Crush Crush

Chapter Seven

When I woke up next, it was early. Even though had I woken up a few hours earlier, I felt like I just had the best night of sleep in my life. Ryder wasn't in the bed; I heard the distant sound of the shower and thought of joining him, but the delicious soreness of my body decided against it.

I put on the button-down shirt and went downstairs. I woke up a full hour earlier than I normally do, so that means I could make an actual breakfast. I got eggs and a full ham from the refrigerator. I searched the cabinets for a pan and nonstick spray. I started cooking a couple omelets, sprinkling them with cheese and a few spices I found in a cabinet.

I turned the heat on low and let the omelets stay warm on the stove while I sliced the ham. I hummed as I worked. I felt him before he even touched me. His entire presence washed over me, suffocating me in a cocoon of warmth. His hands stilled mine. "You and knives . . ." he sounded annoyed, but it was playful. I smiled and looked over my shoulder. He kissed me, squeezing my ass once before releasing me to start making coffee. He was freshly showered and fully dressed. I looked like a hobo compared to him.

I put a couple slices of ham onto two plates along with the two omelets. We sat at the breakfast bar, silently eating our meal. I kept giving him sideways glances as he read the morning paper. "Don't look at me like that, or you won't be going to school today."

"Hey, that doesn't sound half-bad." I grinned.

He shook his head. "Nice try."

I rolled my eyes. My hand snatched the newspaper and tossed it across the counter. He raised an eyebrow at me. "It's rude to read at the breakfast table, Ryder." I was mocking him. He knew I was mocking him. His eyes narrowed; amused, but still dark and undefinable.

He pulled my stool closer to his. His kiss was light and fleeting. "I love it when you say my name."

I laughed. "Did I not say it enough for you last night?"

His lips twitched. "No."

This time, the kiss was deep and unrelenting. He stood, wrapping his arm around me before settling me on the breakfast bar. My legs wrapped around him, holding his body against mine.

He moaned as my hand slipped inside his boxers, curling around his hard length. He pulled me tighter against him, but suddenly released me. "You're my little minx, you know that?" He stepped back. "I believe it's time for you to go get ready for school."

I resisted the urge to pout. "I thought you were tying me to your bed . . ."

His eyes darkened. "And I will. Later."

I slid off the counter, aware of how the shirt hiked up around my hips. His eyes watched my every movement. My finger drew a small circle on my thigh. His gaze snapped back up at me. "Don't, Isabel," he said in a warning tone.

"What?" I sighed innocently. "I'll just go get my things."

I slowly retreated to the bedroom. I heard Ryder trying to control his breathing as I sashayed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I grabbed my discarded dress and underwear from the floor, slipping on my panties and bra. I took the sweatpants from last night off the floor as well. The hem of the pant legs pooled at my feet. I folded my dress over my arm and exited the bedroom. I found Ryder standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me. I stopped on the last step.

Is this it? Is this the moment he kicks me out like all the other rejected club girls? My heart clenched at the thought.

I had pushed the thought that last night was just a casual screw from my mind while it was happening. I didn't want to think that he only wanted to sleep with me with every intention of kicking me out in the morning. There was something here, right? I wasn't imagining all the sparks that flew between us whenever we kissed or touched? He had to feel something, right?

He gazed at me, hands in his pocket. I waited for him to say something. I waited for a full minute, but he didn't move his eyes from mine. I blinked first. "Well, I guess I better go," I said in a soft voice.

He nodded.

I stepped around him. He followed me to the door. When I reached for the handle, he stopped me, pulling me against his chest and kissing me one last time. When we pulled away, he kissed the corner of my mouth, my cheek, my ear.

He brushed a piece of hair away from my face. "What do you want for dinner?"

I smiled, relief flooding through me. "Just you," I whispered, pecking him on the lips once more before opening the front door and stepping out into the sunrise.

. . .

I floated through my morning classes. By lunch, Chloe was fed up. "Jesus. Did you finally get laid or something?"

I blinked at my best friend. "Shh!"

Chloe's mouth dropped open. "OH MY GOD! YOU DID, YOU LITTLE SLUT!"

I clamped my hands over her mouth before the entire student body heard her. "Shut up, will you?!"

"I want details, now. You've been holding out on me all day. I need a juicy story to sink my teeth into."

I told her what happened, minus the actual gory details she wanted.

"Three times? How are you still walking?"

I laughed.

"Better than B-boy?"

I spaced my hands a foot apart, winking at her. "Much better."

We laughed until the lunch bell rang and it was time to return to class.

. . .

I returned home before Ryder. His car wasn't in his driveway. I used the free time for myself, cleaning my room and getting some homework done. When I heard the doorbell ring, I smiled to myself. Now he rings the doorbell? I sprinted down the stairs and swung the door open.

The front porch was completely empty minus one thing—another basket.

This time, there was a Barbie with crudely-painted brown hair, near the same color as mine, her legs spread open at an odd angle, like someone dislocated her doll joints. Dots of red paint splattered her entire body, pooling between her legs. Another blown-up photo of me was set in the basket—this one from the cheer squad my freshman year. Written in angry red letters was the word "WHORE," underlined several times. The basket was covered with dead rose petals and another brown bag of dog shit.

My hand covered my open mouth, the block letters dancing in my vision. Did someone hear Chloe at lunch? Did they hear me talk about Ryder?

Then, there was something that almost went unnoticed by me. A sign hanging from the mutilated Barbie's neck. Written in fine ink, two words: He's Mine.

I fell to my knees, staring at the horrific, twisted present, all the while thinking, What have I done to deserve this?