He grunted from the unexpected force and scanned my room. “You haven’t changed.”
I saw a flash of remembrance spark up in his faded blue eyes. And even though his lips didn’t arc into a smile, I could almost, faintly, see the memory in his cerulean eyes. But once I blinked, his eyes were back to their normal; a casual stare of boredom.
“So, where am I supposed to sleep tonight?” he questioned, casually sweeping his hand towards my bed.
It was going to be a long night. A really long night.
Four
Eve used to hate tomato sauce… Well, that’s until she got pregnant. Then she started drinking it like water. I watched in captivated disgust as she reached over, grabbed the bottle and squirted it over her chicken salad. Once her salad was no longer green, she placed the bottle back down and picked up her fork.
Patrick, Eve’s boyfriend, looked down at her saucy bowl. “Honey, our baby is going to come out a tomato if you keep this up,” he teased.
Eve rolled her eyes and shoved a fork full of tomato covered lettuce into her mouth. Since my parents were on holiday, they decided to give the responsibility of me to my sister. My mother insisted that it would be the perfect opportunity to practice taking care of a child, because apparently newborn babies and seventeen-year-olds are the same: we both eat, sleep, and cry a lot. Patrick was probably the only person that was keeping us all sane. He was a part time music teacher at the local primary school and spent his weekends singing for old people at the nursing homes. He didn’t make much money, but he was happy, and he made Eve happy too.
As always, he started the topic at the dinner table. “So, why are you two handcuffed again? Is this some sort of high school partner-trusting exercise?”
“No,” Eve answered before I could. “Police department handcuffed them together for a demo during their career speech, and then they lost the key.”
Patrick sighed. “That’s going to stir up some paparazzi, especially with all the advances in social media. Police never do that kind of thing and it’s going to attract the public.”
There’s that saying that everyone gets fifteen minutes of fame. I had always questioned the statement, but being handcuffed to Ryder suddenly turned the tables. I wondered if he media would camp outside my house overnight and wait until morning to snap a quick picture of us like we were celebrities. Well, the word celebrities was a bit of a stretch. More like abnormalities.
I wondered if my parents would find out and how they would react. Just because they were halfway across the globe didn’t mean they didn’t have access to the internet. And because of social media, it’d take mere hours for the news to travel. Would they decide to come home? Would they sue?
How were parents meant to react to this type of situation?
Eve and Patrick seemed unaffected. I mean, I guess Ryder and I weren’t exposed to any physical injury or anything. The handcuffs were just a nuisance, a constant discomfort. They appeared to have total faith that the issue would be resolved without their participation. I wish I shared that thought.
“So, do you kids know what you want to do after graduation?” Patrick must have sensed the discomfort and tried to switch up the atmosphere.
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, dropping half a cherry tomato into my mouth. “I want to travel, then go to university to study.”
Patrick grinned in approval. He had been all over the world after he finished high school, from the busy streets of Tokyo, to the paradise of Fiji. “You have to go to Florida. It’s beautiful.”
I did some kind of half nod, half shrug at him. Just as I was about to scoop an uncooked noodle into my mouth, Ryder decided to pick up the salt shaker from the centre of the table and sprinkle his salad. And since I was chained to his left hand, his jerking wrist made mine jolt, too, until I looked like I was having a seizure.
My shaking hand flew bits of my dinner across the table. “Ryder!”
I watched as a piece of baby spinach flung off the tip of my fork and landed on Eve’s belly. She must have mistaken it for something else, because she started screaming like a madwoman. I rolled my eyes as she flapped her arms. Seriously. It was a bit of spinach. Did she think the vegetable leaf was going to attack her?
“What the hell is that?” she squealed. “Patrick!”
“Honey,” her boyfriend soothed, picking up my dinner from her stomach. “It’s a piece of spinach.”
“Oh.” Eve stopped her flapping and reached over, eating the leaf right off his hand. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Good God, my sister is weird.
Patrick coughed and wiped his hand on his work trousers before smiling at Ryder, continuing our conversation like Eve hadn’t just eaten from his palm like a horse. “What about you, man? Any plans after graduation?”
Ryder placed the salt back down. “I got offered a scholarship to Oxford.”
I nearly choked on a noodle. “What?”
Ryder looked at me like I was stupid. “Oxford. England. I dunno, I guess I’ll crash with a few cousins.”
“What are you gonna study? Alcohol and the female anatomy? ”.
“Nora,” Eve warned, glaring at me from across the table.
I mean, Ryder wasn’t the smartest cookie in the jar. In year seven, he decided to become an astronaut. He thought he could fart hard enough to blast him off to the moon—he was incredibly proud of his famous Silent but Deadly ones. And even though that was the same year our friendship ended, I didn’t have much faith that his maturity had developed all that much since then.
“No,” Ryder said, looking at me seriously for once. “I’m going to study law.”
“I didn’t know you were into that stuff.”
He shrugged. “You don’t really know me at all, Nora.”
~♥♥♥~
What Ryder had said at dinner replayed in my head like a broken record. I didn’t even know why. I mean, it was true. We hadn’t been friends for five years. He had changed and developed and so had I. But this distant storm of emotion stirred inside me, making me regret what had happened to us. And somewhere dark in the back of my mind, I wondered what we would be like if we hadn’t fought that night.
“You’re either thinking really hard, or you gotta go to the toilet.” The sound of Ryder’s voice broke me from my trance.
I frowned at him. “Shut up.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, but turned his attention back to the flickering television. The faint, blue glow of the screen illuminated Ryder’s face, casting shadows against his defined cheekbones. Realising I was staring, I frowned and tore my eyes away. I gazed blankly at the motion pictures that passed the screen and almost instantly, the remorse of losing our friendship dimmed until there was no trace of it left.
“When are you kids going to bed?” Eve had two boxes of Oreos in her hands, dark crumbs sprinkled across her face.
“Soon,” I mumbled.
“Well, don’t forget to fill up Marshmallow’s bowl in the morning. He’ll be out of water by then,” she reminded me, before quietly shuffling upstairs.
“You feed your marshmallows?” Ryder asked, smirking.
“Marshmallow is my cat. Well, we think he’s a cat.”
“What do you mean you think he’s a cat?”
“He’s got too much hair to tell.”
Ryder’s lips arched into half a smile, but he didn’t say anything. Slowly, he craned his neck back towards the television and ran a hand through his messy, dark hair. A yawn escaped his lips as he sunk himself deeper into the lounge, his eyes drooping as he gazed blankly at the screen. Sleepy Ryder was kind of scary. No witty remarks or childish insults. It left us in this awkward bubble of silence.
“I’m sleepy,” I announced, shifting in my seat as I searched for the remote.
Ryder groaned sleepily in agreement.
Switching the television off, I stood and waited for him to follow. He lazily stood, stretched, and allowed me to lead the way. As we passed the lights,
Ryder flicked them off, except for the motion-censored one in the foyer—we kept it on so people could find their way into the kitchen for midnight snacks. It surprised me that I didn’t have to give him the instructions to do it. He had remembered the drill from years ago. I smiled slightly as we headed towards the staircase.
As we ascended up the stairs, Ryder’s butt started making noises. And vibrating. I pointed to him. “Your ass is singing.”
He tossed me a filthy look before he reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out his phone. He scanned the screen for the caller ID, and then reluctantly pressed the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Mum,” he greeted, sounding less than enthusiastic. He paused for a moment, waiting for a reply. “I know. I’m at a mate’s house.”
I made a gagging sound when he said ‘mate’. When we reached my room, his eyes narrowed into slits. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside, Ryder following close behind.
“I’m doing… a school project. No, not with Caine. No. Yes, a girl,” he continued, then made an unattractive half grunt, half snort. “I guess. What do you mean that’s not an answer?” Ryder groaned softly, then tilted his face away, whispering. “Okay, maybe she’s kind of pretty. But what does that matter?”
I elbowed him in the stomach and he groaned from the impact. Then, as he listened to his mother’s reply, he straightened, eyes widening. “Mum,” he hissed, lowering his voice, “we aren’t doing anything—Mum.”
Sounds like a pleasant conversation.
“Yes, yes, I know. Okay, yeah,” he mumbled. He quickly looked up at me then lowered his voice again and said in a rush, “I love you too. Okay, bye.”
Puffing his chest out, he glared down at me. Ryder was about a foot taller, towering at overt six feet. Then there was me, the same size of a lawn gnome. However, after the phone call with his mother, Ryder seemed to think he just lost a thousand macho points, so puffing up like a cheese ball while doing his best manly stare at me was his attempt at gaining his lost masculinity.
I refrained from rolling my eyes and tugged him towards my bed.
We had set up Ryder’s bed space before dinner. A spare blanket was sprawled out on the floor as well as my sleeping bag. Slowly, we carefully dropped into our places. My arm awkwardly dangled from the side of my bed, skimming against the floor as it rested close to Ryder’s, fingertips inches away. It was an awkward position to sleep in and difficult to get comfortable, but I managed to find the most tolerable spot.
Closing my eyes, I instantly drifted into that lazy stage between consciousness and dreaming. It had been an extremely long and tiring day and I wanted to rest. But just as I was about to fall into a deep slumber, a loud snort erupted from Ryder.
Guess some things never change.
As predicted, it was already looking like an extremely long night.
Five
Sharing a bathroom with my sister is hell. But sharing the bathroom with Ryder is worse.
The following morning, we were in the bathroom together, shoving and pushing each other as we tried to get as much reflection view as possible. My muscles ached everywhere from having to sleep in the same position all night. My body was tense and I really needed a shower. But we were meant to get out of the handcuffs by the time school was over, so I decided I’d wait until I was alone.
When we finally stopped battling by the sink, Ryder rubbed some shaving cream onto the stubble that had magically grown on his chin overnight and picked up the new razor we had stolen from my parents’ bathroom. While he was busy carefully gliding the razor over his stubble, I picked up an eyebrow wax strip and leaned in towards the mirror to get a better look at my eyes.
It was stupid and risky and I probably would have had better luck shaving my eyebrows into shape, but I wasn’t thinking. I couldn’t stop thinking that we’d be treated like the Kardashians and have journalists with microphones and cameras stalking us as soon as we left the house. I didn’t want to be in the newspaper in general. But being in the newspaper with one giant eyebrow didn’t sound very appealing either. A picture says a thousand words after all.
Tearing off the back, I slowly aimed the strip at the bush on my brow. But just as I was about to carefully put it in place, Ryder decided he wanted to feel how baby-butt-soft his jaw had become. His left hand shot out to stroke his face, causing my steady fingers to yank in his direction and accidentally plaster the wax strip halfway down my eyebrow.
“Ryder!” I squealed in horror as I squinted at the wax strip firmly planted in place.
He took one look at my panicked expression and burst out laughing. Frowning, I slapped his hand, causing him to lose his grip on the razor. It went flying into the air and landed in the toilet bowl with a splash. That would teach him to always put the lid down. He growled in annoyance.
“I wasn’t finished yet!” he hissed.
Just at that moment, Eve burst in through the bathroom, a jumbo tub of Nutella in one hand and a giant spoon the size of an ice-cream scoop in the other.
“I can hear you guys fighting from downstairs. You’re going to be late if you keep it up,” she said, licking the chocolate spread off her huge spoon. When she finally got a good look at us, she added, “Why did you decide to wax half your eyebrow off? And why did you only shave half your face?”
Silently, Ryder and I glared at each other.
“Listen, if you guys want a ride, I’m leaving in fifteen minutes,” Eve said before turning and strutting away.
“I can’t wait to get out of these handcuffs,” I grumbled.
Ryder took another quick glance into the mirror and sighed at his reflection. “Guess there’s no time to finish shaving.”
“At least your issue is resolvable. What the hell am I supposed to do? Glue on a new eyebrow?”
“If you’re desperate.” He shrugged and quickly rinsed the remaining shaving cream from his face while I looked at the perfectly bald space where my eyebrow had once been.
“It’s not like I buy spare eyebrows on eBay and have them randomly sitting around my house in case one of my real ones goes missing,” I hissed, rubbing my forehead. “What am I meant to do now? Just draw one? Oh my God. I can draw my eyebrow on.”
I probably had better ideas but I was cold and tired and hadn’t changed clothes for twenty four hours.
“What do you mean we have to wait a week for further instructions?” I snapped, my blood boiling in fury.
We had skipped half of our first lesson and wasted it on unproductive arguments in the principal’s office. As always, the room smelt like strong coffee, an exotic mixture of freshly ground beans and stained breath. The office was warm and the seat I occupied was heated too, as if someone’s butt had warmed it prior to our arrival.
Cool and collected, Mrs. Westfield, looked at us over her glasses. Her dirty blonde hair was tied up in a neat bun, a few silvery aged strands glittering in the weak, winter morning sunlight. Her lips pursed - an unconscious habit of hers, even if she wasn’t frustrated - and she answered.
“Officer Brandy, Officer Garrett, and I have contacted the head chief and have been strictly notified to wait a week until he has returned from vacation. We are unauthorised to take any further action,” she explained.
“Isn’t it a legal requirement for policemen to help citizens in need? I mean, that’s what they’ve been trained to do. It’s their responsibility to resolve problems immediately, not postpone them!” Ryder, too, obviously had no shame in expressing his anger.
“Mr. Collins, as I have said multiple times, the police department has much more serious cases to investigate. It is expected, as young adults, that you handle the situation in a mature and sophisticated manner.” Our principal effortlessly gave us an intimidating stare, almost challenging us to further press on the topic.
A challenge I accepted. “It’s outrageous, though. Wouldn’t you feel the exact same way if you were in our position?” I retorted, unable to control my temper. “I mean, look! I didn’t sleep a
t all due to his snoring, I haven’t showered in over twenty-four hours, and I only have half an eyebrow. Half an eyebrow.”
Mrs. Westfield briefly glanced at my drawn-on eyebrow, picked up her pen and started scribbling down on some documents laid out neatly in front of her. “You’re late enough. I think it’s time you went to class.”
She picked up a pre-written late slip and tossed it over without looking up or lifting her pen from the paper. Snatching the note, we stood up from the rough leather chairs and stormed out of the staff’s premises. The main block was on the other side of the school, so we made a shortcut through the quad.
“Damn, it’s freezing. This day doesn’t get any better, does it?” Ryder grumbled through gritted teeth as the harsh, wintery winds whipped our bare skin until it was tender.
“You look cold, Nora.”
I looked over my shoulder at the sound of my name. There, standing on the other side of the quad, was Chris Baker. We had this ‘thing’ - a ridiculous noun Mel used to describe the situation - going on for almost a month. Mostly shameless flirting and little teases. Although he wasn’t on Ryder’s elite level of popularity, he was generally well known and loved. With his dreamy brown eyes and sandy hair, it was hard not to like him.
“Yeah, I am.”
Chris shot me a heart-warming smile, sending shivers of pleasure running through me. As he neared, he probably would have noticed a few things. One, I was handcuffed to another person. And two, I had a drawn-on eyebrow. If he noticed, he didn’t say - or even do - anything that suggested it.
“Here,” Chris said, shrugging off his blazer, “take this.”
I reached out and took his blazer. The fabric was warm as I slid an arm though and awkwardly tried to balance the other half on my shoulder. Although we were ages away from the beach, he always seemed to smell like the ocean. It was refreshing and comforting, the scent lingering on his jacket.
Handcuffs, Kisses and Awkward Situations: Mystery Romance Page 3
