3 #4
“It means men like your father usually know exactly what they think about men like me before introductions are over.”
The words landed differently than I expected.
“Men like you?”
His jaw shifted. “Poor kid. Foster kid. Brown kid. Barrio. Tattoos. Hockey instead of family business. Pick one.”
“Ryan.”
“I’m not asking you to defend him.”
“I was going to say he doesn’t know any of that.”
“He’ll find out.”
There was no bitterness in his voice, and that made it worse.
“You think he’d care that you’re Chicano?”
“I think rich white fathers who plan their daughter’s résumé before she graduates usually have opinions about who belongs beside her.”
Anger moved through me immediately. “You don’t know that.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re judging him before he gets the chance to judge you.”
Ryan nodded once. “Probably.”
The lack of defensiveness caught me off guard.
He dragged one hand over his jaw. “I don’t give a fuck if I make Lance uncomfortable, Charm. I care if making him uncomfortable becomes another thing you have to carry.”
My anger loosened.
Ryan looked at me with something more vulnerable than I had ever seen on him.
“This already stresses you out,” he said. “You defend him before anybody attacks him. Your whole body changes when you talk about what he expects. I’m not interested in becoming another fight in your life because I couldn’t keep my dick under control.”
Despite everything, a laugh escaped me.
Ryan’s mouth twitched.
“That was almost romantic.”
“I had better wording until the end.”
“I’m sure.”
He stepped closer again, and this time, I touched his shirt first.
“So what happens now?”
Ryan looked down at my hand against his chest. “We keep doing what we’re doing.”
“Which is?”
“Books. Coffee. You insulting my apartment.”
“Kissing?”
His eyes returned to mine. “Definitely kissing.”
The answer made warmth unfurl low in my stomach.
“But no sex.”
“Not tonight.”
“Because you think I’ll grade myself tomorrow.”
“Among other reasons.”
“That is deeply annoying.”
“I know.”
“You’re very pleased with yourself.”
“I’m trying to do one decent thing here.”
“You’re assuming I wanted to have sex with you.”
Ryan’s eyebrows rose.
I held his stare for three seconds before failing.
His smile spread. “You had your hands under my shirt.”
“I was investigating.”
“My abs?”
“The construction.”
He laughed, and the sound loosened the strange ache beneath my ribs.
I put both hands against his chest. “For the record, if this becomes weird and ruins our friendship, I’m blaming you.”
“Why me?”
“You started mi hada.”
“You asked what your name meant.”
“You weaponized Spanish.”
“That’s fair.”
I smiled.
Ryan’s hand slid around my waist. “And for the record,” he said, quieter now, “I’ve wanted to kiss you longer than today.”
My smile faded. “How long?”
His dimple appeared. “Not answering that.”
“You said years.”
“I did.”
“How many?”
“Nosy.”
“Ryan.”
He leaned closer. “You want another kiss or a timeline?”
“That is manipulation.”
“It’s efficient.”
I reached for him before I could think too hard about what the answer meant.
This kiss was different. It was still hot enough to make my toes curl inside my sandals, but the urgency softened into something slower. Ryan kissed me with one hand at my waist and the other cupping my jaw, keeping me close without pushing for anything more.
That somehow felt more intimate.
I touched his face, letting the rough edge of his beard scratch lightly beneath my fingertips.
When we finally separated, Ryan rested his forehead against mine. My breathing was uneven, and so was his.
“You’re trouble,” I whispered.
“So I’ve been told.”
“I should go.”
“You should.”
Neither of us moved.
I laughed softly, and Ryan did too.
“This is going well.”
“Excellent boundaries.”
“Very healthy.”
“Practically inspirational.”
I kissed him once more, quickly this time, before sliding off the counter.
Ryan caught my waist automatically as my feet hit the floor. My body settled against his for one brief second, and the ease of it scared me more than the kissing had.
It felt like I had always fit there and only just noticed.
Ryan must have felt something too because his hands stayed at my waist while his expression shifted. The warmth in his eyes tightened beneath something wary, as though he trusted the way I fit against him even less than I did.
We looked at each other without saying it.
Whatever this was had already moved beyond harmless. That didn’t mean either of us was ready to name it.
I stepped away first and reached for the books on the coffee table.
Ryan picked up the theory guide before I could. “You’re taking this one.”
“I had already selected it.”
“And the Victorian essays.”
“I know.”
“The mythology reference.”
“I don’t need mythology.”
“You’ll like it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You’re becoming unbearable.”
“You keep coming back.”
I looked at him.
The smile left his face slowly.
Neither of us laughed this time.
“I do,” I said.
Ryan held my gaze for another second before handing me the stack.
“Good.”
The word followed me all the way to the door.