It Ends With Us

He drops his forehead to mine and says, “Because. I have no idea what I’m doing. You make me want to be a different person, but what if I don’t know how to be what you need? This is all new to me and I want to prove to you that I want you for so much more than just one night.”

He looks so vulnerable right now. I want to believe the genuine look in his eye, but he’s been so adamant since the day that I met him that he wants the exact opposite of what I want. And it terrifies me that I’ll give in to him and he’ll walk away.

“How do I prove myself to you, Lily? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

I don’t know. I barely know the guy. I know him enough to know that sex with him won’t be enough for me, though. But how do I know sex won’t be the only thing he wants?

My eyes instantly lock with his. “Don’t have sex with me.”

He stares at me for a moment, completely unreadable. But then he starts to nod his head like he’s finally getting it. “Okay,” he says, still nodding. “Okay. I will not have sex with you, Lily Bloom.”

He walks around me to his bedroom door and he locks it. He flips off the light, leaving only a lamp on, and then takes off his shirt as he walks toward me.

“What are you doing?”

He tosses his shirt on a chair and then slips off his shoes. “We’re going to sleep.”

I glance at his bed. Then at him. “Right now?”

He nods and walks over to me. In one swift movement, he lifts my dress up and over my head, until I’m standing in the middle of his bedroom floor in my bra and panties. I cover myself, but he doesn’t even look twice. He pulls me toward the bed and lifts the covers for me to crawl in. As he’s walking over to his side of the bed he says, “It’s not like we haven’t slept together before without having sex. Piece of cake.”

I laugh. He reaches his dresser and plugs his phone in to a charger. I take a moment to skim his bedroom. This certainly isn’t the type of spare bedroom I’m used to. Three of my bedrooms could fit in here. There’s a couch against the other wall, a chair facing a television and a full office off the bedroom that looks complete with a floor-to-ceiling library. I’m still trying to see everything around me when the lamp goes off.

“Your sister is really rich,” I say as I feel him pull the covers over both of us. “What the hell does she do with the ten bucks an hour I pay her? Wipe her ass with it?”

He laughs and grabs my hand, sliding his fingers through mine. “She probably doesn’t even cash the checks,” he says. “Have you ever checked?”

I haven’t. Now I’m curious.

“Goodnight, Lily,” he says.

I can’t stop smiling, because this is kind of ridiculous.

And so great.

“Goodnight, Ryle.”

? ? ?

I think I might be lost.

Everything is so white and so clean, it’s blinding. I shuffle through one of the living rooms and try to find my way to the kitchen. I have no idea where my dress ended up last night, so I pulled on one of Ryle’s shirts. It falls past my knees, and I wonder if he has to buy shirts that are too big for him just so they’ll fit his arms.

There are too many windows and way too much sun, so I’m forced to shield my eyes as I go in search of coffee.

I push through the kitchen doors and find a coffeemaker.

Thank you, Jesus.

I set it to brew and then go in search for a mug when the kitchen door opens behind me. I spin around and I’m relieved to see that Allysa isn’t always a perfect concoction of makeup and jewelry. Her hair is in a messy topknot and mascara is smeared down her cheeks. She points at the coffeemaker. “I’m gonna need me some of that,” she says. She pulls herself up on the island and then slouches forward.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say.

She barely has the energy to nod.

I wave my hand around the kitchen. “How did this happen? How in the hell did your entire house become spotless between the party last night and me waking up just now? Did you stay up and clean?”

She laughs. “We have people for that,” she says.

“People?”

She nods. “Yep. There are people for everything,” she says. “You’d be surprised. Think of something. Anything. We probably have people for it.”

“Groceries?”

“People,” she says.

“Christmas décor?”

She nods. “People for that, too.”

“What about birthday gifts? Like for family members?”

She grins. “Yep. People. Everyone in my family receives a gift and a card for every occasion and I never have to lift a finger.”

I shake my head. “Wow. How long have you been this rich?”

“Three years,” she says. “Marshall sold a few apps he developed to Apple for a lot of money. Every six months, he creates updates and sells those, too.”

The coffee transitions into a slow drip, so I grab a mug and fill it up. “You want anything in yours?” I ask. “Or do you have people for that?”

She laughs. “Yes. I have you, and I’d like sugar, please.” I stir some sugar into her cup and walk it over to her, then pour myself a cup. It grows quiet for a while as I mix in creamer, waiting for her to say something about me and Ryle. The conversation is inevitable.

“Can we just get the awkwardness out of the way?” she says.