Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
I dial it down a notch.
“Apartment 106.”
I remember. I walk us to her door, barely breathing hard despite having a grown woman in my arms.
“Jesus.” Ryann exhales. “You did that like it was no big deal.”
Please. I can bench-press hundreds of pounds.
I wait for a key to materialize. When it doesn’t, I stare down at her damp face. Raise my brows expectantly.
“Can you please put me down? My legs work fine.”
I put her down.
Not because I want to, but because she told me to.
Ryann digs in the fanny pack I’m still holding, holding up her key when she finds it, victorious.
“Ha!”
And just like that she’s inside, turning to face me, taking the things from my arms, both of us still soaking.
I shiver. Try to stuff my hands in my pockets but fail; my pants are waterlogged, the pockets impossible to penetrate.
Ryann sighs. “I suppose you could come in if you wanted to.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
twenty-three
ryann
“Sometimes dating a mature guy is stressful. They apologize right away…and then what are you supposed to do with your anger?”
– Dr. Laura Winters
Great.
I’ve invited the beast into my apartment yet again, his entire form making my space feel twenty times smaller than it actually is.
“Do you have anything I can change into?”
Is he being serious right now? “Um, no.”
“Do you have a robe?”
“Yes, I have two.” I hesitate. “But they’re pink.”
“So?”
Shrugging, I point toward the little laundry room off the kitchen. “One is hanging on a hook behind that door. I’m going to go peel myself out of these wet clothes if I can and check to see if my ass is bruised.”
“I want to see it if it is,” he says, sounding solemn. “For medical purposes, of course.”
“Of course.” I glance at him over my shoulder, walking toward my bedroom. “Feel free to, you know—use the bathroom and change or whatever.”
I feel so awkward about this even though he’s been in my apartment before. But this time, it’s post make-out session and post half-nude truth or dare and post ‘he almost went down on me.’ More intimate.
More tense.
On my end at least. I’m not sure how Dallas feels about it.
twenty-four
dallas
“I don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have a girl who’d be pissed at me for saying that.”
– Dallas
I feel great.
This robe is the bomb diggity.
Never actually worn a robe before, and this one happens to be pink and furry as fuck, and it fits.
Mostly.
I mean, most of my legs are showing and it doesn’t cover up my lower half, but I’m dry and toasty and hunkered down on the couch when Ryann emerges from her bedroom looking very much the same as I do: snuggly and warm.
In addition to her robe, I’ve commandeered a few blankets, wrapping those around my legs, which I’ve stretched out in front of me and have propped up on the little coffee table she’s got arranged in front of the couch.
I give my toes a wiggle.
Lace my hands behind my head.
“Making yourself comfortable, I see.” Ryann saunters farther into the room, padding toward the kitchen with pink socks on her feet. Opens the fridge and peers inside. “What are you hungry for? Must have been a while since you’ve eaten.”
It has been hours since I’ve eaten solid food. “What have you got?”
I watch as she tilts her head. “Not much. Random stuff—salad? Leftover burger from work. Um, I have a frozen pizza.”
None of that sounds tempting.
I grab my phone off the couch and thumb through to the food delivery app. “Let’s order somethin’ then so neither of us has to worry about it.”
Ryann comes around the counter and sinks down onto the couch beside me, arm on the back cushion. I can see thermal pants sticking out of the bottom of her cozy-looking robe and a thermal button-down peeking out of the neckline.
Cute.
Conservative.
Casual.
Exactly the kind of girl Eli wanted me to align myself with, and I gone and done it.
Pleased with myself, I order a shit ton of food, needing pasta and carbs and protein and some other random shit, my stomach beginning to give that telltale sign that in no time it’s gonna start growling at me the same way I growl on the playing field.
Ryann fluffs her area, nesting, getting more comfortable and grabbing the remote. Props her feet on the coffee table next to mine.
I nudge her fuzzy socks with my big toe.
“Are you flirting with me?”
Am I?
Maybe.
Instead of replying, I do it again because I’m a guy, I’m immature, and despite the fact that I just played four quarters in a football game, I’m slightly bored.
The clock ticks.
Ryann is still flipping through the programs. Everything she’s stopping on to preview is a chick flick, a reality dating show, a high-end real estate reality show, or a baking show.
Dammit.
It’s finally dark outside, and from the looks of it, the rain is still coming down hard. I’m grateful for the quiet, companionable silence Ryann is offering me, because the last time I messaged my brothers, sounded like they did indeed have company.