ryland's pov
"i'll have a pack of malboro lights, please." i grumbled at the gas station worker, who looked about fifty and as though he would rather be doing anything else than standing behind the counter i leant on. the crisp grey sleeves of my suit jacket picked up the slight layer of dust over the surface, and i hesitantly retracted my posture before handing over a twenty dollar bill. not a word was exchanged between either of us after that, with my change being roughly passed into my hand and a swift nod of gratitude echoing through the store.
waking up on the wrong side of the bed is often a term of phrase used in a sarcastic and demeaning manner, a metaphor that jars it's target into a defensive rhetoric. yet this morning, it could not of been more truthful. at just past eight o'clock, i was awoken by a complete stranger knocking on my door trying to sell some kind of religious magazine subscription, and by the time i'd mumbled my disinterest and headed into the kitchen, i realised that conor was not in the kitchen, hungover with a coffee in his hand, as i'd expected. in just a pair of sweatpants i swiftly poked my head around each door, anger building up inside my chest as i realised that his side of the bed was still completely cold when i woke up this morning.
he didn't even come home. staying out till the early hours of the morning after promising it was 'just one drink' was bad enough, but not even sending a text or stumbling in drunk at a ridiculous time? irritation ran deep through me as i shook away any sense of rationale, realising that i could've gotten away with staying out even longer last night and conor wouldn't have had any idea.
i had three missed calls from shane once i'd stepped out the shower, my hair slicked back and wet as i pressed my ear to the receiver and listened to the thrum of the familiar dialling tones as his voicemail played.
"hi princess." my stomach surged as the audio clip began to play, his morning voice thick and slightly croaky, as though he'd just opened his eyes. i tried not to imagine him laying shirtless in bed speaking into his phone. "i need you to do me a massive favour. i know, another one, i'm clearly pushing it seeing as you saved my ass yesterday. but i've run out of cigarettes and i'm running late, can you grab some on your way over? call me back."
not having the patience to deal with his flirtatious begging when i already had one hungover man doing my head in, i'd thrown my phone onto the bed and towel dried my hair, got ready to leave and resisted calling him back as i went. that left me walking out the run down gas station with several dozen thoughts whirring in my mind, not even a second spared for the fact that just the sound of his voice had sent the muscles in my abdomen crazy.
with the roads being nearly empty, i pulled up outside the tall white building just a quarter of an hour later, adjusting my light pink button up shirt as i walked through the hallway.
"could you pass these on to mr dawson, please?" a young boy, looking only about seventeen, asked in a quiet voice as i approached our office door. his arms looked like they were about to buckle under the weight of the stack of papers, but despite my hands being occupied with cigarette packets and phones, i tucked the pile underneath and kicked the door open with my foot.
"do you come bearing gifts?" shane drawled with a smile on his face. his feet were kicked up on the desk, one crossed over the other, as he scrolled through his emails on his laptop. despite a witty comment sitting on my tongue i threw the packet of marlboro lights in his direction and resisted the urge to laugh when it smacked him directly in the forehead.
"you owe me twenty dollars." i retorted and lugged the filed documents over to him. the palm of his hand reached out to touch the outer side of my thigh and i felt my breath hitch in the back of my throat.
"and you owe me a drink for not convincing you to stay last night."
despite the butterflies this sent surging through me, i found myself taking a few steps back and opting for an innocent smile, his fingertips left grappled air rather than the smooth material of my suit. as i did so his expression faltered slightly, but this was masked by a cigarette being jammed between his lips. in a slightly muffled voice he told me he'd be back in five, and i watched the back of his crisp white shirt disappear out the fire exit door.
stop it, i thought to myself as i realised that the same hands he was using to smoke had been desperate to travel under my shirt the night before. regardless of my body aching for any form of human touch and affection, i couldn't fall into the trap of lust when i had such a perfectly gorgeous fiancé and daughter at home.
except, he wasn't at home. conor was god knows where after not even returning home last night, undoubtedly nursing a hangover on a friend's couch, or even worse, in somebody's bed. i screwed my eyes up and shook the thought away, opening the lid to my laptop. the harsh brightness of the screen made me squint and tilt my head away, feeling tears prickle against my eyelashes at the uncertainty that returning home would hold. i knew that conor's parents would be dropping madison back once i'd finished work, clearly none the wiser that their son had been playing hooky from his role as a father, but other than that i was clueless as to whether i'd be setting the table for two or three.
my gaze wandered to where the purple bruise on my wrist had once been, now a healed layer of skin that almost murmured how temporary bad times with him were. i knew deep down that i loved him, and that i would spend the rest of my life with him, but shane. what was it about him that sent my conscience off track? part of me understood that i would never figure it out.
"ryland."
my reverie was shattered by the word and i looked to the door to see shane stood in the doorway looking rather uncomfortable, and slightly irritated, fumbling with the lighter in his hands.
"i need to talk to you about something." he shut the door behind him and sat down in his leather chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose slightly. "your— um... the investigation on cave records has been reopened, and they're asking for witnesses and more victims to come forward."
i felt myself pale, the room growing tighter and smaller with the wallpaper itching my skin and the lighting structure above my head crashing down on my shoulders as the weight of all i had enabled crushed me.
"no. i'm not doing it." i blurted, shaking my head furiously. shane sighed and approached my desk tentatively, sitting on the edge so there was little space between us.
"they're going to close the case due to lack of evidence, but if you spoke about how he groped you that night, and how he didn't allow anyone to be in the recording studio but him and the artists. it could change things."
panic started seeping through my bones. the thought of having to stand up in front of a jury, or even just write a witness statement, and discuss something that i unwillingly allowed to happen made me sick to my stomach.
"no. i don't want this being brought up again. that happened in the past, i'm trying to move on and speaking repeatedly about how he grabbed my arse when he was a little too drunk doesn't—"
"how can you move on from the past if you're still stuck in this cycle of letting people use and dispose of you as they please?" shane demanded, his tone a little too assertive for such a sensitive and vulnerable topic.
yet his words send a flicker of rage through me. "don't make this about conor when it has nothing to fucking do with him." i retorted and he went to argue back before hesitating, and letting out a huff. "i cannot do this, shane. i truly can't. i'm not strong enough."
"you are ridiculously strong." he whispered, tucking his hand under my chin and letting his thumb trace my jawline. "and you are unbelievably addictive. you're like— it's like i've had you once and now i cant turn you away."
my lower lip caught between my teeth as he spoke and i let his words drip into my bloodstream, thick and coursed with immorality.
within two minutes of awkward silence our suit jackets were in a heaped pile on the office floor and i was sat on my desk with my legs around his waist, desperate for air as he kissed me harder than i had ever been kissed before. almost as though he was starving; hankering for any form of reassurance that the crazy obsession he had been thrown into was mutual. my fingers gripped tightly into his hair and i failed to suppress a whimper as he pulled me in by my belt loops, pressing his suit trousers against mine.
"stop." shane breathlessly managed to rush out, craning his head to the side to stop me kissing him any further. "we should stop. you're upset, the whole court case thing—"
he was silenced by my mouth being on his again, fists clenching at his tie before moving into his shirt buttons. it was now my turn to crave reassurance. familiarity. the acknowledgment that even if the father of my own daughter didn't want me, one of the most charismatic and charming men on television couldn't stay away.
"this was definitely not in the job description." shane muttered when i began to kiss down his neck, the thrill of dozens of office staff having no idea what we were doing starting to ooze through my actions. "fuck, what're you doing to me?
i can't leave you alone."
a/n: sorry it's been so long. i've started university and am studying literature and writing and it's crazy busy! hope everyone enjoyed shane's return to youtube last week :) <3 -amber