Chapter 15 #2
It comes out more tentative than I intended. Ryan’s breath is still hitched as his brow furrows. His gaze sharpening on my face. “I'm not really in the market for that right now,” he says slowly. “Why?”
I shrug, trying to remain as normal as possible even though my heart thumps erratically. “Oh, you know. I just don't want to hold you back or anything. I mean, this situation is just practice, right? And if you want to see other people, I totally understand.”
It physically pains me to say the words, but I need him to know I'm not trying to tie him down. That he's free to do whatever, whoever, he wants.
Even if the thought makes me want to jump off a cliff.
Ryan is quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Okay,” he says at last. “Thanks, I guess.”
And it’s that people-pleasing genetic that irks me. I mean I am screaming on the inside, but I’m masking it so that I don’t come across as a crazy person.
I nod, my throat tight. “Sure. Actually.” I lean over the side of the bed to fish Emma's card out of my shorts' pocket. “I was asked to give you this by a very beautiful woman at the bar. Her name is Emma, and she recognized me from your Instagram photo from your first game. Did you know that it’s like top six of your grid? Anyway, she thought we were siblings. I told her we are not, we’re friends, so she said oh he’s single then?
And I said yes because you are, and so she gave me her card to pass along. ”
I hold the card out to him, ignoring the way my hand shakes slightly. Ryan takes it, glancing at it briefly before looking back at me with a raised brow.
“Is this chick trying to network with me or get in my pants?” he asks dryly.
“The latter, I think,” I say, accidentally glancing his naked body next to mine. “I mean, I think. She did ask if you were single, so it kind of gives away what idea she has. Although it could be for both.”
Ryan shakes his head, tossing the card onto the nightstand. “Thanks, but no thanks. It's weird that she used you to try to get to me.”
Relief rushes through me, quickly followed by guilt. He took me at my word that I'm cool with him pursuing other options, but here I am hoping he won't.
Talk about sending mixed signals.
I nudge him with my elbow, needing to dispel the sudden heaviness in the air. “Don't be an idiot. She was just shooting her shot. And she's totally your type – legs for days model hotness, classy. Goes for what she wants.”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no. Models tend to be a little too high maintenance for me. I prefer my women real, not perfect.”
He looks down at me as he says it, something meaningful in his gaze. I flush, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing again. Am I reading too much into that? Gosh, this is just friendly talk, so I need to cut it out.
I clear my throat and sit up, twisting my hair into a messy knot. “Well, maybe not Emma then. But if you want to get back out there, just say the word and I'll be your wing woman. We can hit the bars together and find you a nice, 'real' girl to rock your world.”
I nod because I mean it. This practice ordeal should probably be done because this man knows exactly what he’s doing, and I need to tell him that.
“So, I–”
“I will keep–”
Our eyes meet with a hint of humorous curiosity. We never do this. Never.
Ryan watches me for a beat, an odd expression on his face. But then he nods and flops onto his back, tucking an arm behind his head.
“You first,” he says.
I cut him off, flushing. “Actually, it’s only fair that you go first this time.”
“No,” he protests. “Ladies first.”
My eyes drag to his. “I can’t go first again. I need to know what you’re trying to say. Just please, tell me.”
“Okay, then,” Ryan says. “I just want you to know that this is working for me.”
“ This ?” I question.
He nods nonchalantly. “Yeah. This.” His eyes look at my bare body. God, this is why I can’t remain naked next to him. I hate that my uterus is throbbing again under his glare.
There’s a sudden lump in my throat as I stare at him.
I say, “Well, I was going to say that I don’t think we need to continue this .”
His gaze snaps back to my eyes. “What?”
I shrug. “Yeah.” I am way in over my head. “I thought you needed some advice or experience or something, but honestly, you are not lacking in that department and–”
“I am,” he counters, now readjusting himself to get a better look at me. “I am very vanilla stuck in a vanilla world.”
I scoff and laugh at the same time. “That’s ridiculous. You’re really good in bed, Ry. I think I need more pointers than you do.”
“You don’t,” he reassures me, and it’s not making me feel any better.
I try hard not to roll my eyes. “Okay, but I’m serious–”
“So am I,” he argues. “I was about to ask you for advice, and you handed me some random woman’s business card. And you think I’m going to call her? Just like that? We just finished having sex. You couldn’t wait like ten minutes?”
I shrug. “No.”
“Well, you should’ve because it was weird, Ads.”
“No, what’s weird is that we’re doing this as best friends.” I press my lips together as my gut twists into knots.
“Christ, I don’t know what’s happening here, Ads.”
I sit up and say, “Stop saying my name after every sentence!” I hate that he’s addressing me so much right now. I throw the blanket out of my way and grab my clothes from the ground. He stands and puts on his clothes. “Baddie,” he murmurs. “Why are you so mad?”
“Because you don’t need any damn advice in bed. You’re perfect!”
Our eyes meet. At first, he’s concerned.
And then, ever so lightly, the side of his lip pulls.
My chest lightens at the sight. He smirks in the cutest way possible, and I can’t help but smile back.
Now I’m like a sick love puppy smiling back at him.
We are two idiots smiling at each other because he is so easy to flatter.
My shoulders slump as I mutter, “Sttttooooopppppppp.”
He bites his tongue and looks down. He takes a step to me and says, “Did you just call me perfect…again?”
I am trying to hold in my laugh. “Please, stop.”
His eyes meet mine, and I notice he glances look at my lips. My entire body is coming alive under his gaze. He smiles, meeting my eyes again. He shakes his head playfully. “No.”
I nod to argue with him.
He shakes his head. “Never.”
I take a step back and meet his dresser. He stalks closer to me as my heart flutters around my chest. “Please.”
He stops in front of me.
Right as he lifts a hand to touch me, I blurt, “So, this pact is done then, right?”
He drops his hand. “What?”
“Yeah, we don’t need to continue this. You seriously know what you’re doing.”
He protests, “I need more practice.”
I tilt my head to the side and question if that’s a true statement or if he’s messing with me.
He nods. “Okay. Just three more times.”
“Three?” I scoff. “No way. Zero.”
“Zero?” he scoffs now, and I’m back to smiling. “Two.”
I shake my head.
“One more time.”
“Fine,” I say, not wanting to argue anymore.
“Fine?” he laughs. “That was easy.” I nod. “I might change my mind.”
He stands taller. “One it is.”
I can’t resist that smile on his face or the way he’s looking at me.
This is supposed to be fun, remember? I can do this.
I can keep sexing up my best friend and not fall stupidly in love with him in the process.
With his perfect sex hair, his perfect abs, his perfect smile, and his perfect hot sex.
Yeah, right.
We lapse into silence, and it's not the relaxed, satisfied kind. It's loaded with everything we're not saying, the uncomfortable weight of our shifting dynamic. He wants to continue this…with me.
A part of me really wants that too, but I’m scared of what admitting that will do to us. I'm suddenly desperate to escape, to not be vulnerable in front of him anymore. I stand taller too, looking for my route out of here.
“I should go,” I say. “Another early day tomorrow.”
It's a flimsy excuse and we both know it. But Ryan doesn't call me on it, just watches me with hooded eyes.
“Okay,” he says quietly, running his hand through his hair. “Text me when you get home safe.”
“Will do.” I lean down and press a swift kiss to his cheek, avoiding his eyes.
And then I'm out the door, fleeing like the coward I am. I make it all the way to my car before I let out the shuddering breath I've been holding, my eyes stinging.
I'm so fucked. I am so very, very fucked.
What the hell am I doing? How did I ever think I could keep my heart out of this?
I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to get a grip. I just need some space, that's all. Some time to shore up my defenses and remind myself why this can only ever be physical.
I just need to get my head on straight and my heart in check. No sleepovers. No more post-sex pillow talk. Stick to the good old-fashioned booty calls and then get the hell out of dodge before I can start craving more.
Just one more time.
Easy peasy.
I snort to myself as I turn the key in the ignition. Yeah, right. Since when has anything involving Ryan Wilder ever been easy for me?
But I'm going to try. I'm going to protect him and our friendship the only way I know how.
Shit, this is going to destroy me.