“Oh my God. That’s so cute,” she says before I can get too much distance between us. When I turn around to look at her, she’s laughing at me and says, “You think he loves you? Ryan doesn’t know what that is. Trust me, I’ve been with him enough times to know that.”
I feel sick and fire rushes through my veins, and if I wasn’t so small compared to her, I’d slap the shit out of her. I set the beers on the counter and turn around. Walking through the living room, I pass Ryan and snap at him, “Take me home,” and then make my way outside. My hands are shaking as a multitude of emotions runs through me: jealousy, anger, embarrassment.
“Candace,” Ryan says as he rushes behind me.
I turn around, angry, and shout at him, “Did you sleep with that girl in there? Gina?”
He lets out a deep breath, and I shake my head and say, “Forget it. Just take me home.”
I open the door before he can open it for me and hop up onto the seat. It’s one thing for me to hear about his past, but to have his past right there in my face, taunting me, is more than I can handle.
When we start driving, Ryan finally speaks up. “I didn’t know she was going to be there. When I saw her, I didn’t want to say anything to draw attention.”
I don’t respond. I’m too upset to respond, so I pull my knee up to my chest and shift my body toward the door, leaning the side of my head against the cold leather seat and stare out the window. I want to cry because I’m embarrassed and hurt, but I don’t.
“Candace, say something.”
I don’t.
To be honest, I’m upset with that girl, not Ryan. I know Ryan has been nothing but open with me, so I can’t fault him for that. But, it doesn’t make it any easier. I wonder if everyone in that house thought I was just another girl like Gina. I hate that thought.
When he pulls into his driveway, I softly say without moving, eyes still looking out the window, “Ryan, I really just want to go home.”
He doesn’t say anything when he gets out of the car and walks around to my side. Opening the door, he takes my hand and helps me out. I don’t protest because I’m too tired to argue with him. We walk inside, and he takes me upstairs to his room.
I stand in the doorway as he walks over to his dresser and starts pulling out clothes.
“Ryan, what are you doing?”
“You’re not going home. Here,” he says as he hands me a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt.
I stand there for a moment and watch him as he begins to undress, then I turn to go to his bathroom and change myself. Realizing I don’t have my pills, I call out for Ryan to bring me my purse.
When he knocks on the door, I open it and thank him when he hands it to me. I quickly brush my teeth, and when I walk out, the lights are off, and Ryan is already in bed. He didn’t pull the drapes shut, and the moon casts a muted light through the room.
When I slide under the covers, Ryan instinctively pulls me in, facing him.
“Talk to me,” he says with a soft voice.
“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just . . . I don’t like feeling the way she made me feel. It’s embarrassing.”
“She was nothing to me.”
“When did you . . . I mean . . . How long ago?”
“August or so.”
I sigh and close my eyes, not wanting to talk about this or think about this anymore.
Brushing my hair back with his hands, he tells me, “They were only there to distract me, but when I saw you, you faded everything I needed distracting from.”
Opening my eyes, I look up at him and ask, “Did you love any of them?”
“No.”
Hesitantly, “Do you love me?”
“I’ve only ever loved you.”
He rolls on top of me, staring down into my eyes. I pull him down, and I kiss him with an intensity I haven’t felt before. Crushing his lips with mine, tasting each other, and feeling each other, I grab his hair, keeping him close to me. He trails his hand down the center of my sternum, between my breasts, over my stomach, and when he reaches the hem of my shirt, I feel the heat of his hand as he slides it up, making my body shudder beneath his. When he cups me in his hand and squeezes, my body bows up to him, and he lets out a deep moan.
“God, I want you,” he whispers.
Sitting back on his heels, he pulls me up to him. He reaches down and slowly begins lifting up my top. Raising my arms up, he peels the cloth off of me and tosses it on the floor. He takes his hands and slides them down my sides. “Babe . . .”
He lays me back down and grazes his lips down my neck and over the thin lace of my bra. I hold tightly onto the sides of his head when he covers my nipple with his mouth and drags his tongue across the fabric. I begin to feel the anxiety build inside my stomach. I can’t do this.