Chapter Eleven
Bella
I wake up Friday morning in Ryan's bed for the second time this week, and the novelty of it still makes my chest flutter with something that feels suspiciously like pure happiness.
There's something different about waking up here now that we're real—no more mental gymnastics about what it means or whether I should be here.
Just the simple certainty that this is where I want to be.
Ryan's already awake, lying on his side watching me with that soft expression that makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world even though I definitely have bedhead and yesterday's makeup smudged under my eyes.
"Good morning," he says, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
"Good morning. How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough to watch you steal half the blankets and mumble something about supply curves in your sleep."
I groan and bury my face in his chest. "Please tell me you're joking about the supply curves."
"I never joke about economics. It's too important to our relationship."
I can hear the smile in his voice, and I lift my head to look at him. "You know, a month ago if someone had told me I'd be in bed with Ryan O'Sullivan discussing my sleep-talking about economic theory, I would have assumed they were describing someone else's life."
"A month ago if someone had told me I'd be in love with someone who dreams about marginal utility, I would have thought they were insane." Ryan's expression turns more serious. "Do you ever think about how differently things could have gone? If you hadn't approached me that day at Victrola?"
I consider this, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Sometimes. But then I remember that I'd been watching you for weeks before I worked up the courage to talk to you. I think I would have found some excuse eventually."
"You were watching me?"
"Don't let it go to your head, but yes. You had this way of looking completely focused during lectures, like you were actually trying to understand everything even when it was obvious you were struggling.
" I pause, remembering those early observations.
"And you were always nice to people. The baristas, other students, even Professor Liu when he was being particularly condescending. I liked that about you."
"So you had a crush on me before our arrangement?"
"I had something. I wasn't ready to call it a crush, but definitely... interest." I meet his eyes. "What about you? When did you first notice me?"
Ryan is quiet for a moment, thinking. "Honestly?
I noticed you the first day of Economics.
You sat in the front row and actually took notes by hand instead of just typing on a laptop.
And when Professor Liu asked that impossible question about market elasticity, you were the only one who raised your hand. "
"You remember that?"
"I remember thinking that you were either incredibly brave or incredibly naive to volunteer to answer Liu's questions. Then you gave this perfect explanation that made the concept click for me in a way it hadn't before, and I realized you were just incredibly smart."
"But you never talked to me."
"Because girls like you don't usually notice guys like me, except when they need something." Ryan's smile is slightly rueful. "I figured you were way out of my league academically and socially. When you approached me at Victrola, I honestly thought it was too good to be true."
"Well, technically I did need something."
"Yeah, but it turns out what you needed was someone to fall in love with. I just happened to be convenient."
I laugh and kiss him, soft and grateful for this moment of honesty between us. "Very convenient."
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, interrupting our lazy morning conversation. I reach for it, expecting to see Riley's name or maybe something work-related, but instead I see an email notification from the University of Washington Graduate School.
"Oh my god," I breathe, sitting up abruptly.
"What?" Ryan's immediately alert, scanning my face for clues.
"I got an email from UW. About my graduate school application." My hands are shaking slightly as I open the email, and Ryan sits up beside me, reading over my shoulder.
Dear Ms. Lawson,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the University of Washington Master's program in Economics, with a concentration in Behavioral Economics. Your research proposal on consumer decision-making in digital markets was particularly impressive to our admissions committee.
Additionally, we would like to offer you a research assistantship position with Professor Sarah Martinez in the Center for Behavioral Economics Research. This position includes full tuition remission and a stipend for living expenses.
Please confirm your acceptance by April 15th. We look forward to welcoming you to our program.
I read the email twice, then a third time, before the reality of it sinks in.
"Bella," Ryan says quietly. "You got in. With funding."
"I got in," I repeat, still staring at my phone. "With funding. To study exactly what I want to study, with a professor whose work I've been following for years."
"How do you feel?"
"Excited," I say finally. "And grateful. And..." I look at Ryan, whose expression is proud and supportive and completely free of the jealousy or resentment I might have expected. "And really happy that I get to pursue this here, with you."
"Even if it means more school? More stress?"
"Even then. Because I know that when I'm stressed about qualifying exams or dissertation research or whatever crisis graduate school throws at me, I'll have someone who understands what pressure feels like."
Ryan's smile is brilliant. "We should celebrate. Dinner somewhere fancy, champagne, the whole thing."
"Actually, don't we have the team dinner tonight? With your teammates?"
"Shit, you're right. Is that okay? I know it's not exactly the romantic celebration you deserve—"
"Ryan." I interrupt him before he can spiral into apologies. "I want to go to the team dinner. I want to meet your friends properly, as your actual girlfriend instead of your fake one. That sounds like the perfect way to celebrate."
But as the day progresses, I find myself getting increasingly nervous about the dinner.
It's one thing to attend a hockey game as Ryan's mysterious new girlfriend, performing for an audience that doesn't know me.
It's entirely different to sit across a table from his closest friends, knowing they're going to evaluate whether I'm good enough for their captain.
???
Later that afternoon, I meet Riley.
"What if they don't like me?" I ask Riley during our lunch break. "What if they think I'm too uptight or too academic or just wrong for him?"
"Then they're idiots who don't deserve Ryan's friendship," Riley says pragmatically. "But Bella, you've already met some of them. Jake seemed to like you at the party."
"That was different. I was performing then. Now I have to be myself."
"And yourself is amazing. Smart, funny, loyal, brave enough to approach a stranger with a fake dating proposition." Riley points her fork at me for emphasis. "Besides, anyone who's important to Ryan will love you because you make him happy. That's all that really matters to good friends."
She's right, of course, but that doesn't stop me from changing outfits three times before Ryan picks me up for dinner. I finally settle on jeans, a tee shirt and blazer that Riley insists makes me look "approachable but put-together"—whatever that means.
"You look beautiful," Ryan says when I open my door, and the sincerity in his voice settles some of my nerves.
"I'm nervous," I admit as we walk to his car.
"Why?"
"Because these are your best friends. And I want them to like me."
Ryan stops walking and turns to face me. "Bella, they're going to love you. But even if they didn't—which they will—it wouldn't change how I feel about you. You know that, right?"
I do know that, intellectually. But emotionally, I want the people who are important to Ryan to see what he sees in me.
The restaurant is a casual Mexican place near campus. We're the last to arrive, and I can see Ryan's teammates scattered around a long table in the back corner.
"There they are!" Jake calls out as we approach, raising his beer in greeting. "The happy couple!"
"Jake," Ryan warns, but he's smiling.
"What? I'm just excited for you." Jake grins at me.
I settle into the chair Ryan pulls out for me.
The conversations continue around the table—Tommy Rodriguez, who immediately starts telling me embarrassing stories about Ryan's rookie year; Alex Chen, who seems genuinely interested in my graduate school plans; and several other players whose names I try to memorize while simultaneously trying to follow three different conversations.
"So," Tommy says once everyone has drinks and the initial chaos of ordering has settled. "We need to know your intentions with our captain."
"Tommy," Ryan groans, but he's laughing.
"No, this is important. Ryan's been through a lot of—"
"I have not—"
"—casual relationships that went nowhere. We need to know you're serious about him."
The directness of the question catches me off guard, but I appreciate the protectiveness behind it. These men care about Ryan, and they want to make sure I'm not going to hurt him.
"My intentions are to support his dreams, celebrate his successes, and be there when things get difficult," I say honestly. "I intend to love him as well as I can for as long as he'll let me."
The table goes quiet for a moment, and I worry that I've been too serious, too intense for what was probably meant to be light teasing.
Then Jake raises his beer. "I'll drink to that."
"To Bella," Alex adds. "Who apparently gives speeches that make our captain tear up a little."
"I'm not tearing up," Ryan protests, but his voice is slightly rough.
"You're totally tearing up," Tommy says. "It's actually kind of sweet."
The conversation flows more easily after that.
I find myself relaxing into the dynamic, enjoying the easy camaraderie between these men who've spent years working together toward common goals.
They tease each other mercilessly but with obvious affection, and they include me in their jokes and stories in a way that makes me feel genuinely welcome.
"So what's this I hear about a scout meeting?" Alex asks during dessert.
Ryan glances at me before answering. "Seattle Kraken wants to meet next week. Could be nothing, could be everything."
"Dude, that's huge," Tommy says. "Home team interest? That's like winning the lottery."
"If it works out," Ryan says carefully.
"It'll work out," Jake says with characteristic confidence. "And even if it doesn't, you've got backup plans now. Right, Bella?"
All eyes turn to me, and I realize they're asking about more than just Ryan's career prospects. They're asking whether I'll stick around if his hockey dreams don't pan out exactly as planned.
"Right," I say, looking directly at Ryan. "We'll figure out whatever comes next together."
The approval around the table is palpable, and I feel something settle in my chest that I didn't even realize was tense.
Later, as we're walking back to Ryan's car, he takes my hand and squeezes it gently.
"That went well," he says.
"You think?"
"I think my teammates are half in love with you themselves now. Jake asked if you have any single friends."
"I'll ask Riley if she's interested in dating a goalie."
"God help him if she is."
We drive back toward my apartment in comfortable silence, both of us processing the evening. It feels like another milestone crossed, another step toward building a real life together.
"Ryan?" I say as he walks me to my door.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for sharing your friends with me. For letting me into that part of your life."
"Thank you for wanting to be part of it." He kisses me softly. "And congratulations again on graduate school. I know I said it earlier, but I'm really proud of you."
"Even though it means more years of me stress-baking and talking about economic theory?"
"Especially because of that."
As I get ready for bed, I think about how much has changed in just a few weeks.
I went from making careful plans based on logical analysis to making decisions based on trust and love and faith in an uncertain future.
I went from trying to make one man notice me to being completely seen and cherished by another.
And tomorrow, I get to start planning for my parents' visit, for Ryan's scout meeting, for all the beautiful complications that come with building a real relationship with someone who sees the world differently than I do but loves me exactly as I am.
It's messy and unpredictable and nothing like the careful five-year plan I started college with.
It's also the best thing that's ever happened to me.