Chapter Two
Lana
My heart flutters wildly as Ryan sits across from me.
I’d already prepared myself to see Ryan, the hockey player, and not Ryan, the gangly teenager. I’ve seen pictures and watched his games, but none of that prepared me for seeing him in person.
Eighteen-year-old Ryan was always a little broody, with medium-brown hair and a lean build.
Now, his hair is faded on the sides and left artfully messy on top, and his once-lean frame has filled out with broad shoulders and a broad chest. A sharp, clean-shaven jaw completes the transformation.
The only thing unchanged is the unmistakable sparkle in his hazel eyes and the familiar sleepy smile that spreads across his face when he sees me.
“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up. My PR team called a last-minute meeting.” Ryan’s voice has a roughness to it that draws goosebumps across my skin.
I rub my arms to hide them, and look up at him through my lashes, suddenly self-conscious of my messy bun, oversized T-shirt, and bike shorts. It’s what I’d worn to the airport and I was too hungry to shower and change before Ryan got home.
“It’s alright. I’d already anticipated calling for a ride,” I say, trying to focus on opening the container of chow mein in front of me.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. I’m not sure what to say after ten years apart, but somehow, the quiet feels comfortable.
The Chinese food brings back memories of sharing fortune cookies with Ryan when he stayed over.
We’d break them in half, read each other’s fortunes, then trade halves because I’d once told him they wouldn’t come true unless we shared. He always played along.
Tucker thought it was dumb, saying fortunes don’t work like that, but Ryan would always ask him if he’d ever had a fortune come true by eating his own cookie.
He didn’t believe in it until the third time Ryan and I did the ritual.
Eventually, Tucker agreed to try the ritual with us.
Tucker’s fortune had said, “Something wonderful is about to happen to you,” and the next day, he got the news that he’d been recruited as his college hockey team’s goalie.
Ryan lets out a contented hum, pulling me from the memory. “This is perfect. Thank you for ordering food.”
I blush. “I’m glad. After I ordered, I started wondering if this was even something you’d eat anymore, with you being a professional hockey player and all.”
He smirks and my stomach swoops.
Stop it. He’s ten years older than you, and Tucker’s best friend. I remind myself. This is just a temporary living situation while I figure out how to pay for school.
We fall into comfortable silence again, and I let my eyes drift around the apartment, taking in the expansive layout. It’s far more luxurious than I’d anticipated.
When I told Anna about living with Ryan, she’d implanted the expectation in my head that single guys are messy and disgusting, but his apartment is just as neat and put-together as he is.
The kitchen, to my right, is wide open, and has a huge window that overlooks the city, letting in the golden rays of the Texas sunset.
To my left, the living room has a massive couch draped in plush blankets facing a gigantic flatscreen TV.
A heavy wooden coffee table that matches the breakfast table sits in the center, carelessly strewn with a mix of gaming and hockey magazines.
Across the living room is a short hallway that leads to the spacious guest bathroom and two bedrooms—one being the guest room, where my bags currently wait to be unpacked, and the other Ryan’s, the door shut tight.
Part of me wanted to snoop when I got here. I’ve always struggled to resist a closed door, but I also didn’t want to invade Ryan’s privacy more than I already have.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, drawing my attention back to his incredibly handsome face. The air feels like static against my skin. “I’m usually lousy company after a day like today. It was ridiculously long.”
I shake my head. “Don’t apologize. I’ve been traveling all day. Honestly, the quiet is nice after dealing with two major airports.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. I am not looking forward to dealing with airports again soon.” He chuckles, and my skin heats. His laugh is deeper than it was the last time I saw him, and now it also does something to me that I can’t quite explain.
“Tucker said you’d be traveling a lot,” I say, pushing my food around in the container, trying to decide if I’m still hungry or if my stomach is too full of butterflies.
“He’s not wrong. Most of the season, we’re away at other arenas.” Ryan stretches, and my breath catches as his shirt lifts, exposing a sliver of skin. When I drag my gaze back to his face, I find him watching me.
I quickly look away, heat rushing to my cheeks.
“Are you finished?” I ask too quickly, jumping up to gather the empty takeout containers.
I reach for Ryan’s at the same time he does and his fingers brush the back of my hand. The rough callouses send a shock up my arm. I pull my arm back and nearly trip over my chair.
Before I can react, Ryan’s on his feet, one arm wrapping around my waist as his other hand steadies the chair.
We freeze. My eyes are wide as he looks down at me.
“Careful,” he whispers, making my heart skip.
I try to speak, but words fail me. I gingerly reach up to grab his arm, feeling his muscles flex beneath my fingers. The touch seems to trigger something in him since he quickly straightens, making sure I’m stable before stepping back.
“I’m sorry.” We mutter at the same time. A second of silence passes before we both laugh nervously.
“I’ve got this,” Ryan says roughly. He avoids making eye contact while gathering the boxes. “Thanks again for getting food, Lana. It made my night that you remembered my order.”
“Not a problem. I figured you might be hungry.” I clasp my hands in front of me, not sure what to do with myself now that we aren’t eating.
“Go unwind from your flight,” he says. He starts to turn away, then pauses, his gaze dropping to my parted lips.
“Oh, yeah…good idea,” I whisper, practically fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.
I nearly slam the door shut and lock it, planting my forehead against the cool wood to try and slow my racing heart.
Taking a deep breath, I turn around. I hadn’t really looked at the bathroom earlier, but it’s immaculate, lined with dark slate tile and dominated by a two-person walk-in shower.
I slide open the glass door and turn on the water. The pressure is strong and steady, and the water heats quickly.
I strip off my clothes and step in, inhaling deep as steam fills the space. The hot water relaxes my shoulders and helps ease my anxiety. I glance around and realize I forgot to grab the toiletries from my suitcase in my panic.
“Dang it,” I murmur, reaching for the bottle of shampoo that’s already there.
The moment it starts to lather I’m surrounded by a sharp, clean scent of cedarwood, dark amber, and something else.
His scent.
I allow myself a moment to get lost in the scent. Closing my eyes while massaging my scalp, I lean back into the hot spray, letting the soap glide down my body.
My mind wanders, and it’s no longer my hands massaging his shampoo through my hair. Ryan has stepped in behind me, his massive frame casting a shadow over me as he carefully combs his fingers through my hair.
I can picture the water slicking down his broad chest, tracing the lines of his defined abs, dripping from his brown hair. I can almost feel the phantom heat of his skin, the roughness of his calloused hands tracing paths down the smooth skin of my back.
He leans in, nuzzling my neck with his nose, kissing up my jaw. He turns my head and captures my lips in a possessive kiss that steals the air from my lungs. His hand trails lower, down across the planes of my stomach, slowly inching toward—
I gasp, and the illusion shatters. I blink away the water running down my face. My lungs ache from my shallow, ragged breaths and my heart thrashes wildly.
My skin feels hyper-sensitive from the sheer intensity of my fantasy.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, my face suddenly hot.
I rinse and turn off the faucet, then step out of the shower, water dripping onto the soft bathmat. Grabbing one of the plush oversized towels off the rack, I wrap it around myself.
Snatching one of the smaller towels, I wrap my hair up in it, then quietly dart across the dark hallway to the guest room. The lights are off in the main living space. Ryan must have already gone to bed since his door is shut, and I can’t hear anything from inside.
I shut the door, forgetting to turn on the light, and dig in my suitcase for a pair of pajamas. Finally, I pull out a soft T-shirt and loose shorts. I braid my hair then climb into the bed. Which I only just now realize has my favorite color sheets—teal.
I lie flat on my back, drawing the blankets up to my chin, and stare at the ceiling. Ryan is just across the hall, completely unaware of my filthy thoughts. I shove the fantasy aside and try to think about classes starting tomorrow.