Rejected? Whatever. (UNDER MAJOR CONSTRUCTION)

Chapter 17

After my mother left my room, I flopped back on my (Ryder’s) bed. 

I’m so freaking sick of crying! Before I came back, I never cried and now I’m crying like a hormonal pregnant woman!

Wait! Never mind. I’m not pregnant.

I can feel myself turning back into Mikayla and it’s killing me. 

Thank god for Netflix. When I need to get my mind off of something, Netflix is always there for me. Even when Logan was being a butt to me, Netflix cheered me up.

“That’s it. Netflix, you are my new boyfriend. I’m going to call you Net.” I hugged Ryder’s Wii. Ok, I’m officially going insane. 

I scrolled through the shows and clicked Supernatural.

*

Nine hours later...

“DEAN!” I screamed at the screen. “DON’T GIVE YOUR SOUL FOR SAM!”

The door bursted open drawing my attention away from the Cross Road Demon.

“What’s wrong!” bellowed and huffing and puffing Ryder with a towel on his waist and nothing else.

It’s kind of cute how worried he gets and those abs...

Wait. Arms. Scars. I’m pissed at him!

“Get. Out!” I growled.

He looked at the TV and it must have clicked that I was yelling at the screen.

Ryder breathed a sigh of relief. Plopping down onto the bed next to me, he pushed his wet hair back.

“You scared the shit out of me.” His voice was soft.

“Get. Out.” I repeated. 

“Never yell like that again. I thought you were in trouble.” 

“You are getting the bed wet. It’s rude.” I deadpanned.

“I love you.” 

“I hate you.” I shot back. “But I like your abs.” I mumbled.

By Ryder’s smirk, I could tell he heard me. Crap.

“You can touch em if you want.” He challenged.

Well, that’s one challenge I’m not going to take. 

I snorted . “In your dreams.” 

“Every damn night sweetheart.”

Ugh! He won this round. Not that I’d ever admit that.

“You can leave now. Y’know clothes aren’t that bad.” I waved him away wanting to get back to my show.

“You like me better this way.” He flirted.

I sighed and reluctantly turned off the Wii. “Ryder, you can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

He bit his lip nervously.

“I didn’t mean it.” He whispered, vulnerable.

“We’re not having this conversation until you are full clothed.” Dang, his abs are distracting.

Ryder stood up and walked over to the closet. He dropped his towel. 

“Ryder!” I squeaked and embarrassingly hit my face in a pillow. 

“What?” I heard the fake innocence in his voice. “You’re my mate. All this is yours.” He was probably gesturing to his yummy body.

“Are you fully clothed?” I ignored his last statement.