Chapter Six
Lana
“Incorrect,” Ryan’s deep voice rumbles. I feel him grin against the back of my head. He reaches out to tap my textbook. “That’s the equation for thermal conductivity, not convective heat transfer.”
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “They both deal with thermodynamics, Ryan. Give me a break, my brain is fried.”
“Not until you can give me the correct answer, baby girl. You wouldn’t want whatever you’re making to fall apart under pressure, right?” he teases, wrapping his large hands around my waist and pulling me back against his chest.
“What if I’m already falling apart under pressure?” I groan, shivering as his lips brush against the sensitive skin behind my ear.
“Well, I did say there were penalties for wrong answers.”
He’s been home for less than twenty-four hours and has spent the last two torturing me—or, in his words, “helping” me study for my first major exam.
Correct answers earn me passionate, breathless kisses that make my brain mush, and wrong answers result in slow, maddening torture that brings me right to the edge, then leaves me hanging and frustrated. It’s a Catch-22.
I turn around in his arms and grip the front of his shirt. My heart slams violently against my ribs and my breath catches when I look up to see him staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I’m about ready to tackle him onto the couch when he leans in and kisses me. All plans of sliding his pants down those thick, muscular thighs to take exactly what my body wants go right out the window.
Especially once the front door swings open unexpectedly and Ryan jerks away from me.
I freeze, my heart dropping into my stomach.
In the doorway is Tucker, glaring at Ryan and me.
“Tucker? I thought you were deployed?” I sputter.
He steps inside, his face red with fury. “I scheduled my R&R leave so I could surprise Ryan. It also worked out that I could come see how your semester was going.”
The betrayal in his voice breaks my heart, tearing me between my love for my big brother and my love for Ryan.
He looks between Ryan and me, both of us frozen in place, unable to form words.
The door slams shut, and I wince.
Tucker crosses his arms. I haven’t seen him this angry in a long time, not since before he left for basic training. Dread pools in my stomach like a lead weight.
“What the hell is going on?” Tucker demands, stepping right up into Ryan’s space. Their chests bump against each other. “Did you touch my sister?”
Ryan raises his hands desperately in a bid to defuse the situation. I watch, wide-eyed as my brother and his best friend go toe-to-toe. I shrink back on myself. I don’t want them to fight, especially not about me.
“Tucker, back off,” Ryan says, his expression hardening. “Lana and I are both adults. Whatever happened between us is between us.”
Tucker’s jaw clenches. “So something did happen.”
Ryan glances at me before turning back to him. “This started because of the PR situation. You know that. Lana agreed to help me out, and that’s all you need to know.”
This started because of the PR situation.
That’s all you need to know.
He doesn’t deny that something happened between us, but he doesn’t tell Tucker the truth, either. That somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling fake. Well, at least it did for me.
But maybe it never did for him.
The realization hits like a physical blow to the chest. Tears prick hot and fierce at the corners of my eyes. Am I really just a PR stunt to him?
The emotional whiplash is too much.
Choking back a sob, I slam my laptop shut, gather up my notebooks, and storm off down the hallway.
I shove my textbooks and laptop into my backpack, then toss a couple of outfits in my carry-on.
The soft colors of my T-shirts blur into the teal bedspread.
I dart across the hall to retrieve my phone charger from Ryan’s room and disappointment stings when I realize Ryan and Tucker are still arguing and haven’t noticed my absence.
Angry, I shove the charger in my backpack and shove my arms through the straps. I consider grabbing my toiletries but decide I can get them later. I really don’t want to be here right now.
The wheels of my carry-on catch on the plush carpet and I pull hard, stumbling into the hallway. The argument stops abruptly.
“Lana?” Ryan’s voice is soft—too soft. I ignore him, making a beeline for the front door.
“Sis?” Tucker asks, and I can hear the tense concern around his anger.
“I’ll be staying with a friend,” I say coldly, letting a wave of numbness wash over me. I just need to get somewhere else.
“Lana,” Tucker says.
I hear Ryan tell him to let me go, and the sound of their bickering follows me out into the hallway. Ignoring the muffled argument, I stomp over to the elevator and push the button. It opens immediately.
I call the only friend at school I’ve gotten close enough with to warrant having a phone number for.
“Hello?” She answers on the second ring.
“Leah? Is it alright if I come stay with you tonight?” I ask, barely holding back tears.
“Oh my god, are you crying? Is everything okay? Of course you can stay. Do you need a ride?” Leah rapid-fires questions at me, and I hear her keys jingling.
“I can get an Uber. It’s al—”
“No, I’m coming to get you. Where are you?” she asks, and I hear a car door slam.
I’m outside now, and I look both ways down the street. There’s a gas station a block down, and I start walking toward it. “Can you pick me up at a gas station near Ryan’s apartment? I’ll text you the address.”
I never gave her the exact address, to ensure Ryan’s privacy. I text her the address for the gas station, then bring the phone back up to my ear.
“I’m on my way. Be there asap,” Leah says, then hangs up.
That’s when the tears start to fall.
***
An hour later, Leah hands me a cool glass of water and sits next to me on her couch. I just finished telling her everything, and my chest feels cracked open for the second time today.
Leah’s one-bedroom on-campus apartment looks like a college girl lives there.
Band posters and engineering formula sheets are taped on the walls, a few stuffed animals are carefully placed beside the pillows on her bed in the corner, and a clothing rack full of skinny jeans and skimpy dresses are on display.
My phone buzzes on the armrest for the umpteenth time. The screen lights up with Ryan’s name, the little heart emojis next to it mocking me. I ignore it.
I’d answered one of Tucker’s calls earlier. I told him I was safe, but I wanted to be left alone, then hung up. Screw both of them.
The thought finally breaks the dam holding back my tears, and I bury my face in my hands as deep, sobbing gasps force themselves out of my throat.
Leah takes the glass from me and sets it down on the coffee table before wrapping her arms around me.
I can smell her strawberry perfume and vanilla shampoo.
She smells exactly like walking into Bath and Body Works.
I clutch at her Justin Bieber t-shirt, the softness under my fingers the only thing grounding me in reality.
“It’ll all work itself out,” Leah reassures me, pulling away. “Here, let me get you a cool cloth for your face.”
I take a sip of the water and watch her walk back over to the little kitchenette. She pulls out a pink washcloth and runs it under cold water, wrings it out, and comes back to sit down beside me.
She trades me the cloth for the glass. I press it to my swollen lids and sigh. The coolness feels wonderful.
“Why did I never know about this trick?” I ask, trying to make light of the situation. I’ve been crying on and off since she picked me up.
“My older sister taught me that trick after my first boyfriend broke up with me.” She shrugs.
“Come here.” She wraps me in another hug and I scoot closer, grateful for her compassion.
We met a few weeks ago and only had a couple of classes together.
I wasn’t sure she’d actually come when I called, but she’s the only friend I have here.
“You can stay as long as you need. We can even talk to the office about moving you in permanently if you want.” She pulls back and gives me a reassuring smile.
“Sometimes a little distance can force someone to actually confront how they really feel. Maybe he’ll come riding in like a knight in shining armor to fix all this. ”
Hope blooms in my chest, small like daisies, but it’s there.
I scoff and choke back another sob. Bitterness coats my tongue like a milkshake gone sour. “And what if he doesn’t? Then what?”
Guilt washes down the bitter taste and I scold myself for feeling a seed of hope that he might try and fix things.
“Trust me, girl. You've got him wrapped around your little finger from what you’ve told me. He'll come running for you. Just give it time.”