“You may have a point there.”
We continue to have small talk, and I learn that Ryan is a pretty well-rounded person for her age. She can play a couple different instruments, although she said that she doesn't regularly. She can speak Spanish fluently, but again, doesn't that often. There's a lot that she knows how to do, but it seems as if she doesn't actively do any of them. She was right. There's nothing that stands out enough for her to dedicate herself fully. I'm sure there is more to it than that, though. However, she has definitely attempted to find that passion she's always talking about based on what she's told me.
There are so many hidden secrets about Ryan. She goes back and forth between talking a tad bitterly about her childhood to acting as if it wasn't a big deal at all. Her tone mostly carries an air of factual, there's-nothing-I-can-do-about-it-so-why-worry type of attitude. The familiar urge to figure out the crooks and crannies of her bitterness and repair them rises within me. I always find women who are in some way broken, and I always want to put them back together. Somehow, I'm alone in the end. That's for another day though.
As our night dies down, and we head to back to her place, Ryan becomes a dangerously enticing woman, slowly luring me in. There are the simple touches like her hand high on my thigh as I drive with those fingers of hers trailing a carefree pattern. There's her laugh, which is ridiculously sexy. It's almost as if she knows just the exact laugh that will turn a guy on. And then the tempting, dirty words she seemingly casually throws out about what could come.
By the time we make it up the stairs and stand outside Ryan's apartment door, I've been captured. My mind and body are capable of thinking of only one thing. She's lets go of my hand to unlock her door, but she doesn't push it open. Instead, she turns, leans against her door and tugs me towards her with a sexy, sly smile. My chest is flush against hers, my hands clutching her hips. A fog officially clouds my mind as my senses zone in on her lips and this killer body. I don't even get the opportunity to be the one to lean into her first because Ryan does it.
She watches me as she brings her face to mine, her lips brushing against mine lightly at first. They lift into a quick, small smile as if knowing I'm hooked before she presses them to my lips. Ryan brings her hands flat on my chest. The feel of her is everywhere, all over my body, demanding attention. When she opens her mouth, my tongue instinctively reaches for hers. Ryan has a bit of a sweet taste from the cake. She grips the back of my neck, deepening the kiss, drowning my senses with all of her. Nothing exists in this moment except her.
When she pulls away, my lips can't help but try to follow them, wanting to reconnect. Ryan giggles and smiles while lightly running her fingers back down my chest. In a breathy, seductive voice, she asks, “Would you like to come inside?”
I nod quickly before kissing her hungrily again. We head inside a moment later, my hands still firmly planted on her body. Ryan falls onto the couch and pulls me down with her. I easily get lost in her touch. With her heady kisses, it feels like she's pouring everything she has into them to make them as hot as possible. She expertly removes our clothes, revealing a tattoo on her hip of a dandelion with the white seeds floating away.
While kissing me, Ryan reaches down between us, wrapping her fingers around me for a moment before guiding me inside her. Ryan is a powerful seductress as she infuses every movement, sound, and touch with an almost primal need. It drives me crazy with need before I finally come undone with my release a minute after she shudders with pleasure beneath me.
That was hands down some of the best sex I've ever had. But afterwards, as I'm redressing, I see two more tattoos on her back as she disappears down the hall to change into pajamas. One a large, pink seahorse on the right side, and on the left, a black and blue lavishly drawn outline of a hummingbird. Her absence causes me to suddenly realize what has happened.
Me, the classic good guy, just had sex on the first date with a nineteen year old. Almost twenty. I nearly feel sleazy. So easily she was able to make me run past a line I normally don't even cross. Not to mention that based on the fact that she did ask me inside, she probably does this often. Sex on a first date is most likely normal for her. Without meaning to, I shake my head. This girl is already messing with me.
“You all right, Gabe?” Ryan questions with just a touch of concern. She sits down on her couch, wearing girly pajamas. I've come to notice that most of her emotions are carefully, very subtly crafted into her voice when she speaks. Unless you're really listening, you'll miss it.
“Yeah. I should probably go.” I stuff my hands into my pockets. Her long legs are on display for me, and my mind is already thinking about sex again.
No. I can't go there right now. I can't be drawn in again, no matter how easy that would be.
Ryan stands, walks over to me, and kisses my cheek innocently. “Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”
How does she manage to look so pure when I feel so lousy? Ryan is watching me, waiting for me to speak. Clearing my throat, I say, “Thank you. We'll have to do something again.”
Her eyes are full of doubt even while she agrees, “Yes, we will.”
“G'night, Ryan.”
And then I'm gone, wondering how tonight and Ryan fits with the kind of man I strive to be. Because tonight, after I left, I didn't particularly feel like an honorable man.
Chapter Four
Ryan
I stare at the door long after Gabe is gone. I've slept with plenty of guys before and never have any of them looked so...so guilty afterwards. At least, to me, that's kind of how he looked. With my parents, I'm used to negative emotions and not meeting their expectations. But with guys? I'm usually pretty good with them. Am I losing my touch or something? Why did he look like that?
Finally, I get tired of staring at the door, so I go lay in bed and stare at my ceiling instead. The ceiling is so much more interesting, you know. With a sigh, I wonder if maybe my disappointment streak is starting to expand to my entire life and not just with my parents. That list is a long one. First, they decided to let the gender of their child be a surprise, but they were praying for a boy. That obviously didn't happen. Then there's my long list of activities where I either wasn't good enough for them to keep paying for it or they pressured me too much and I quit. It never failed. Every time I found something I enjoyed, they over-compensated on pushing me to be my absolute best. And my absolute best was never good enough for them.
I guess since I wasn't a boy, they figure me to be helpless or something. My parents have such high expectations for me and over the years, I started rebelling against all of them. Some for the better, some for the worst. All I've heard about is how things would be so much easier had I been a boy, and I gave up trying to please them to a certain point. I am in college and my grades are fantastic, but to make them even a little proud of me? That is obviously never going to happen, which makes me think of my stupid comment to Gabe about me meeting his parents.
That would have been a disaster. I have dissatisfied my parents enough. I don't need to let down someone else's. And trust me, they would hate me. I'm too outspoken, too sexually-inclined, too everything-your-mother-warned-you-about. Not to mention that I'm a quitter and tattooed and nothing parents like in a girl as a person and especially not as their son's girlfriend. Hell, if I were a guy and I was dating me, I wouldn't bring me home to my parents either. I know myself better than anyone else does, so I'm positive this is true.
Maybe my intuition about Gabe being a one hundred percent good guy is true. Before he left, he must have realized that this, me, obviously won't end well on his behalf and that's what the look on his face was. My phone vibrates on my nightstand, but it's just Viv, and I don't want to talk to her right now. Unfortunately, my gut says that Gabe is going to be placed on my long list of inadequacies. Oh well, right? I'm not dating material anyway.
That's my last thought as I drift to sleep.
* * *
Viv and I are out shopping. She wants to kno
w about last night, and I want a new outfit to wear to the party tonight. The autumn air is getting chilly, but it's not cold enough to cover up a lot of skin. I feel the want to flaunt my body at this party, so that's the kind of outfit I'm searching for.
“All right. I'm dying to know, Ryan. Tell me already!” Viv says once we walk into our first store of the day.
I roll my eyes at her. “It went well. We went to his little brother's football game and went to a little café for cake. Then we went back to my place for sex.”
“Good guys don't fuck on the first date, so you must have been wrong about that,” she comments.
“I don't know,” I trail off. Viv may be my best friend, but there is still a lot I don't tell her. “He looked like he regretted it before he left. I doubt I'll be calling him if I ever get into trouble. That's probably the last we'll see of Gabe O'Connor.” I had to say that last part. Saying it aloud makes it seem more real, and I'm almost positive that I'm right about this.
“Maybe not,” she tries, sounding hopeful. After a moment, she says, “You go on a lot of first dates now that I think about it. Why don't you ever go on seconds?”
I keep my eyes on the clothes before me, knowing she's going to have something to say about this. “Because good girls don't fuck on the first date, Viv,” I throw her words back at her. “Lucky for them, and me if you think about it, I'm not one of those girls. If I want to sleep with them at the end of the night, I'm not going to hold out for a few more dates. And after that, they see me only for sex. Besides, you know I'm not really a dater anyway. Obviously.”
When I look up at Viv, her eyes are wide open. “You have sex on the first date? Always?” Oh, come on. She had to know this. We've been friends since freshman year. She hasn't figured this out yet? I figured I would get a lecture, but I guess she didn't know this fun fact about me.
“Almost always,” I correct. Is it really that big of a deal? It's only sex. “Ooh, look at this top.” I hold up a white, spaghetti-strapped shirt. It's a v-neck and a little airy, so it wouldn't be skin-tight. The material is super soft too. I have to buy it.
“It's cute. What would you wear it with?”
“A tight skirt of some sort.”
So we start looking for one of those. But Viv is back to Gabe.
“Has he texted you or anything?”
“Nope.”
“Well, how old is his brother?” She asks.
“He's sixteen, but he has an older one who is thirty-three.”
“And how old is he again?”
I narrow my eyes at her from across the rack. Where is she going with this? “Twenty-five.”
“Mhm,” she nods. “So you're closer in age to his little brother than him.”
Honestly, I hadn't thought of that. Does our age difference really matter? It's only six years, and I'm about to turn twenty next month. It's not a huge difference or anything. I'm sure my parents would expect me to date someone closer to my age, but it's my choice. Not theirs. They aren't dating him. I am. Finally, I say, “It doesn't matter either way. I really don't think I'll see him again. What did dumbass say when you broke up with him?” I change the subject because I'm tired of thinking about Gabe.
“He thinks I'm crazy for accusing him of cheating. When I pushed him about her car in the driveway, he wanted to know how I knew that, which means he admitted it. And he hasn't spoken to me since.”
“Perfect timing for a party with an excuse to get wasted.” I hold up the skirt I found. “What do you think?” It's a gold, sparkly mini-skirt, and it would look great paired with the shirt and the right shoes.
“Ooh, I love it. Might have to borrow that.”
I laugh. “Of course. Do you see anything in here you want or are you ready to hop to the next store?”
“Nah, let's check out and move on.”
Tonight's party is being hosted by the football team, so I've been trying to convince Viv that she could hook up with any of one of them. They're going to be looking to get laid tonight anyway. After the shitty boyfriend, she deserves some yummy football player to give her a good time. Viv says she's going to lay low for a while. I stop pestering her because if that's what she wants, then I'll leave her alone. Viv has more morals or higher standards, as some would say, than I do, and I will respect her wishes.
We shop all day, and I rack up some charges on the credit card my parents gave me. I'm sure I'll get a call at the end of the month about that bill. It never fails for them to say if I were a boy, I wouldn't waste so much money on clothes. Seriously, just get over it already! You got me. Stop complaining. Nineteen years worth should be enough for the rest of my life and theirs combined. Besides, they don't have to keep reminding me of how everything I do isn't good enough for them. Not to mention the clothes that I buy, they don't always approve of. It's too slutty and not very “ladylike.” Whatever.
Once I get home, I turn on my love song playlist and draw myself a bubble bath. It's not Sunday, but I'm in dire need of some relaxation. I may have to make a massage appointment next week. I've been so strung up lately. Probably because of the looming deadline my parents have on me for declaring my major.
The suds and hot water temporarily erase those problems. I soak for entirely too long, and I know that if I don't get out soon, my body will still be wrinkly when I get to the party. Prune-y won't get me laid. While I'm eating Ramen noodles, a guilty pleasure of mine, and watching the old TV show M*A*S*H, my father calls. I ignore it as usual. If I talk to him before the party, I'll be in no mood to have sex. My dad, most of all and despite my straight-A history, doesn't believe I'll graduate from college. He wants me to graduate, that is what is expected of me, but he doesn't think I'll be able to do so. He thinks that like everything else I've done, I'll quit.
Ugh. No. Stop it right there, Ryan. Tonight is party night. There is no time to think about what I'll do next to disappoint my parents. Although, that kind of makes me wish I had a sibling, like Gabe, and then my parents would focus all their attention on him. But they stopped trying to have a boy after I was born because my mother had two miscarriages. After that, they didn't want to go through that type of loss again. Which left them, their hopes, and their dreams stuck with me.
I wonder what it would have been like to have siblings. Does Gabe like them or wish he was an only child? Oh, great. Now, I'm thinking about Gabe. He's on my mind as I start getting ready, as I ride with Viv to the party, as I talk mindlessly with different people, and drinking a couple beers along the way. But then a football player spots me. I know his face and his number, 43, but I can't for the life of me remember his name. How is it that I can remember almost everything Gabe said last night, but I can't think of this guy's name and I've slept with him twice before?
“Hey, Ry,” he greets. Ah, yes. That's why. Because he insists on shortening my name.
“Ryan,” I correct. I may not always like my name, but it's mine, and I'm going to own it. “Hey.”
“You looked like you needed another drink.” He hands me a red cup, and I graciously take three swallows from it.
“Thanks.”
Bass from the speakers set up all over this place thrums through my body with the alcohol. 43 is looking at me with desire as he pulls me to him. He slips his beer-free hand underneath my shirt, his clammy hand touching my bare back. 43 leans down to whisper into my ear, some sloppy, not all that hot and dirty things to convince me to head upstairs with him. But the more he talks and lowers his hand over my ass, the more I get turned off. I was probably too drunk in the past to remember or care about these features.
“I'm not feeling all that great. I think I'm going to find Viv and get her to take me home.” I push him away with a little more force than I intended.
“I'll take you,” he offers.
I agree, only because I'm hoping that once I get away from all these people, I'll be in a better mood to fuck. That's what I really want tonight. But if not, then Mr. 43 is going to be very disappointed. He follows me
as I try to find Viv, but she's nowhere to be found.
“C'mon, Ry.”
“Ryan,” I insert.
“Let's go already. She'll figure it out.” He starts tugging me out of the house, his grip too tight for me to fight him on this. Him taking control is kind of turning me on anyway, so I let him.
Once we get back to my place though, I regret it. I haven't even unlocked my door yet because I don't want him to come inside. 43 has me pressed against my door, his slobbery kisses all over my neck before he starts heading towards my chest, where, thanks to my bra and new shirt, there is quite a bit of cleavage showing for him to touch.
“I'm not feeling well,” I repeat. “Thanks for the ride, but I'm going inside. Alone,” I add.
His lips move up the left side of my neck, so I turn my head to the right by instinct. His hands grip my waist tighter as he puts more of his body weight on me. “Ry,” he starts.
“Ryan.” Seriously? How many times do I have to correct him? “You don't need to try to change my mind. The answer will still be no.”
That makes him stop kissing me. His eyes turn dark as he stares at me, his hold stronger than ever. “No? You didn't hesitate before, Ry. Everyone on campus knows that you're an easy lay and now you're telling me no?”
“I may be easy, but I'm not that easy for you tonight.” I try to push him off me, but it's impossible. He's not budging. “Get off me.” I attempt to make my voice as level as possible, but even I hear how it trembles a little.
“Is there a problem?”
At the sound of his voice, my head snaps to the stairwell. 43 isn't paying him any mind yet. Gabe is standing rigid with his arms by his side, hands in fists, and he is not looking happy at all in his police uniform. His deadly stare is trained on 43. What is he even doing here?
You Before Me Page 4
