Mending Ryan Falls ✓

20 | in which she plays truth and dare

Hold on to me, darling.
And let me be your anchor.

.\.|./.

Crystal Monroe

|in which she plays truth or dare|

When this man said 'somewhere only we exist', the first thing that came to my mind was somewhere romantic and recluse.

Definitely not a grocery store.

I stand back while the cashier scans all the items Ryan kept stacking in the shopping cart that he also insisted to push -- despite my retorts. He looks completely at ease, though I do see him shifting on his bad leg. The only thing that makes him look creepy is the scar running across his eyebrow and disappearing under his bangs.

Not that it makes him look any less handsome, as every single girl in the store seems to notice.

The fact that he has so many girls literally drooling over his looks is pretty annoying, mostly because they seem to be shooting me venomous glares I don't fully understand.

"Let's go, beautiful," he says to me, too loud for my liking.

I scowl at his pretty face as he grabs the ginormous bags of whatever the hell he's bought and begins to walk towards the rotating double-doors. I reach out to take one of the bags from him, which he shakes off as nothing, awakening my inner feminist.

"I'm not the one with broken bones, you know," I snap, folding my arms when he stops next to his bike.

He ignores my retort, frowning at the bike instead. He probably didn't consider how we would be taking all the shit he got back to his house. The bags are nearly as big as I am, and I'm nowhere near small.

"Maybe we can rent a cab," I suggest.

Instead of agreeing with my brilliant idea, he simply smiles.

"Doubt me not, m'lady." He tips an imaginary hat. "I have it all under control."

And with that, he places the shopping bags against the speed-bike-of-death he owns, and walks back towards the store. I stand by and stare, not knowing how the man can be so damn cheerful all the time.

With Jeremy, things were always hard. Not always-always, but after-our-first-year-always. The Jeremy with hopes and dreams was cocky and bright, but the Jeremy who lost his big race and college scholarship, felt humiliated in front of the entire school because he slipped and fell two feet from the finish line, and lost his chance of a lifetime, was never the same. He was dark, brooding, and cold, and -- somehow -- I was to blame.

At first, I questioned it. How was it my fault he tripped? How was anything my fault at all? Jeremy, though, always found a way to blame me for whatever went wrong, glaring daggers and bringing me down. I thought it would pass, the unjustified anger, and that he was only looking for someone to share his burden. I provided my shoulders and lost myself to his hate. Hate I didn't deserve. Hate no one deserved.

"Problem solved!"

The upbeat sound behind me makes me turn around and look at Ryan, the guy pushing a shopping cart towards me.

"Did you steal that?" I ask him without thinking, as he begins to stack the groceries in the cart and chain it to the back of the bike.

"No. I bought it."

I stare, wondering why I'm even surprised anymore. If the man was crazy with half his body broken, it seems as no surprise about the level of insanity he has excelled to now.

"You can close your mouth now, love," he says, flashing me a smile as he jumps onto the bike and holds the helmet out for me.

"Are you actually serious?" I ask, glancing once at the pseudo compartment he has made and tied to his bike, and then back at him. "We're going to be driving with that thing tied behind us like that?"