16. Everly
16
Everly
I stare at Ryder in shock, wondering how long I can hold out. It’s late and my body has a mind of its own lately. He must have registered my dismay, because he does that sexy crooning voice again and everything in me wants to curl up in his arms.
“No, don’t worry about anything. Everything’s going to be fine. I’m calling the night guard right now, and we’re just going to camp out here for a few minutes until he can swing by and let us out without triggering all the alarms. It’s no biggie, you feel me?”
I snort a small laugh and decide that if we’re going to spend any more time together tonight, I should probably dig out a few mints. I gingerly lower myself to the floor and heave a sigh of relief at not having to stand in heels anymore. Popping a mint into my mouth, I go ahead and kick off the shoes and pull out my phone. What a week this has been! I woke up today feeling good as new and so sure that this stomach bug had passed, but here I am again barfing up my insides, and in front of Ryder of all people. It’s like my stomach is still angry at him for turning me down after all the lengths he went to just to get me back. Feckless man.
I go to unlock my phone, but what little battery it had left was apparently used up on my recent text to Aunt Sharon. It’s officially dead now. I check every pocket in my purse and computer bag, but I must have left all my charging cords at home because I can’t find any now.
I hardly register Ryder’s conversation on the phone until he ends the call and I hear him muttering to himself.
“What’d they say?””That was Jerry. He says it’s the other night guard, Felix, who’s on duty tonight. They need about thirty minutes to get over here and will have to call in for a code to disarm the entrance. It’s a bit of a production, it seems.”
I watch as Ryder rubs at his brow in a subconscious gesture. He sighs, checks his phone again, and then seems to resign himself to our fate.
I gesture to the floor beside me, “Sit down.” He stares for a minute, as if trying to gauge my intentions, but I just give a tired sigh. “It’s fine, Ryder. We’re friends.” His brow furrows at the word ‘friends,’ but he settles into place beside me, and I feel fatigue washing over me again.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I got locked in the chemistry classroom?” he asks. I chuckle and tell him no before he launches into his story, but I’m so sleepy that my mind drifts.
I come to in his arms, suddenly aware I must have fallen asleep. Somehow, he’s managed to scoop me up and stand, because the door is opening. I stiffen when I realize what’s happening.
“Ryder, I’m awake. You can put me down now.” But my voice is cracking and the level of fatigue I’m experiencing is beyond normal. I would give my whole paycheck to go back to sleep. So, when he tells me he’s got me and I see my bag slung across his shoulder and my shoes poking out of his duffle bag, I give up and let sleep take me under again.
When I do wake it’s to glimmers of sunlight filtering under the bottom edge of a window shade. Glancing around the room, I don’t recognize anything. It’s not a huge room, but the raised ceiling makes it feel spacious. I’m in a king-size bed, and it smells like some kind of cologne or sandalwood soap. Ryder, it smells like Ryder. Silky smooth linen sheets are covered with a charcoal grey comforter, and the opposite wall is covered in wood panelling.
I’m still groggy, but I sit straight up searching the room for anything that might be familiar. My eyes land on my phone on the nightstand. It’s plugged into a charger, and I swipe it up hastily to check the time, the date, and any messages. The top message is from Ryder, left just thirty minutes ago.
RYDER: Hey Curves, how you feeling this morning?
I hope you don’t mind but I brought you to my place, and I texted your aunt to let her know you were crashing over here.
I’ve got practice this morning. Make yourself at home.
Protein smoothie is in the fridge.
I take another look around the room. We did the photo shoot here in his apartment a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t recognize the room without all the people and equipment. Peering to my right, I see the entry area to the enormous bathroom we’d spent hours in working on the right shot. Suddenly my shoulders slump and I let myself drop back onto a pile of pillows as I realize that it’s the second night I’ve spent with him, and the second time I wake up alone.
Just like yesterday, I realize I’ve woken up feeling good as new, and I cross my fingers hoping this time it’s real. I stretch and stare at the ceiling as I wonder. What if we’d started dating for real? Waking up in this bed probably would have been my new normal. I roll over and breathe in the scent, storing it in my memories, while old ones of our night in the hotel resurface. Ryder made me feel powerful and free and beautiful. He’s the one who is shaped like a god, and being the one to illicit so many beautiful emotions in him was a high I’d never known before. A smile curves my lips when I remember the reverence in his touch, the smug satisfaction when he pleasured me, the carefree boyish laughter, and the stormy passion that emerged when I pressed down on him, taking him to the hilt.
I clench my legs and moan at the thought. It’s time to get up! Because Ryder’s not mine…not anymore...
When I finally make it into the main office for the Mavs documentary project, I hustle to my desk and pull out my laptop only to see Ed approaching from the direction of the common room.
“Everly, I need you to come to my office.” His voice is unusually stern, lacking the warmth I’m accustomed to. A small shiver runs down my spine, a sense of foreboding settling in. Once inside, he jumps right in.
“Do you recall the clause in your contract stating that anyone in a relationship with a Mavs team member will be considered to have a conflict of interest and barred from the project?”
I stare of him while my mind freezes. I didn’t remember that, and technically I’ve had something ill-defined going on with Ryder, but…
“Um, I… I’m not in a relationship with a Mav.” I stare, still somewhat fuzzy-brained and suddenly feeling nauseous again. Ed stares right back, levelling me with a squinty gaze before he turns to his computer screen and with a tap pulls up photos. Photos of my lunch with Ryder, taken by bystanders weeks ago are staring back at me. Genuine moments of joy and friendship are now twisted into evidence against me.
The reality crashes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me stunned. “Those photos... they’re from weeks ago,” my voice is faltering, a mix of confusion and desperation in my plea. “I’m…we’re not together.”
Ed’s eyes soften a bit, but he just tilts his head and holds my gaze.
“Everly, I’m not a man who jumps to conclusions. I took time to find out more. I understand from members of the team that you and Ryder have been together. Whatever that relationship was and whether or not it continues today is not my concern. Your contract is forfeit. I’m sorry, Everly, but we have to let you go.”
I’m not sure how I respond to this, or even how I make my way out of the building. I’ve never been let go from a project before, and standing here in the building I feel like some kind of interloper trying to get into a club of people who want nothing to do with me. This is a whole new low for me. It’s utterly humiliating. Somehow, I make my way back to my desk where I grab my personal things and head to the door.
When I reach my car I’m ready to collapse, but I can’t stand the thought that someone I know could walk by, so I drive down the road not caring where I end up. Finally, I pull into a parking spot at a gas station where I lock my car doors and proceed to bawl out my eyes for the next half an hour.
This job was more than work. It was stability. It was opportunity, a building block for a fresh professional start in Texas when all my previous work experience had been in California where I’d graduated from college. And most of all this job was the one thing keeping Aunt Sharon from losing her house. I can’t believe the unfairness of it. I’m not even in a relationship with this awful beautiful man, this friend and family and lover all rolled into one. What happened with Ryder really amounted to a one-night stand, all things considered. Now here I am still pining for the love that didn’t come through, and only one check away from being homeless.
I heave a dejected sigh and allow myself another ten minutes of self-pity before I check my face in the mirror and decide to go home and take a nice long nap before I break the news to Aunt Sharon and to Rachel. There’s no rush, and I’m so exhausted.
Four weeks later, I stand on my front porch evaluating the boxes before me and the truck in the driveway. Inside, I can hear Aunt Sharon bustling about. The impending eviction has forced us out of our home, a stark reminder of my employment difficulties and the disaster that is my love life.
It’s been four gruelling weeks of rethinking everything, realizing life is taking a course outside of my power to change, and trying to find a way to make my peace. Aunt Sharon has been the steady one in the midst of this change, always optimistic and ready to go. But I still watch her with hawk eyes, and we take frequent breaks in our work to transition. She may be cancer-free, but it’s taken its toll and we’ve both felt an unprecedented amount of fatigue these last weeks.
Luckily a friend of hers is ready to rent out a double wide mobile home to us for an unusually low rate, because the housing prices have skyrocketed since Covid, and I have no idea where we would land if it weren’t for a few good connections helping us out. For my part, I’ve snagged a few jobs and projects that should start paying off soon enough, but I’ve yet to find the long-term opportunities that will help us get back on our feet. It’s early January, so I step into the house to add a scarf to my attire before returning to box counting on the porch.
I’ve just about decided everything should fit, and I pop my head into the house to call out to Aunt Sharon.
“Let me know when you’re ready to start on the big furniture items!” I head back out to the truck and grab the dolly and the flat rolling slab we rented to get the furniture moved. I lug them both up onto the porch and pop back into the hallway to move aside the small furniture items that would block our route. A few seconds later I hear a knock at the open door and turn expecting to see Rachel, but it isn’t her.
It’s my childhood friend, the man I inadvertently molested, who then proceeded to torment me for weeks of photoshoots, my one-night stand who changed my world only to ghost me the next day, the one who wormed his way back into my good graces only to turn me down, the one who took care of me when I was sick and alone, and the one who ultimately played a role in getting me fired.
“Ryder.”