14 #3
There was only Ryan barefoot in his kitchen, country music playing again because I refused to let him turn it off, and the strange happiness of discovering some ridiculous new piece of him after believing there couldn’t possibly be anything left.
Eventually, he looked at the clock. “Shit.”
“Time caught you.”
“Don’t start.”
“You were dancing.”
“You asked.”
“I absolutely didn’t.”
“You called me mi amor. That legally qualifies as a request.”
I smiled into my coffee. “I like it.”
“What?”
“Calling you that.”
Ryan’s expression softened. “Then keep doing it.”
The answer followed me back toward the bedroom. I dressed while he finished packing, and by the time I pulled my sweater over my head, my phone had vibrated three more times.
Aura wanted to know if I was alive. Bliss sent an aggressively inappropriate string of emojis.
The last message was from my mother.
Mother: Please wear the navy dress if it still fits properly.
My stomach tightened.
If it still fits properly.
Those five words were enough to strip away the fragile calm I had found in Ryan’s kitchen.
I looked toward the bathroom. Ryan was brushing his teeth, and the shower ran hard enough to cover the sounds of me opening my purse.
Pressure moved through me almost immediately. Klein’s paper. Wednesday. The dress. My father. My mother looking at my body across a restaurant table. Ryan leaving. The confidence I had built last night suddenly felt too thin to survive beneath all of it.
The small measuring tape was buried inside my cosmetic case beneath tissues and lipstick. I found it before I could convince myself to leave it alone and carried the case into the kitchen.
I knew the dress fit. I had worn it less than a month ago. Knowing should have been enough, but my mother’s message had already planted the certainty that something had changed and everyone would see it the moment I walked into dinner.
My fingers shook slightly as I wrapped the tape around my waist.
The number was almost exactly what it had been the last time I checked, but almost became its own accusation. I adjusted the tape and pulled it tighter. The number changed, and a thin stream of relief moved through me.
I checked again.
Then I measured my hips, my thigh, and my waist for a third time, committing every number to memory while deciding what I could remove from breakfast and lunch before Wednesday.
Last night, Ryan had given me pieces of himself no one else had ever been trusted with and told me I was getting all of him. I had looked him in the eye and promised that nothing he showed me could make me turn away.
Now I was standing in his kitchen hiding the worst parts of my own mind while he brushed his teeth down the hall.
The realization sat ugly in my chest, but I still rolled the tape tightly and buried it beneath the tissues and lipstick. I checked the counter twice before returning the cosmetic case to my purse.
Nothing remained for Ryan to notice.
The ritual hadn’t made me feel better. It had made me feel steadier by giving my fear numbers and rules, and for the moment, my mind accepted that false sense of control as enough.
Ryan walked out dressed in black travel pants and a fitted Frost shirt, his backward cap restored to the exact angle I had already fixed twice that morning. His eyes went directly to me.
“You okay?”
My heart stumbled. “I’m fine.”
He studied me for a beat, and I hated how easily the lie left my mouth. Then his attention shifted toward the avocado sitting on the counter.
“You making breakfast?”
“I was considering it.”
“Considering?”
“You distracted me with your secret country career.”
“Excuses.”
He came toward me and slid both hands around my waist. The contact landed directly over the skin I had measured, and I fought the urge to pull away.
“You have forty minutes,” I reminded him.
“Thirty-seven.”
“You’re going to miss the bus.”
“They know where I live.”
“That doesn’t reassure me.”
Ryan kissed me. I let myself disappear into the warmth of his mouth and the security of his hands for several seconds, allowing him to quiet the noise I hadn’t managed to control on my own.
When he pulled back, I pointed toward the table. “Sit down. I’m making breakfast.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You bossing me around?”
“Yes.”
“That’s hot.”
“Sit.”
He did.
I made toast, sliced the avocados, and added lime, salt, and red pepper flakes while Ryan watched with the suspicion of a man convinced I might garnish his breakfast against his will.
“No edible flowers,” he warned.
“I didn’t bring any.”
“You thought about it.”
“You own exactly zero edible flowers, Ryan.”
“Because I have self-respect.”
“Your kitchen contains three completely unrelated mugs and one skillet.”
“It contains food.”
“Barely.”
He pointed toward the avocado. “What’s that?”
“Produce.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re exhausting.”
“You like me.”
I put the plate in front of him and poured another cup of coffee for myself, ignoring the toast I had made for me.
Ryan inspected his breakfast. “There are no flowers.”
“I told you.”
“I was checking.”
“Uncultured.”
He took a bite and chewed while I waited.
“Well?”
“It’s good.”
“That sounded physically painful.”
“It’s avocado on bread.”
“You own the avocado.”
“Avocados belong in tacos.”
“They’re allowed multiple career paths.”
Ryan laughed and took another bite. His attention moved briefly to the untouched toast beside me, but my phone lit up on the table before he could say anything.
I didn’t touch it.
His eyes shifted toward the screen. “Wednesday?”
“Probably.”
“You want to look?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I stared at him.
Ryan shrugged. “Ten minutes without your mother isn’t going to destroy civilization.”
“I’m starting to think you enjoy insulting my family.”
“I haven’t even started.”
“You promised to behave.”
“I promised to answer the phone when they make you want to commit crimes. Different agreement.”
A smile tugged at my mouth as Ryan reached beneath the table and hooked his foot behind my ankle.
“You’re going to Klein today?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re coming here after?”
“I have design studio.”
“After that.”
“Aura will probably want proof I survived the night.”
“Send her a picture.”
“Of what?”
Ryan leaned back in the chair. “My bed.”
I nearly choked on my coffee, and his dimple appeared.
“You’re horrible.”
“I’m efficient.”
“You enjoy provoking her.”
“She enjoys yelling at me.”
“That is the foundation of your relationship.”
“Exactly.”
He finished breakfast, carried both plates to the sink, and checked the clock. The shift in him was subtle, but I recognized hockey Ryan returning as the schedule, bus, team, and game reclaimed his focus.
This time, it didn’t feel like he was walking away from me. He had spent the entire morning making sure I understood that.
I gathered my purse and folded my Minky blanket before carrying both into the living room. My car was parked downstairs where I had left it last night, which meant there would be no argument about him driving me home or me needing to leave with him. We were simply going in different directions.
Ryan returned from the bedroom with his suit bag over one shoulder. He stopped beside the small bowl near the door and reached inside. When he turned, a silver key rested in his palm.
I stared at it.
Ryan held it toward me. “This is yours.”
“You actually have an extra?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“So you can unlock the door.”
“I understand how keys function.”
His mouth twitched. “Take it.”
I couldn’t.
The key suddenly seemed much heavier than something that small had any right to be.
“Ryan.”
“What?”
“We became boyfriend and girlfriend last night, and now you’re giving me a key.”
“Yeah. My girlfriend has a key.”
“That is wildly intense.”
“I’m not asking you to move in.”
“Your face kind of is.”
“My face is telling you to take the damn key.”
I looked at it again. Yesterday, I might have seen only access. After last night, I saw a kid holding a trash bag, temporary houses, locked doors, and stairwells. I saw a man who had built one place nobody could tell him he no longer belonged in.
He was handing part of that security to me.
Ryan stepped closer and closed my fingers around the key. “Come here when you need quiet.”
My throat tightened.
“Study here and use all the books. Sleep here if Aura and Easton are being unbearable to each other, because I’m sure they will be. Whatever the hell is happening between them won’t fix itself during the next six days, and you and Bliss can’t fix it for them.”
“They’re always unbearable.”
“Then you’ll get plenty of use out of the key.”
I smiled.
“If Klein pisses you off, come here. If Wednesday gets inside your head before dinner, come here.” His hand remained around mine. “If you miss me, come here.”
I looked down at our joined hands.
“Drink your wine out of the Great Lakes mug, steal my hoodies, and take whatever book you need back to the ABC apartment.”
“You’re giving me everything in your apartment.”
“I’m giving you access to everything in my apartment.”
“While you’re gone.”
“Especially while I’m gone.”
My eyes burned, and Ryan immediately caught my chin.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re about to.”
“I’m appreciating the key.”
“You’re about to cry on it.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Your eyes disagree.”
I laughed softly and blinked until the feeling settled. “You barely let people touch those books.”
“You’re not people.”
The words landed differently the second time.
“You know this is a really big deal to me, right?”
Ryan’s expression softened. “I know.”
“I mean because of what you told me—”
His thumb moved across my chin. “I know why.”
I stopped. He didn’t need me to turn his history into something tragic every time he gave me a piece of himself.
Instead, I lifted the key. “I’m going to use it.”
“Good.”
“For Klein.”
“Good.”
“For Aura and Easton emergencies when I can’t handle her hate spews and need Bliss to take my place.”
“Especially those, because you can’t fix that, mi hada. Only they can.”
“And if I miss you.”
His eyes darkened slightly. “Yeah. Especially then.”