4. Ryke
What time is it?
I blink the morning grog away, reaching for my phone from the bedside table on my right.
7:14 AM.
She’s loud. Ugggh. Fuck. I better get up.
I climb out of bed not bothering to get dressed and walk into the hallway.
What is she listening to? Is that...that’s Drake. She’s listening to Drake at seven in the morning on a Sunday...Headlines, I think.
Making a stop in the bathroom first, I lean against the kitchen doorway at what must be perfect timing. The same oversized sweatshirt and matching baggy shorts hang off her ample hips. She slides side to side in her knee-high socks in front of the sink, rinsing the inside with the spray hose. Then she holds it up and sings the lyrics like it’s a fucking microphone.
I bite my lip, holding in my laughter.
Her hips shake back and forth. She tugs at the waistband of her shorts with one hand, yanking them up as she wiggles to get them back where they belong, not missing a beat. Another rinse and she pushes the hose down.
She’s a hot mess. A fucking hot mess.
Just wait till she sees me.
She spins around, still into her single-woman dance party, picking up a spatula from the counter. Max is making pancakes. She went on a scavenger hunt through the kitchen and found everything she needed, turned on the 2010‘s Hits, and made herself at home like she owns the place.
The spatula in her hand shoots above her head.
What do you call that move?
Red blotches blush her cheeks when she finally notices me.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to consider calling an EMT to make sure you’re not having a stroke.”
Her jaw hangs with a wide-eyed glare before she presses her teeth together. “Uh-huh. Well stop. Get over here and help.” She gives me her back, waving the spatula around. “I know this is your house and all, but you have a guest.”
Chuckling to myself, I push a stool against the island, strolling around to the stove. I tower over her shoulder to see golden circles. The sweet aroma makes my stomach growl.
“Yeah, and you could have woken me up if you were hungry.”
Warm eyes track mine.
Her lips part.
Sultry.
Soft.
Curves.
She swallows and so do I, taking a step back.
“I’m talking about the lack of clothing.” She glances down at my chest. Permanent art covers the right side of my body, climbing up the length of my neck. She’s seen them before, like everyone else.
“Like you and ten thousand other women haven’t seen these abs.” When I point down, her focus slows before she fades away, shaking her head. “I’m not going to seduce you.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.”
“Get back to flipping your pancakes and leave my ego alone.” I lean against the counter, probably missing an eye roll or dirty look.
“Tell me you have something fun planned for today and we’ll be even.” She scoops the cooked batter from the pan, transferring it to a plate.
“What time are you leaving?”
The humming from her throat is uncertain. “Probably around one.”
More batter to the hot pan and a sprinkle of blueberries.
“I have an idea.” It’s a lot less adrenalin, but she’ll like it. “Dress casual.”
“Damn it. I brought my favorite six-thousand dollar dress.”
“You can wear whatever you want, but if it gets ripped, I’m not replacing it.”
A leery frown thins her lips. “Are we rock climbing?”
“There’s a little climbing involved.” She’ll never figure it out.
“Hey.” She shakes her spatula at me. I sink back, avoiding the possibility of flying pancake goop. “I’m not pressing my luck at paintball two days in a row.”
“Why not? I have faith.”
“You’re too generous,” she replies with skepticism. “I think that’ll change when I don’t have your back and you get shot in the ass.”
“I’ve been hit in worse places.”
“Sacked in the sack?” She hands me a plate.
“Your way with words is magical.” Opening the fridge, I find the syrup, top my pancakes, and take a bite before sitting down.
Heaven. Fluffy, melty, addicting heaven. “Duuude. These are fucking magical too.”
“Tips are accepted.”
Slowing past the bend in the road, we stop in front of my favorite house. The same charming wreath that hangs on my front door, hangs in the entryway. One of the double garage doors is lifted, but I don’t see anyone outside. Double the size of my place with double the memories. I bring the truck to a halt, investigating.
“Where are we?” Max stares out the passenger window. Her hair is tucked into a bun, poking out of the back of a tan ball hat that I didn’t know she brought with her till she put it on about five minutes ago. It’s frayed slightly along the rim. She has a little makeup on, a charcoal t-shirt with a band I don’t know, and dark wash jeans today.
“This is my parent’s house.”
Her wide eyes stare me down. “Uh, why are we here Ryke? If you needed me to pretend to be your girlfriend, you could have given me a heads-up.”
“We’re not going inside.”
“We’re doing a drive-by because you’re a show-off. This is a fucking gorgeous house. Isn’t that the same wreath you have?” She points.
“Yeah. My mom makes them for every season.” I pull away and the wind breathes through the cab, thrashing the sleeves of her t-shirt against her freckled skin. “We’re going to the far end of their property. Can you see the orange signs over there?” She nods. “That’s where we’re going.”
“How much is theirs?”
“About fifteen acres.”
“Seems like you come from a family that’s...well off.”
“My mom works in banking. She’s a branch manager...and my dad drives a rig. He taught me to work on them pretty young.”
A soft smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “And you’re the dirty masked guy.”
“Woke up on my tenth birthday and just knew it.” I shrug.
“Come on, Max,“ she mocks. “Let’s go to my parents’ remote property and hang out in the woods. I’m not a psychopath.”
Smart ass.
“You’re gonna eat your words.”
Dust kicks up as I speed through the grass, purposely tearing it up.
“Ow ow!” She hollers, grabbing the oh shit bar.
That laugh.
That smile.
“What is that? What is that!” Her mouth gapes, looking between me and the tree. “Ryke! Dude! That’s a massive treehouse.”
“The best place on Earth.” Cutting the engine, I toss the key in the console and open my door. “What are you waiting for? Go. Be a kid again.”
A toothy grin stretches from ear to pierced ear and she swings open the door, glancing back at me once on her way to the steps. My door latches and I lean against it, letting her explore on her own. She walks around the raised deck in awe. It’s the feeling when you look up at the neighboring trees and the blue sky...and everything else fades. Nothing matters. Not the bills or the bullshit. The warmth against your skin at two in the afternoon or the crisp breeze surrounded by stars at a quarter till midnight. The city can’t bury the beauty out here and it’s why I couldn’t think of a better place to take her today.
I lay on my back, taking in the scattered graying clouds with my hands laced behind my head.
“Is it supposed to rain today?” From the corner of my eye, Max’s red toenails wiggle up and down. I reach out and grab her ankle.
“Get your dirty feet out of my face.” She sits up and kicks me in the ribs.
“Umf.” I hook over.
Like a fucking uppercut delivered by a horse.
“Get your dirty sneakers out of mine.” She falls to her back, clasping her hands together over her stomach. “I’m packing this place into my brain and taking it with me. When I can’t breathe, I’m going to escape to this moment...minus your pain in the ass.” She squints.
“I show you my secret hideaway and get shafted. I’ll remember that. I’m like a fucking elephant. I never forget.”
“Oh, you’re one of those people...The grudge holders.”
“You bet your ass. I’m already holding it over your head. Every time you ask for something—for the rest of your life—I’m going to remind you of the time you stole my treehouse.”
She looks down the deck at me, scooting over a little as if she wants to avoid me grabbing ahold of her again, but she’s already making me think twice about the first time.
“Easy momma’s boy. Someone in your family can afford a new one.”
“This one can’t be replaced. I built it with my dad, my grandpa, and my brother. It’s rooted with memories.”
A nod takes her back to the darkening sky. “A time where things were simple. I get that. Are you close with your family?”
“I am.” I don’t tell Mom everything for her sake. I’m surprised she hasn’t found out by now that I’m no longer at Harrison’s turning a wrench. “What about you?”
“Once upon a time.”
I roll to my side. “What happened?”
“A drunk driver.” Damn it. That’s not what I was expecting. Clashing opinions or something. Not...death. “Ryke.” She pulls her weight forward, wrapping her arms around her knees. She can sense the distress in my silence. “It was a long time ago.”
What do you tell someone who lost their parents tragically after telling them how close you are with your family? My condolences. “I’m sorry. One of my friends...um.” Shit. Why am I telling her about Garren? Fuck. I couldn’t have said anything worse.
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Don’t be. That’s not what I meant.” Rubbing my face down, the choice has already been made. These are the kinds of people I used to associate myself with. I sit up, wetting my lips. “When I was a junior in high school, I went to a party like any other Friday night. My friend, Garren, was destroying his liver and wanted to drive home. I should have tried harder to stop him.” Nothing changes on her face. She doesn’t look angry or upset...not even concerned. “He almost killed a pregnant woman on her way home from working a double shift. He’s lucky he didn’t. Both vehicles were totaled. He broke his wrist and nose. And the woman...she walked away without a scratch, miraculously. She had good karma and a meticulous guardian following her.”
“That’s horrible...and divine. Are you still friends?”
“Would you hate me if I was?”
“No. I wouldn’t.”
I brush my hair back, leaning into my palm. “I wasn’t trying to make it about me. I’m really sorry that you had to go through that.”
“I know.”
“Fuck uhhh, what’s the sweetest memory you have with them. Drown me in sugar. Lay it on thick.” I’m trying to be a good friend.
She’s quite for a moment and then her smile returns. “We had a big breakfast every Sunday morning—the whole nine—eggs, bacon, biscuits with apple butter. I would help my mom crack eggs and mix them, and my dad would set the table, occasionally collecting flowers from the backyard. My mom loved when he would surprise us with them on the table...and so did I.” A soft smile of delicious memories abandon the scars for the time being.
“You gave me diabetes.”
“You deserve it.”
“Harsh words for someone I invited into my secret hideout. It’s usually no girls allowed and I made an exception, but if you’re going to be so aggressive, the exit is that way.”
“You better escort yourself out too then.”
Thunder cracks as the sky ignites. The clouds rapidly spill their contents, downpouring suddenly. I take off toward the cabin. Max cuts in front of me and shoves me out of the way. Clasping my hand around her arm, I tug her behind me in our fight over who’s getting through the threshold first. I stand in the doorway like a boulder, not letting her pass. The smartass drops to her knees and crawls underneath me, between my legs. Squeezing my knees closed, she struggles, trying to break free while raindrops soak her jeans.
She grunts and I laugh. Then she laughs and I lose my balance, stumbling backward only to fall on my ass. She quickly crawls under the security of the roof, but the rain has already done its damage. We’re both soaked and stuck in laughter.
Flat on my back with one knee bent, I use my elbows to push me up. Max is...Max is between my legs. She takes the brim of her hat, tugging it back over her bun and dropping it to the floor. Her hair is a complete mess, with loose pieces hanging and sticking up. I stop laughing, simply inhaling her with the earthy petrichor.
She pulls the band from her arm, slipping it around her wrist, and combing her dark hair back with her fingers. Replacing the band in her hair and then her hat, she looks at me. My jaw twitches and I tuck my chin to my chest before the smile comes alive.
“Thanks for a fun weekend, man.” She nudges me in the knee with her fist.
“Yeah bro, anytime you want to be my sharpshooter, give me a buzz...and when you put your business hat back on, think about my offer.”
She nods.
Friends.
Friends.
Fucking friends.
“Well, you ready to bear the storm?”
“Which one?”