7 #6
I almost asked why he kept stopping. I almost told him that every time he pulled away, my mind spent hours deciding which part of me had made him change his mind. I almost admitted I wanted him so badly that I had started measuring myself against women he wasn’t even looking at.
None of it made it past my throat.
Ryan reached for the door, then stopped and looked back at me.
“Come here.”
I went without thinking.
His arms closed around me without hesitation or frustration. He pulled me against his chest and tucked his chin over my hair while my hands gripped the back of his shirt.
The tenderness almost hurt worse than rejection would have.
Ryan kissed the top of my head. “Tonight mattered to me.”
My eyes burned. “It mattered to me too.”
“Good.”
His hand moved slowly over my back.
“I’m going to Flint tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“And I’m coming back.”
“I know that too.”
He leaned away enough to see my face. “You remember what I told you?”
I swallowed. “If something changes, you tell me.”
“And what else?”
“You don’t disappear.”
“Yeah.”
His thumb brushed beneath my eye even though I hadn’t cried.
“Nothing changed about wanting you tonight,” he said. “But I noticed you were afraid of people seeing us, and I’m not going to pretend I didn’t.”
I stared at him.
Ryan’s expression was serious, and the guardedness beneath it made my chest ache.
“I’m not asking you to solve it before I leave tomorrow. I’m asking you to think about why being alone with me feels safe and being seen with me doesn’t.”
The words struck the exact fear I had been trying to hide.
“I will.”
“Good.”
He kissed my forehead, then my cheek, before finally touching his mouth to mine softly enough that my heart ached.
“Buenas noches, mi hada.”
“Good night.”
He smiled faintly. “Your pronunciation was terrible.”
A laugh slipped through the pressure in my chest. “I spoke English.”
“Still needs work.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“That mouth sounds more like you.”
I rolled my eyes, and Ryan kissed me once more before opening the door.
He stepped into the hallway and turned. “Text me when you get into bed.”
“You’re leaving from my apartment.”
“I know where I’m leaving from.”
“You’ll be home before I’m in bed.”
“Probably.”
“Then why do I have to text?”
“Because I like knowing you’re where you’re supposed to be.”
My chest squeezed. “You’re bossy.”
“Get used to it.”
I leaned against the doorframe with Ryan’s hoodie hanging too large around me and watched him walk backward several steps before turning toward the stairs.
“I already did,” I called after him.
Something in his expression softened as he looked back one last time, his gaze dropping briefly to my mouth before he smiled and disappeared around the corner.
I stayed there until the sound of his footsteps faded. After closing the door, I rested my forehead against it while the apartment settled into a quiet that felt completely different now that he was gone.
Walter took up half the couch where Ryan left him, ridiculous and enormous beneath the lamplight. The sight should’ve made me laugh again. Instead, my fingers curled into the sleeves of Ryan’s hoodie as everything from the night came rushing back at once.
His hand found mine before we reached the fair.
He changed the playlist because I liked songs he hated.
He paid attention to every stupid thing I looked at and appeared prouder of winning Walter than any adult man should have been.
He kissed me in the middle of crowds without checking who might be watching and never hesitated until he realized I did.
Ryan had spent hours making it impossible for me to misunderstand what I meant to him.
He opened doors because he liked taking care of me, paid because he wanted to take me out, held my hand whenever he could, and pulled me closer when other people looked.
Every time my anxiety gave him another reason I might not matter, he answered it without making me feel ridiculous for asking.
By the end of the night, I should’ve been able to stand inside all that and believe him.
Instead, my mind returned to the parking lot and the moment his body pressed against mine while everything between us started sliding toward the place I had wanted him to take me for weeks.
He had been hard against me, his breath rough and hands tight enough around my waist that there was no mistaking how much he wanted what was happening.
Then headlights passed behind us, and I stiffened like being caught in his arms was something dangerous.
Ryan didn’t stop because he had changed his mind about my body. He stopped because he felt me change mine the second someone might see us.
That should’ve made the night easier to understand.
It didn’t.
I walked toward the bedroom and deliberately kept my eyes away from the mirror. Ryan had given me an entire night of proof, and I had given him the first reason to wonder whether I would choose him as easily when other people were watching.
The worst part was that his question already had an answer.
Being alone with Ryan felt safe because I only had to trust him.
Being seen with him meant I would eventually have to trust myself enough to stand beside him when everyone else told me why I shouldn’t.