Chapter 7
Using my copy of the house key, I let myself in the oversized front door. “Ry?” I call out, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. “You home?”
Silence greets me. The place is quiet and dark. I flip on a few lights as I move through the living room area and into the kitchen, the click of my boots loud on the marble floors.
Ryan's not back yet, so I take advantage of the time, straightening the throw pillows on the couch and carrying a few empty water bottles to the kitchen to dispose of.
An hour later, a thud sounds from the garage. I spin towards the doorway just as Ryan comes in, equipment bag slung over one shoulder. The rigid set of his jaw tells me everything I need to know about his current mental state.
“Hey, China Wall,” I tease, keeping my tone light. “I come bearing gifts from my first official bartending shift.”
I hold up the cup in my hand, waggling it enticingly. “It's a French martini. Vodka, Chambord, pineapple juice, and just a little Sprite for bubbles. Want to be my guinea pig?”
Ryan dumps his bag with a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face. When he looks at me, the barest hint of a smile tugs at his mouth. “Is it going to kill me?”
I gasp. “Ryan Wilder. I am not your friend at the moment–” He smiles. “But I’m a professional mixologist now, I'll have you know. I would never poison you.”
His smile grows, a real one this time. He reaches out to take the cup from me. “Well, in that case, let me be your guinea pig.”
Something in my chest goes soft and melty when his fingers touch mine. The look in his eyes is exactly what I needed to see after missing his game. This is how I’m going to make up for it. A quick martini to help him relax, and hopefully, he’ll forget all about the fact I wasn’t there in person.
I watch as he takes a sip, holding my breath. His eyes widen fractionally. “Damn, Baddie. That's actually really good.”
“Yeah?” I smile brightly. “You like it?”
“I more than like it.” He takes a longer pull, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “This might be dangerous. I could get used to coming home to one of these.”
My cheeks hurt now. “I think that can be arranged.”
Ryan polishes off the rest of the martini in a few gulps. When he lowers the cup, he's looking at me intently, something unfathomable in his gaze. “Yeah? You would do that for me, even though we’re not friends at the moment.”
I tap on the kitchen counter and hum. “So, guess what?”
His eyes flick to mine. “What?”
“My landlord emailed me and told me there’s no rent increase anymore. We’re keeping our old contract.”
His face softens. “What? That’s great.”
I pull it up on my phone and show him the email.
“Sick, Ads. So, you don’t need the bartending job anymore?”
I smile, taking my phone back. “What?”
“Yeah, you can make it to all my games now. Your nights are free again.”
I laugh. “Ry, the bar was filled with people watching the game. You wouldn’t believe it. I was training today, and I took home two hundred bucks in tips. Can you imagine that?”
“Two hundred?” he scoffs.
“Yeah, only because it was a game day. But I’m keeping the job as my cushion now. Plus, it comes with benefits. If I impress Mr. Taylor enough, we might go in on a bar together. At least, I hope.”
Ryan sits on the couch. “Shit. Wow.”
“What’s with the tone?” I ask because he’s clearly annoyed. He’s not even looking at me now, and he’s wearing a face I don’t like.
His brows flick. “Just a long night, and I thought you wouldn’t work the job because of the… never mind. I told you I needed you at the game because you’re my good luck charm, and we lost. Just forget it. I need to decompress.”
Silence falls over us, and I feel bad. So, I ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”
He releases a slow breath. “Not really. It was just a shitty game and Dad was on the warpath after. You know how he gets.”
I do know. I've seen firsthand the impossible standards his dad holds Ryan to, the scathing criticisms and constant pushing. It makes my insides itch with the urge to give the man a piece of my mind.
But I bite my tongue. Instead, I bump Ryan with my elbow and joke in a deep mocking voice, “The China Wall’s bricks are looking a little loose out there, son.”
Ryan smiles, leaning on the counter.
“What can I do for you, Ry?” I ask because he’s not looking so good right now. If I had all the opportunity to do what I wanted with him, I would wrap him in my arms, massage him, feed him some cookies, and wash his body in the shower.
God.
That thought is making my insides twirl around.
He rolls his head to me and shrugs. “You being here is enough.”
And there it is.
Sometimes throughout the years, I’ve seen glimpses of Ryan accidentally hinting that he’s into me.
And honestly, with the look on his face, I think I’m reading him correctly right now.
With his behavior lately, which has felt so clingy, to be honest, it’s like he’s going through something and needs me at his beck and call.
Am I exaggerating this? I don’t know but he’s throwing fits like a child.
He’s offering his guestroom like it's loose change. Maybe he’s having some sort of crisis.
He seemed fine before I told him about my landlord’s email. No, I know. It’s me. I’m the problem.
Right when I think I’ve gotten to the bottom of this, he scratches his face while ripping his eyes from mine.
“I told my dad I have a girlfriend.”
His dad has no idea about Hailey. He knows his dad will get on his ass about it, so I smile, happy he’s finally being honest with him. “I wish I was there to see his face.”
“Oh, you should’ve seen it. I told him it was you.”
I nearly choke on the air I’m breathing. Our eyes connect, and I’m mortified right now. Ryan did what? I clear my itchy throat, trying to understand why Ryan would do that. “What?” I ask, the shock rolling out with my tone. Why the fuck would he do that?
He nods with confidence.
“Why–why would you do that?” I’m starting to choke on my words now.
“He was on my ass, so it came out of my mouth. I’m sorry.”
I laugh in disbelief. “What about Hailey? Your real girlfriend?”
He opens his phone and throws it at me. “Read it.”