“A little. You’ve been in a good mood lately.”
We were sitting on my bed; it was the Monday after my psychic shake-up. I hadn’t told him. Hadn’t told anyone. I hadn’t slept much and hadn’t been able to overcome the feeling I was running a sprint while others faced a marathon. But at least I was back in the race. After the numbness of the hospital, I finally felt things again. I’d reclaimed what remained of my life and began to make decisions about how to spend it.
“I just decided it was time to do some things I want. Right now, I want you.” I pulled him back on the pillows with me. One thing I’d decided: I wasn’t going to die a virgin.
“You’re feeling okay? You’re up for it?” Ryan asked in quick words as I reached for his belt. His breath was hot against my neck as I nodded and unfastened the buckle. “And your parents?”
“At a party for my mom’s company. They won’t be home till late.” They rarely let me out of their sight, and I wasn’t going to waste this chance. But he was moving slowly, feathering kisses along my neck. I pulled my sweater over my head. “Do you have …?”
“Yeah, of course.” He removed the condom from his wallet and tucked it half in the front pocket of my jeans while unbuttoning them. Mirroring my grin, he pulled my lips back to his. I slid my hands over the warm skin of his back beneath the blue-and-yellow stripes of his rugby shirt. I wanted to bottle the feel of this moment and label it “life.”
Ryan’s hands had just traveled from my face to the clasp of my bra when Jinx decided to live up to her name. She jumped from the desk to the bed.
We rolled apart, laughing. “I didn’t even realize the cat was in here,” Ryan said.
“Me either.” I scooped her up. “I’ll be right back—I’m going to open a can of food to keep her preoccupied—ninety seconds.”
He smiled enticingly from my pillow, face flushed, hair disheveled. “One, two, three …”
I resisted the urge to shove the cat in the hall and crash back against Ryan. My bare skin prickled with goose bumps, but Ryan would warm me up soon enough. I put Jinx down in the kitchen, humming as I grabbed cat food out of the cabinet. She did her best to trip me, twining through my legs as I carried the can to the electric opener.
The motor whirred, the can spun, I turned to grab Jinx’s bowl. And screamed. The front door was opening.
I dropped the can. It landed on my toe and I yelped as wet chunks sprayed the floor and lower cabinets.
“Mia?” “Mi?” Both boys said my name simultaneously. Ryan from where he was tearing down the stairs in a panic, buttoning his jeans as he ran. Gyver from the kitchen floor; he’d knelt to take the sharp-edged can away from Jinx and dump the remaining contents in her bowl.
Ryan reached me, arms outstretched. “What’s wrong, baby? You okay?” My heart was still in my throat, blocking explanation. He turned from me with wide eyes, which darkened when he saw Gyver. Ryan stepped in front of me and tugged off his shirt.
The motion broke my panic trance. I zipped my jeans and shoved the all-but-fallen condom deep in the pocket. Tugging Ryan’s shirt over my head, I fought the urge to hide my blushing face against his back.
Gyver was calm. I wanted to go over and shake him. He had barely looked at me, barely spoken to me since that afternoon in my living room. How could he show up now? And how could he be so composed?
He took a rag from the sink and wiped up the spilled cat food. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Mom wanted me to invite you for dinner. I knocked. The door was unlocked. I didn’t realize you were … busy.”
I looked between Gyver’s patient cleaning and Ryan’s restless energy. The muscles in his bare back tensed all the way down to his fists. “You’re okay?” he asked, taking deep breaths.
“Mostly. I dropped the can on my toe.” I forced my voice into a laugh. Ryan’s reaction made sense. Gyver? I prepared for his judgment.
But he didn’t seem upset. He finished wiping the floor, hung the rag on the sink, scratched Jinx, then headed for the door. A week ago he’d confessed to feeling something for me. But maybe it was felt now: past tense. Over.
“I’ll tell Mom you’ve got other plans. If you’re hungry later, stop over. She made lasagna and there’s plenty. Mi—tell Ryan how good it is.” I could hear him whistling through the closed door, the tune growing fainter as he walked to his house.
Ryan slid his hand down my arm and clasped mine. He tried to laugh. “Well … that was longer than ninety seconds.”
“Sorry for giving you a heart attack.”
“Let’s lock the door.”
I grumbled as we headed back into my room. “My jeans reek of cat food.”
“I know how to fix that.” His eyes were smiling again as he unbuttoned, unzipped, and tugged them off. “Let’s see that toe.” Kneeling beside the bed, he picked up my foot, caressed a hand up the back of my calf, and brushed his lips across the inside of my knee. “Does it still hurt?”
“No.” I beckoned him to me.