Handcuffs, Kisses and Awkward Situations: Mystery Romance

by Olivia Harvard

  Ryder, on the other hand, was busy cracking eggs into a blender. Mrs. Collins watched us carefully, sipping on her coffee as her eyes skimmed from her son to me. Ryder slid a spoon over to me as he switched the blender on and waited for his protein shake to mix.

  I leaned against the counter, shovelling cereal into my mouth, trying to avoid the icy glare of Mrs. Collins. Glancing over at her son, who now had a seriously weird coloured drink in his hand, I grimaced. I swear his beverage was moving. Watching him swig down the shake suddenly made breakfast far less appealing.

  Mrs. Collins must have read my mind because while I was looking at the soggy remains of my cereal, she said, “You know, Nora, there are dying children out there that would do anything for the privileges of breakfast.”

  I refrained from showing how annoyed she was making me and instead, choked down the last few squares of berry-centred cereal. Once I was done, I dropped my bowl down into the sink and tugged on Ryder’s arm, heading for the door. He protested, quickly disposing the glass as I led us out of the house.

  “Slow down, tiger. Didn’t think you were so enthusiastic to go to practice. You hate footy,” Ryder said as the door slammed shut behind him.

  “Yeah, well, practice sounds better than staying in that house with your mother,” I hissed. “What’s her problem?”

  Ryder’s mother had allowed Ryder to drive her Jeep as long as he was careful. It was a lot larger than Ryder’s sports car, so with only limited struggle, I was able to get in and out of the car easier than expected. As he drove, I couldn’t help but comment on his mother’s snarky remarks.

  “I mean, did you hear her comment about my dress? Does she really think I want to look like a wiener in a bread roll? Of course not!”

  Ryder parked the car and looked like he was going to just straight out slap me, but all he did was flick my forehead and tell me to roll my window up so we could get out of the car. Pressing my finger to the automatic button, I watched it slowly ascend. But once it was almost to the top, a pair of fingers curled in and gripped the moving window.

  I didn’t realise I had kept my finger on the switch until someone let out a painful scream. "Nora! Jesus, Nora!”

  Quickly pressing the opposite button to roll the window down, I saw Caine shaking his fingers, teeth gritted together as he glared at me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

  “Gee, an apology for nearly amputating my fingers would have been nice,” Caine grunted.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “But what are you doing? Couldn’t you see I was rolling it up?”

  Caine glanced through the window and looked over at Ryder. “What’s her problem?” Caine jerked his chin in my direction as if I weren’t listening. “Why is she so snappy?”

  “Conflict with my mum,” Ryder said, opening his side of the door.

  Caine nodded in understanding and circled the car, reaching Ryder’s side. Ryder used the driver controls to wind up my window without causing anyone’s fingers to nearly fall off and once everything was secure, we hopped out of the vehicle. Ryder and Caine instantly fell into their typical boy banter while I trudged along like a third-wheel on their bromance catch up.

  “Hey look, it’s Baker’s bitch.”

  I looked up to see the rest of Ryder’s team pointing towards us. Or, more specifically, me. I was apparently Chris Baker’s bitch. It troubled me knowing that my Friday night date disaster was now Saturday morning gossip to the footy team. The boys made immature noises and comments as we walked over and with every step I took, it just made it harder.

  The voices got louder, remarks were clearer and if I wasn’t chained to Ryder, I would have bolted by now. I felt stupid and insecure, and this was exactly the kind of humiliation I was expecting. But from fairy floss brains who thought football was a religion was something I wasn’t prepared for. I supposed the Chris Baker’s crowd would have been the main source of embarrassing attention, but from the guys at school who didn’t really care about gossip unless it was football or boob related, I wasn’t expecting them to care.

  I fell a step behind Ryder, not wanting to show I was bothered, but I guess I wasn’t doing a good job. Laughs and snickers sounded as we reached the group of testosterone. But after a moment, they all hesitated. Ryder was staring each one of them down, an intense fire burning in his faded blue irises.

  “Nora is with me and while she’s with me, I expect you all to treat her with respect. I don’t have the patience for your crap this morning.”

  One of the guys, one that looked like he had eaten steroids for breakfast, stepped through the pack of guys and faced Ryder. They were about the same height as they stood head to head and glowered at each other.

  “What are you going to do about it, huh, Collins?” The guy’s voice was deep and challenging as he narrowed his eyes at him.

  “Why don’t you ask the last guy who tried to mess with her.”

  I presumed Ryder was referring to his most recent girlfriend when he said her and I was surprised to wonder who she was. I’d have to ask Mel about it.

  A heavy tension fell between the boys. The muscular guy tossed me a dirty look before reluctantly stepping back and into the crowd. Ryder gave the rest of the team a warning look.

  “Why are you boys still standing around?” he barked. “Are we a book club or a footy team?”

  Instantly, the pack split, grunting and huffing as they jogged away to grab equipment and set up obstacle cones. Although Ryder wasn’t captain of the team, he still had the leadership skills to throw a few demands that people would unquestioningly obey.

  The random acts of kindness these past few hours had honestly kind of scared me. At first, I thought he was doing it to receive something seriously sick and twisted back in return. But deep down, a part of me ached thinking it was possible that we were slowly regrowing our friendship. And in that little moment of happiness, I felt like I could have tackled all the harassment and embarrassment in the world.

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Caine smacked his chest. “Back off! You heard the man.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at Caine. He grinned at me, as if I hadn’t nearly chopped his fingers off earlier, and swung an arm around my shoulders.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, “to both of you…”

  Ryder exchanged a look with Caine and they both chuckled. “Don’t thank me,” he said, a wicked tone to his voice as he pulled something out of his gym bag and threw it at me. “Trust me, you’ll hate me.”

  Catching the green piece of fabric, I opened it up and saw it was a shirt. “Oh… God, please… No…”

  “Welcome to the team. Hope you’re ready to play your A game.”

  Twelve

  Training day was hell. Mel and I used to sneak around some warm days and pretend we were doing art projects by the field, but really, we were just watching the footy team run around. Never would I have thought that one of these days, I would actually be on the team.

  “Ow…” I sobbed. “Your stupid football smacked my chest.”

  Caine raised an eyebrow. “You were meant to catch it, Nora. Your boobs aren’t hands.”

  “You didn’t have to peg it at me,” I pointed out.

  Okay, so I definitely wasn’t a football fan. Sure, I loved watching, but playing in an over eighteen men’s team was scary. What Caine considered as a ‘baby throw’ was enough to knock the wind out of me. And my sprinting was considered as a ‘dainty little stroll’ to the guys.

  Caine just chuckled at me, shaking his head as he jogged over and picked up the ball. We were doing the conclusion of our ‘warm up’ exercises, which included pegging balls at each other, running laps around the field, and push ups. Push ups was my favourite part. While all the guys were on their toes, faces tense as they worked their muscles, I got to lay there, face in the grass.

  “Are we gonna have a quick practice game?” Ryder was talking to the coach.

  The coach, mean, muscular, and bald, nodded and soon e
nough, the captain of the team split the boys into two groups: shirts and no-shirts. Ryder and I had been put into the shirts category. Since I couldn’t put my team shirt on, I had just tied the material around my waist. All I had to do was pull it off and toss it away. Ryder, who had been much more prepared, had already cut a slit on the side of his so he could remove it with ease.

  Once everyone was in their positions and the whistle blew, it was total chaos. Teams were yelling instructions to each other; members cooperated and moved about the field as the ball swiftly moved towards the far side of the oval. My legs burned as Ryder dragged me across the turf.

  “Get ready,” Ryder warned.

  I was still trying to catch my breath. “Ready for wh-”

  A football smacked against my head and conveniently landed right into Ryder’s hands. His face determined, he raced down the field while I staggered to keep up with him. Then, at the last minute, Ryder threw the ball into my arms and I instantly freaked out.

  “I don’t want it!” I yelled at him.

  “Just run,” Ryder replied, completely cool with the fact that I was now the next tackle-target.

  So, hugging the ball to my chest with my free arm and closing my eyes, I screamed like a mad woman and charged through. I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t listen to whatever everyone was screaming at me. I didn’t stop running. I just listened to the sound of Ryder’s laugh as we raced across the field.

  Eventually, my warrior scream faded and when I opened my eyes, we were at the touchdown line. Slamming the ball down and watching it bounce around, I let out a victory cry. Ryder was bent over, trying to catch his breath. Not because he was tired, but because he was laughing.

  “Bam!” I said, throwing my arms up in triumph.

  Caine jogged over to us after a moment, a smirk on his face, trying to contain his laughter as he said, “Sweet score,” letting out a chuckle. Then, before I knew it, his hand was at my lower back.

  I guess I freaked out with his sudden wandering hands because I scrambled back and sucked in my breath. “Watch what you’re touching, Caine!”

  Caine shook his head and plucked at the fabric of my dress. “Your dress was tucked into your undies,” Caine said, stumbling back as he clutched his stomach and laughed.

  I felt my cheeks burn. “Is that why you got me to run with the ball,” I snapped at Ryder, trying not to hear the laughs from the rest of the team.

  Ryder stopped laughing and turned insanely serious. “God, no, Nora,” he said, sounding genuinely earnest, “I’d never take advantage of you like that. I handed you the ball because I knew you were safe with it. After the little mishap this morning, I doubted anyone would try to take it from you, despite your entertaining flash of your grandma undies.”

  I felt the colour branch out across my entire face. I was pretty sure my entire body was blushing with embarrassment. It was bad enough that I was already humiliated the previous night. It just made it worse that my mortification increased, running through a field full of boys with my dress tucked into my undies. Ryder just gave me a smile and cupped the side of my face.

  “Come on, pink cheeks, don’t give me that look,” he teased. “Practice is over. We can do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

  I let out an annoyed little whine, but let Ryder direct us towards the change rooms. The boys’ change rooms. We were the last to reach the door. Caine had disappeared earlier so we were the only ones standing outside. I mean, the guys’ bathrooms were one thing, but the locker rooms were a whole other thing.

  However, before I could protest, Ryder pushed open the door and we stepped through. Any girl would be pleased to be privileged to go into the guys’ change room, watching shirtless guys roam around the place. And, sure, I wouldn’t have minded that. Except I could hardly see anything. Steam, thick and hot, fumed through the room, completely blinding me and clogging my lungs.

  I had to keep my hands out in front of me, praying I wouldn’t grab something or someone’s inappropriate business. My only sense of direction was Ryder’s hand at my back, gently steering me through the maze of lockers and benches. I don’t know how Ryder had such a clear view of everything and it startled me when he applied more pressure onto my back and pulled me into him, keeping me out of the way as a guy blindly shoved his way past.

  We were close, really close. Both of us were pressed against the lockers, his free arm around my waist, warm fingers pressed against my spine.

  “Sorry,” he muttered breathlessly, as if he had to control his words so they’d come out right.

  I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on my cheeks. I felt his breathing quicken, his chest rising and falling against mine. But after a while, I realised that it was my breathing that had spiked. I let out a ragged breath and tried to clear my thoughts.

  Why was I feeling so weird? Was it just because it was so hot and stuffy in the room? I couldn’t possibly be developing feelings for my old friend. It was Ryder after all; annoying, arrogant Ryder. We hated each other, ever since that fight almost six years ago.

  Shaking my head, I tried to dismiss the weird feeling and wriggled out of his reach. “God, let go of me,” I said, stepping away, looking away and hoping the mist could cover how my face said I wanted the exact opposite.

  It was stupid. Was it just because I hadn’t really gotten close with a guy in such a long time? Was it just a spark of remembrance of how nice it was to be held in such a way? Maybe I had just been smacked with so many footballs that morning that I couldn’t think straight anymore. I could not be falling for Ryder.

  Right?

  Thirteen

  Ryder said we could do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day. Honestly, I just wanted some space to think. The locker room incident had gotten me all flustered and now I was a complete and utter mess. By the time we got back to Ryder’s house and gotten cleaned up, I had come to the conclusion that I had gotten too many footballs to the head and the locker room odours were making me feel funny.

  Yeah. That’s it. I think.

  Ryder left me to come up with the remaining day’s plans. In the end, we went out back. It was like a pergola, yet cased with glass so if you looked up, you could see the sky. It was one of many privileges Ryder had to his house. So, we sat out there for a while. I snuggled into some warm, comfortable clothes and curled up on the worn, backyard couch with a book. Ryder sat next to me.

  He didn’t seem to mind my choice of activity. He seemed tired. Within a few minutes of settling in, silence had fallen upon us. It wasn’t a tense silence like the one we had experienced in the taxi ride home the previous night. It was… rather comforting.

  When I opened my book, I didn’t read it. I stared blankly at the jumble of words and thought. Absentmindedly, I’d flick the pages over once in a while, appearing to be reading, when really, my mind was racing with so many thoughts.

  Say, hypothetically, if I were to fall for Ryder, what would be my reasons? We had been at each other’s throats for almost six years and without that stupid handcuff demonstration we might have graduated with our silent loathing of each other. But Ryder and I had been handcuffed for nearly three days now. You couldn’t possibly fall for someone in three days.

  Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it was just hate. I had read somewhere that there was a thin line between the two. Hate seemed like a more reasonable explanation, but I didn’t think my hate for him was any more passionate than it was a few days ago. If anything, it had dimmed.

  Perhaps I was just thrilled that Ryder was being nice to me. After six years of hate and a sudden change in attitude, maybe I was just pleased with the difference. Maybe I didn’t like, like him. Maybe I was starting to like him as a friend. He was being extremely compassionate and supportive, especially with the recent disastrous events.

  Looking over at Ryder, who was now fast asleep, I thought further. He sat there, eyes closed, lips slightly parted as he gently snored. His hair was a tousled mess, wisps of dark hair st
icking out in all directions. My eyes skimmed through every line and angle of his face: the arch of his lips, the hollow of his cheekbones, the shape of his jaw. It was no doubt that Ryder was attractive, but that didn’t mean that I actually was attracted to him.

  That makes sense, right?

  In the end, I just ended up back in square one. My thoughts had jumbled up so much that I decided since I had so many football attacks to my head that my brain had rattled up and was making me feel weird things. That, and the seriously foul odours of the boys’ locker room.

  I don’t know how long we stayed outside for. Eventually, I just placed my book down and watched the sun set. Rich, vibrant colours painted the sky, a spectrum of sparkling life. Slowly, the light dimmed and the sky darkened; the faint glitter of stars appearing.

  Ryder woke up at that point, right when the sky bled from colour. He grunted, shifting on the couch as he stretched awkwardly and slumped back into position. He turned and looked at me, rubbing a hand down his face.

  “How long was I out for?” he asked, voice slow and sleepy. His words were pronounced with a deep huskiness which was unquestioningly attractive. But then again, all guys’ sleepy voice was unbelievably addictive.

  “A few hours,” I replied, returning my gaze back at the sky.

  Ryder didn’t really seem interested in my reply. He regarded my response with a smack to his stomach. “I’m starving.”

  I hadn’t realised I was hungry as well until he mentioned it. So, together, we went back inside in a hunt for food. Ryder walked towards the fridge and opened the door, popping his head inside and searched around.

  “I don’t see anything to eat,” he groaned.

  I peeked over his shoulder. “There’s plenty to eat,” I said, eyes widening at the variety of foods.

  “Yeah, but nothing I want to eat,” Ryder complained as he straightened and slammed the door closed, the sound of glass bottles clinking from the impact.