Handcuffs, Kisses and Awkward Situations (PUBLISHED, SAMPLE)

Chapter [13]

            "How long was I out for?" he asked, voice slow and sleepy. His words were pronounced with a deep huskiness which was unquestioningly attractive. But then again, all guys' sleepy voice was unbelievably addictive.

            "A few hours," I replied, returning my gaze back at the sky.

            Ryder didn't really seem interested in my reply. He regarded my response with a smack to his stomach. "I'm starving."

            I hadn't realised I was hungry as well until he mentioned it. So together, we went back inside in a hunt for food. Ryder walked towards the fridge and opened the door, popping his head inside and searched around.

            "I don't see anything to eat," he groaned.

            I peeked over his shoulder. "There's plenty to eat," I said, eyes widening at the variety of foods.

            "Yeah, but nothing I want to eat," Ryder complained as he straightened and slammed the door closed, the sound of glass bottles clinking from the impact.

            He walked over towards the cupboards next and pulled out a bag. "Now we're talking. I know exactly what to have for dinner."

            I never expected to have s'mores for an evening meal. I had always pictured myself surrounded by friends as we circled around a fire, telling ghost stories as we roasted marshmallows. But never would I have thought I'd be surrounded in a little glass room, sitting on a pile of cushions as I hunched over Ryder's fireplace.

            I stuck my long fork into the flickering flames of the fire and watched as the marshmallow slowly turned from a spongy ball into a toasted hot mess. Scraping the sticky remains of the 'mallow onto a cracker and topping it off with a piece of chocolate, I shoved half of it into my mouth.

            "Slow down, yeah?" Ryder said, raising an eyebrow at me.

            Feeling slightly embarrassed, I snapped, "Shut up."

            Ryder just shook his head, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile. I slowed down my eating after that and went through another three s'mores without Ryder making any comments about my rude eating habits. Resting my head back against the couch, I looked up through the glass and to the sky. Smoke from the chimney rose up to the heavens, curling around in grey tendrils before disappearing high up into the scattered clusters of stars.

            I don't know how long I stared up at the evening sky for, but when I returned my gaze back down, I caught Ryder studying me. He wasn't checking me out or anything and his expression showed nothing of interest. He seemed slightly confused as he tried to figure something out, searching my face for something. His tinted blue eyes scanned my face and his eyebrows knitted together as he concentrated further.

            "What?" I said, being the first to look away as I reached over and cupped my mug of hot chocolate in my hands.

            "I just don't understand anymore, Nora," he answered.

            "About what?" I questioned, looking down at the rich chocolate pool of goodness before taking a sip. The warm liquid ran through my entire body.

            "Lots of things," Ryder replied, eyes narrowing at me as he thought. "You, me, us..." He paused for a moment, then quickly added, "Just stuff. Okay? Stuff. Lots of stuff."

            It had been a really long day. A really long and confusing day and it was comforting to know that Ryder was just as muddled as I was. Or did it just make it a whole lot complicated? If he was just as uncertain as I was about what had happened earlier in the day, was there a stronger possibility that he had considered that we experienced some sort of sparked connection?

            Oh, God.

            As if we were both thinking about the same thing, we exchanged looks and quickly looked away from each other, cringing. "Look, Nora, what happened in the change rooms... It meant nothing, okay?" he said, as he looked away and seemed to think.

            "Um, gross. Why would I think it would mean anything?" I quickly replied, flippantly tossing my hand in his direction for emphasis. I added a little snort just in case I didn't prove my point.

            "Good," he answered, frowning as he let out one of his famous grunts. Grunts that apparently translated into English, considering it was how most guys communicated with each other.

            "Yeah. Good."

            We kind of just sat there in silence for a few minutes, the whole topic being dropped. Although the conversation had been dismissed, I still thought about it. It meant nothing to me. I knew that. It was just a stupid little incident. Then why couldn't I stop thinking about it?