23. Alice
Alice
Escaping from the picnic is harder than I thought it would be. Ryder is right when he says he worries about the handbook. I didn’t notice the eyes on us last night, but I sure do today. Everywhere I look, people are watching us. Or at least it feels that way since we’ve broken the rules.
It also doesn’t help that everything marketing has us doing looks very coupley.
They told me to wear white, while he’s in a white Tarpons golf polo and navy shorts.
We sit at a table and eat pie together.
We stand with Bryan and Lexi and Jonah and Sophie, and pretend that we’re all laughing and having a great conversation. When, in reality, the four of them talked, and we stood there feeling awkward.
There’s even a cheesy shot of him behind me acting like he’s trying to take the football from me. Well, there is no acting. He went full-on for it. It’s like he can’t help himself given his day job, and we both end up on the ground.
It’s then that I notice Kelli and Sully, Ryder’s captain, are paying extra attention and watching us.
It’s like the spotlight that is the sun is shining right down on the two of us, saying, “Look at them. They’ve clearly moved on from just professional.
” And the problem is, now I don’t know how to act around him.
Am I giving myself away? Can they see that I’m drawn to him, infatuated with him, and overall giddy that things might be changing between us?
I go back to my therapist’s quote, “Anger is an emotion we inflict upon ourselves based on someone else’s actions.
” His actions have been pretty good lately, and that anger has dulled.
In the beginning, we fought all the time, and now we don’t.
It’s really crazy how there is such a direct action/reaction to emotions.
Should I still be angry with him after what happened?
Probably yes. But am I? Well, today I’m not.
What I went through and how I felt back then feels very distant from how I feel today.
And if I’m being honest, I’m glad. Living with that negative thread woven through my soul wasn’t healthy, and it’s been holding me back.
Holding me back from trusting guys, from letting my heart open not just to new relationships but also to new possibilities, and, well, to feel like the best version of myself.
I pull on Ryder’s arm. He bends down to hear me, as I quietly tell him, “I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” He looks me over from head to toe to see if something is wrong.
“You were right. People are watching us.”
His eyes sharpen just before he looks up and scans the people closest to us. I’m certain he sees what I see. “It actually makes me mad. We’re only doing what they’ve asked of us.”
“Do you think we look too chummy? Should we somehow make ourselves look more professional? Should I yell at you for old times’ sake?”
He scoffs. “Got me, but I do think we’ve been here long enough.” He takes a breath and then looks sincerely at me, almost to the point where he is worried about how I might answer. “Can I drive you home?”
I roll my lips between my teeth to keep them from stretching from ear to ear. He’s not worried. He’s nervous, and I love it. I love that I make him nervous. That he still feels enough for me, that it’s not only anger but also something else.
“Yes.”
One by one, we sneak out of the event. He leaves first to make sure the truck is unlocked and cool by the time I get there.
This is the first time since we reconnected that I feel like we’re picking up our friendship where we left off.
Instead of feeling trepidation sitting in this familiar seat, I feel tranquil joy.
I feel content and free from all the things that weighed me down before.
“Can you believe this is our last event? I thought this day would never come.”
I glance over at him, and his eyebrows pull down.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that I’m glad we’re no longer beholden to them.
While I have enjoyed the extra money and the exposure for the Mighty Monarchs, I feel relieved that the commitment to the organization is over.
I was constantly worried that I was going to do something to mess it up and make them not pleased with me. Do something wrong.”
He pulls out of the stadium parking lot and heads south.
“Right. It also occurred to me earlier that this was the last one.” His hand grips the wheel as he leans over to turn on some music.
I’m stuck on his hands. Were they always that large?
And then I let my mind drift to what that might mean: big hands and big feet.
I jerk my head and look out the front of the window before I find myself looking at other places.
“Aren’t you happy? You got nothing out of this, and now you can focus on football.”
“I wouldn’t say I got nothing,” he says slowly, looking over at me. I can feel his eyes sliding over me. “Some unexpected things came out of it.”
Am I the unexpected thing?
Suddenly, I don’t feel joy. I feel all the things.
That smile I had been trying to hide, I don’t even bother.
It breaks free. I look at him, he looks at me, and now we’re both smiling at each other.
To top it off, Ryder settles more into his seat and then reaches over and laces his fingers with mine.
He’s holding my hand.
Something so simple shouldn’t make me swoon the way it does, but he’s touching me.
Because he wants to.
The rest of the ride home we sit in content silence. I try to come up with a reason for us to spend the rest of the day together, but stupidly I can’t think of anything.
I mean, how would that go? Hey, want to watch a movie? Want to go out and get something to eat even though we just ate? Do you like bowling? All so dumb that I’m lost in my head when he pulls into the complex and parks us under a tree to be in the shade.
“What are you doing next weekend?” he asks, shifting in his seat to face me. He lets go of my hand, and his arm stretches out behind me. His hand props on the headrest.
I shift too, now we’re both looking at each other. “Next weekend?”
I smooth down my skirt to give my hands something to do when I feel his fingers gently wrap around and run down my ponytail.
“Well, yeah. Our next game is the following Monday night. The weekend is kind of open.”
Is he asking me out on a date?
It sounds like he is.
Other than asking to drive me, this is the first time in what feels like forever that he’s attempting to willingly plan something with me.
My heart feels like it has wings.
“Our Mighty Monarch game is that Monday night game. Other than sending a few emails to go over logistics, I have no plans.” And it’s here I tamp down my nerves and get bold. “That is, unless you’re telling me I now do.”
His fingers repeat the movement, and I think my core temperature goes up two degrees.
“You do. Come over and let me cook you dinner.”
His cheeks turn strawberry, and my stomach clenches.
He wants me to come to his house? I think I had resigned myself to never getting that invitation. I mean, up until recently, I didn’t want one. But now it’s here, and I have to fight off emotions that I don’t want him to see.
“You cook?”
He shrugs one shoulder, as one corner of his mouth tips up. “A little.”
The boy I once knew made basic things like spaghetti and grilled cheese. Has he learned some new tricks? Has he become a bit of a foodie?
Regardless, count me in.
“Okay,” I tell him. Be bold, Alice. “It’s a date.”
Relief loosens the muscles in his face, but his eyes are now locked on my lips.
His hand moves to the back of my neck. It’s large, warm, and his thumb starts swiping along my skin.
We’re leaning closer to each other.
My heart rate picks up, and I know there’s a change in my breathing. Does he see the change? Is he thinking about kissing me like I’m thinking about kissing him? He has to be, right?
Ten seconds pass. Eleven. And then Ryder’s mouth collides with mine.
The gasp that had been halfway through my lips is swallowed, along with any unsureness I’d felt just a moment ago.
I slip my fingers into his hair, realizing this is one of the first times I’ve ever truly felt his thick, soft hair, and I tug.
The need to have him closer, the need to hold on to him harder, the pulse beats through me.
Ryder groans. He allows me to tilt his head to the right, where I want him to deepen the kiss.
Over and over, our tongues reacquaint themselves with each other after last night, and his hands slide and move over my body like he doesn’t know where to touch me next.
Eventually, he takes over, easily picks me up, and drags me to straddle his lap.
Have I kissed boys? Yes. Have I made out with them in a way that leaves me breathless and quivering for more? No. Then again, Ryder isn’t a boy. He’s all man, and there is no mistaking how I’m making him feel. He is hard underneath me, and I’m sitting just so that I can feel the full length of him.
The one part of him that I’ve never known.
I might die.
“Is this okay?” he asks, pulling back a fraction to take in my reaction. Across his cheekbones is the telltale red flush, his lips look slightly puffy and wet, and my heart thumps hard in my chest at how close he is to me. It’s like Ryder’s magnified, and it’s the most incredible view.
“More than okay,” I whisper, and he groans as he leans back in to kiss me again and speak into my skin.
“Since last night, I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you.
Those three minutes in the photo booth were torture.
I feel like a starved man, and I can’t get enough of you.
I don’t even know what it is. We’re sitting here together, my hands are all over you, and all I can think is more, more, more. ”
His mouth drags across my cheek to my neck, and my head voluntarily tilts back.
He sucks and bites along the line of my jaw, down my chest, and stops at the edge of my dress.
My chest is frantically moving up and down as I can’t seem to get enough air, and then he leans down and runs his mouth directly across the fleshy top of my breast. A low sound escapes me as I lean back against the steering wheel, effectively rotating my hips across his.
He’s not wrong. My body is also screaming more, more, more.
His hands slide up my thighs, under the skirt of my dress to my ass, and before he sucks on my skin, he says, “Do it again.”
I roll my hips, his hands now guiding me, and I move back and forth over him. I have never ever felt anything like this, and it feels incredible.
“Oh God, Ryder.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
But he doesn’t. While I don’t know his dating history, I know mine, and there isn’t any.
None.
I have never come close to being this intimate with someone.
This kiss, it’s not like last night. Last night was sweet, romantic, the perfect first kiss.
This one is fueled with years of longing, years of desire, and what feels like a little bit of anger.
Ryder is kissing me like he’s trying to rewrite history, and we’re both swept away with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
I’ve melted into him, and it isn’t last night’s kiss.
It’s this kiss that has ruined me for all other kisses to come. It’s eclipsed even my wildest dreams.
I have no idea how long we make out in his truck.
Time is lost, or maybe stopped. Who knows.
I also have no idea how long we completely forget ourselves, while in broad daylight, but when his hands travel up my rib cage, and his thumbs brush across the bottom of my breasts, I know it’s time for us to move inside.
Pushing a little on his shoulders, I get his attention as he lifts his head. His hair is all messed up, and his eyes instantly lock with mine. They’re insanely dark and it’s intoxicating to have him look at me this way. To know that I made him this needy, this—for lack of a better term—love drunk.
“Do you want to come inside?” I run my hand over his cheek, my thumb across his lips, and then rest it on his shoulder. I’m overflowing with happiness, with want, with the excitement that there’s going to be more, more, more with him when I catch his expression fall.
He studies me. His eyes track over the features on my face. The color already in his cheeks deepens to a dark red. His hands, which were holding on tight, suddenly loosen.
And then he looks away.
“Alice, I . . . I can’t.”