilts his head once. “More like a coach, I would say.”
“That fits,” I say, nodding. “I can totally picture you yelling motivational insults at twenty-year-olds.”
He snorts. “That’s the only reason.”
I tilt my head. “What do you like most about it so far? Police training, I mean.”
He looks down at his glass for a second, then back up at me, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “You want the real answer?”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning forward slightly. “Or are you about to say something like ‘catching bad guys and driving fast cars.’”
“No,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “It just feels good knowing I can actually help people.” He shrugs. “Especially after what happened with Norman.”
Something in my chest tightens at that.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to be scared of the person who’s supposed to just love you.
I’ve seen his dad—or Norman—a few times.
He never said much. Just stood there with that hard, closed-off look, like he didn’t really want to be in the room.
I remember always feeling relieved when Ryan ended up back at our house instead.
And I know that he drank too much, that he had a temper.
But we’ve never actually talked about it.
“Well,” I say finally. “For what it’s worth… I think it’s pretty impressive you took all that shit and turned it into something good instead of, you know—” I gesture vaguely. “Becoming him.”
He looks at me like he wasn’t expecting that. Then his expression softens. “Thanks.”
And then, right on cue, the smirk comes back. “But yeah. Catching bad guys and fast cars did do it for me.”
That makes me laugh softly and at that exact moment, the waitress places our dishes in front of us. We thank her at the same time and then Ryan looks up at me again.
“What about you? What’s the best part of nursing so far?”
I shrug. “Kind of the same as you to be honest. I just like being there for people when they need it.”
He nods, wearing an expression that shows he’s really listening, so I keep going. “I’ve always wanted to do it. Even when we were kids.”
His mouth curves. “Yeah. I remember that.”
Geez—does he remember everything?
“You carried around a whole first-aid kit,” he says, smiling like he’s watching it happen again. “Bandages, wipes, even those tiny scissors. One time I scraped my knee and you wrapped it up like it was an actual emergency. Had me sit down, checked my pulse, told me not to move.”
“Oh my God, yeah I did.” I laugh, taking my first bite as the memory clicks into place. “I just felt so cool. Like I could save all the world’s problems with a bandage and some wipes.”
“That’s why you chose it, right?” He asks. “Nursing.”
“Yeah,” I say, hesitating for a moment. “That. And my mom.”
His expression shifts immediately into something softer. His green eyes stare into mine, while a soft curl falls just above his eyebrow.
“I guess I just hope I can prevent missing someone like that for another family.” I softly say, a lump forming in my throat.
“That’s really great, Mads,” he says, voice low.
“Thank you.”
Our eyes stay locked for a moment before Ryan leans back in his chair and lifts his glass. “Alright,” he says. “That’s enough emotional conversation for one night.”
I laugh. “Agreed.”
“Rapid fire,” he continues. “No thinking.”
“Oh no.”
“Favourite song. Go.”
I blink. “Right now or all time?”
“All time.”
“Every Breath You Take by The Police.”
He nods immediately. “Good one.”
“Okay,” I say. “Favourite ice cream flavour.”
“Easy,” he replies. “Vanilla.”
I stare at him. “No.”
He frowns. “What do you mean, no?”
“That cannot be your favourite,” I say. “That’s the most boring answer you could’ve picked.”
He scoffs. “Vanilla is classic.”
“It’s also what you say when you don’t want to commit,” I argue. “Chocolate chip, cookie dough, salted caramel, pistachio. All objectively better.”
“You just don’t know your classics,” he says lightly and I just shake my head.
The rest of the dinner drifts by easily.
The lights dim slightly, casting a warm glow over the entire restaurant.
Women's jewellery stand out a little more as they move, wine glasses hanging on a rack behind the bar shine, almost sparkle. And with the soft music playing through the speakers, it almost feels like we’re in a Jazz bar in the middle of Paris.
But for some reason, my eyes are glued to him.
The light catches along his jaw, shaping his features, and it turns his eyes a darker shade of green.
His watch shifts across his wrist when he lifts his glass to his lips.
And I think if he looked like this every day, girls would start breaking girl code and still flirt with him.
Suddenly Ryan shifts a little closer, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Okay,” he murmurs, just low enough for me to hear. “We should probably look like we’re actually a couple.”
“What? We look like we’re—”
Before I can even process, he moves in one smooth motion. His hand grips the bottom of my chair and pulls it closer to his, closing the space between us instantly.
I suck in a breath and butterflies fill my stomach.
“Just act like we’re talking about something boring,” he murmurs, his mouth close to my ear.
I huff a quiet laugh. “Weren’t we already doing that?”
Before he can reply, the waitress returns, gathering our empty plates with a bright smile. “Can I interest you in dessert? We’ve got a special tonight.”
Ryan and I glance at each other for half a second, speaking silent words, then nod in sync. “Yes, please.”
“Perfect,” she says. “It’s on the house. For the newest couple.”
“Well,” Ryan says smoothly, “that’s very sweet.”
“Thank you,” I add, biting back a grin.
The second she walks away, we both laugh quietly, shoulders shaking, still sitting way too close. Our knees are brushing every time one of us moves and I prop my chin on my hand, leaning a little toward him. “This is working a little too well.”
Ryan leans in too, voice low. “Should we start charging for autographs?”
“Yeah, next thing you know they’ll build a statue of us.”
He smiles and neither of us moves back.
Ryan pulls up in front of my house and cuts the engine. As we walk up the path, the porch light clicks on, bathing everything in soft yellow.
“I’ll get the next one, by the way,” I say, nudging my keys free from my purse. “Then it’s on me.”
Ryan’s brows lift. “Next date? You really can’t go that long without me, huh?”
I shove lightly at his chest. “Oh, shut up.”
A quiet laugh slips out of him, easy and warm. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You sure?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’ve got it.”
I snort. “Thank you.”
And now we’re just standing here. My brain scrambles. What do I do now? Do I hug him? No. That feels weird. Too much. Do I wave? No. That's worse. I settle for the safest option.
“Well,” I say. “Uh—thanks. For tonight.”
He nods, placing his hands into his pocket. “Yeah. You too.”
I turn toward the door, fingers already on the handle, when he adds, almost casually, “You looked really nice tonight.”
I pause, then glance back. “Thanks.”
He gives me a small, warm smile before turning around. “Goodnight, Mads.”
“Night, Ry.”
I step inside, closing the door behind me, and through the window I watch him walk back to his car before pulling away.
“Hey, Cinderella.” Noah’s voice drifts in from the kitchen. I follow the sound and find him perched on one of the bar stools, one elbow propped casually on the counter. He looks up at the flowers, then back at me with a slow smirk. “Had fun at the ball?”
I roll my eyes, slipping past him toward the cupboard. “Hilarious.”
I grab the first vase I find and carry it over to the sink, carefully filling it with water before placing the lilies inside. Their pale petals fan out softly as I adjust the stems, trying to make them sit right.
Right then Dad strolls into the kitchen. He slows when he notices the flowers, his gaze settling on the vase.
“Wow,” he says quietly, leaning in a little closer. Something soft and familiar flickers across his face. “Lilies.” His eyes lift to mine. “He knows you well.”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing down at the flowers again. “He knows his girlfriend very well.”
As I look at the flowers, I wonder what Mom would think if she could see this. Fake dating Ryan Drayton.
She’d probably give me a look and tell me not to do it. Something wise and reasonable about honesty and feelings and not creating unnecessary chaos. But then secretly she’d absolutely want every single detail.
She did always adore him. So she’d probably also tell me I at least picked the right one, because he’s a gentleman. Which to my surprise, he really is. I know this is all just the act. But I can’t help but wonder, would he do this on a real date too?