Mending Ryan Falls ✓

20 | in which she plays truth and dare

Ryan smiles, looking like he's about to laugh.

"What's so funny?" I snap.

Ryan straightens his expression. "You seem more like yourself when you're annoyed."

I blink. "I'm always myself," I counter.

"Yeah." He nods. "But your natural version is so much better than the version you show the world."

Unable to understand how this man can say the most blunt things with such a balanced expression, I simply stare at him. My stare transforms into a scowl, and I snatch the helmet from his hands and put it on.

"Fine. If we die, it's on you." I jump on the bike behind him, nearly falling over like last time. He doesn't even blink, sitting still so that I take hold of his jacket on either side.

"Don't you worry now," Ryan says, hitting the gas so that the bike whirrs to life. "I won't let you fall."

The dragon we're riding roars when Ryan swerves it out of the parking lot, and I automatically glance behind me to see the cart jumping around in our wake.

What an out-of-the-box solution.

As Ryan drives full speed through the city traffic, zooming between cars and through alleys. The clouds seem to chase us, hanging thick and low, but Ryan is not one to lose from the grey monsters, fighting the battle till the end. We make it to our houses just as the sky begins to roar, angry that Ryan has defeated it in his race against nature. 

I'm almost afraid the cart would have gotten lost halfway through our run, but am surprised to see it intact. Ryan smiles, proud of his idea having worked this well. It did work pretty well.

"Well, are you unlocking your door or do I have to find a way around that too?" he asks, unloading the metal cart and carrying the bags in his arms.

I frown in confusion, but he tilts his head towards my house.

"Aren't those yours?" I remind him, wondering if he lost his mind on the way somewhere.

"Yeah, but you're the one who cooks for me so you should keep them," he says. "I picked out all my favorite things, so you'll have no trouble figuring out what to make."

I'm still lost for words when Ryan shifts all the bags into one arm, reaching out his free hand towards me. I see him shifting on his bad leg and don't want to keep him standing here with this weight, so I give him my keys. My mind is already deciding how I'm going to talk Ryan out of this now.

He unlocks my door and stands aside, letting me take the lead into the dark house. Switching on the lights on my way, I lead Ryan into the kitchen, where he places everything on my shelves. Once he's done, he turns to scan the surroundings.

"Nice place," is his comment.

I roll my eyes, knowing what a liar he is. My house is an utter mess, awaiting dozens of repairs and a white-wash. It's been a while since I had any maintenance done, mostly because Jeremy never stays long enough to notice what our house looks like.

If he even considers it his house anymore.

"So, what are you cooking tonight?" Ryan asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"What would you like to eat?" I ask, still overwhelmed by the thoughts of Jeremy.

Ryan's eyes flicker lower, but I don't notice what part of me he glances at before his gaze returns to mine.

"Anything you make is fine by me," he finally says.

I fold my arms across my chest, standing in the kitchen doorway as he leans back against my shelves and smiles at me.