Ryan waits in his car outside her apartment building. Needless to say, he followed Shay as she left the party with her fiancé. Ryan had to rebel through every sane portion of his mind to stop himself from busting through her front door and throwing that sly-looking guy out of her place.
But he stopped. After all, Ryan has no reason to do that, and Arnab has every right to be inside her apartment. So, that left him with two options: either walk away from her life or wait outside. Why exactly did he choose the latter? Why on earth does that option exist? It is still a puzzle for him.
He's like a ticking bomb at the moment, his nerves already on edge. If the guy doesn't leave her apartment in the next few minutes, he might end up doing the reckless deed. The possibilities of what they were to do for the rest of the night while he waits outside have him going crazy.
After what feels like a lifetime of misery, there's movement, jolting him upright from where he was leaning against the seat. He watches as Shay and her fiancé step down the stairs. Ryan's hands tighten around the steering wheel when Arnab turns around to face her and then bends down for a kiss. Shay turns her head to the side in time for that kiss to land on her cheek. Thank god, she did that.
Before he can reason out, Ryan is already out of his car and walking towards her apartment. As soon as Arnab wheels off and Shay moves back inside, Ryan is there. She stops at the foot of the stairs with her back to him, and Ryan halts, too. She releases a sigh then walks up the echoing stairwell. Ryan follows and continues in silence. Ryan tries not to let the alcohol in his system mess with his mind and doesn't want to objectify his childhood best friend either, but he fails not to stare at her ass as they ascend the stairs. It's just the dress she's wearing. He can't stop admiring the teasing sway in her walk. When did she grow into such a fine woman?
She unlocks the door, steps inside, and leaves the door slightly ajar on her way, not minding as he follows her in. Good thing she didn't lock him outside. She heads straight to the living room, not inviting him. Ryan follows her uninvited, which she doesn't mind. He closes the door behind him, pulls out his suit jacket, and hangs it on the stand at the doorway. She doesn't bother to turn back and look whether Ryan followed her into the living room or not.
Ryan lets his eyes rake over her body as she opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. Shay is wearing the same dress, her hair is in place, and there's no flush on her face except, of course, there's a little bit of it. And that's probably due to the open Jack on her kitchen counter. The cap is nowhere to see.
When he invites himself into the kitchen, her hip pushes against the side of the counter as she tosses the water bottle towards him. Ryan has to react in time to catch it before it hits his face.
"Geez! Don't go wild on me now, Shay," he says, tilting his lips into a lopsided grin and drinks from the bottle. All the while, Shay keeps glaring at him with her fists on her hips. She looks animated, just the way she used to back then.
"Why are you here?" She finally asks, taking hold of the open liquor bottle from the table and taking a long swig from it. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand and then speaks in a liquor-induced scratchy voice. "You shouldn't be here."
"Where? In your apartment?" Ryan takes a glance around her messy living room and finally looks into her eyes.
"In the city. In my apartment. In my kitchen. Do you think I didn't notice your car parked outside the building? Are you stalking me, Ryan?"
"Stalking you?" Ryan scoffs. "In case you didn't pay attention, I'm the new CEO of Tripathi Development, New York branch as of this month. Your precious fiancé works in my office. I'm in your apartment because we didn't finish our conversation back at the party. And I'm here in your kitchen because your alcoholic self doesn't even care if you meet your childhood best friend after years."
"You ran away from town all those years ago, remember? You didn't care if your friend needed you back then, so why should I care now?" She releases a long-drawn groan and then squeezes her eyes while speaking. "Besides, we're finished with our conversation. There's nothing to talk about."
"You know we have a lot to talk about." Ryan brings the bottle to his lips and takes a pull of water, and lets it ease the burn in his throat. He needs a clear mind to have this conversation going. "Don't you have something to say about this tension between us? We're supposed to be comfortable around each other. And you made it pretty clear that night on the dock that you didn't want me around. You pushed me away, Shay. You still are."
"I was hurt, angry, and confused. I was grieving, for god's sake!" A flash of anguish crosses in her brown irises, but Shay swallows the re-emerging grief.
"And now," Ryan frowns, wetting his lips, and continues to speak, a little cautious not to hit the hornet's nest. "Are you still grieving?"
"I don't know." She shrugs her shoulders then takes three raw drags of the whiskey. "If you're here to talk about the kiss we shared back then-"
"I'm not here to talk about that night," Ryan places himself right in front of her, mustering up all his self-control to not look down where her smooth, porcelain cleavage is very much visible. The sudden closeness has her tensing and blinking up at him in question. He doesn't let his shuddering breath tell the story of his desire to recreate that kiss her right this moment. That's an inappropriate thing to do. Ryan knows he's being too unstable with his emotions around her. So, not getting distracted by the new details of her beauty, he grabs Jack from her hand and offers the water. "Go on, drink it. You have office tomorrow."
"Then you should make this visit short so that I can sleep off my hangover." She sneers, snatching the bottle from his hand, drinking the water he offered, and then puts it away. "What do you wanna talk about, Ryan?"
Ryan moves his gaze towards the red marks on her upper arm. They've grown dull, but they are still there. "Do you love Arnab?"
"I'm done talking." She pushes past him, pulls out the bobby pins from her bun, and lets the hair loose on her way into the bedroom. "If you're here to ask if my fiancé is toxic, then It's none of your freaking business. There you have your answer."
"How can I make you believe that it is my fucking business?" He asks, leaning against the doorjamb of her bedroom.
"Be someone else, I guess," Shay says in a somewhat small voice, and he notices her eyes on the shrine beside her bed. On the wall, on her bedside table, and even on the bookcase, Aarav's presence lingers. Ryan feels like he has been dipped into the boiling water of memories as he looks at the photo where Shay is looking. The only anchor that keeps him from getting an anxiety attack is her voice as she delivers, "Since you can't be him, I've nothing to tell you."
Ryan moves his eyes away from the shrine and decides against entering the room. "Is there no us without him?" Even as he asks, Ryan knows the answer. But he waits for the possibilities.
"There's no us without him. You know that." She reaches into the drawer and pulls out a pair of lavender-colored silk pajamas, then places them on the unkempt bed. Ryan's eyes unknowingly go to the black lacy underwear lying on the heap. Oh, god, no. She follows his gaze, hides it under the sheets, and turns to glare at him. Ryan's lips twitch with amusement as he takes in the reddish tint on her cheeks.
"Did New York turn you into a pervert, or you always had that hidden quality?"
"Shouldn't have kept it on display," he scowls.
"You shouldn't be peeking into my bedroom." She tosses her heels under the bed and goes on to secure her hair up with a pencil on her study table. That's a habit from her teenage days. Shay always had long wavy hair. And most of the time, during lectures, she used to gather them up with a pencil. Something he had grown to love about her since the seventh grade. But obviously, she doesn't have to know that.
Shay is right. There were never them and never will be. Not unless they live past the wrong between them. They have all the reasons to resist it. After all, Shay is his twin brother's girlfriend, who is dead, by the way.
The shrine in her bedroom, the bracelet around her wrist, and the ring on her finger scream her denial. The toxic fiancé, the alcohol, everything is a coping mechanism.
"Why are you still here?" She turns around to face him. When Ryan doesn't budge from his position, she moves her fingers to the zipper on the side of her dress and raises her eyebrows to ask him with her eyes, Are you going to stand there and watch me undress?
Ryan assembles himself into his wide stance, hands behind his back, spine straight. His dark gaze narrows at her fingers on the zipper. The dress is barely holding on to her body. The way her chest heaves with each of her breath, Ryan has to gather his self-control to not look at the soft swells of her breasts. He meets her eyes instead with raw, unfiltered affection or desire he doesn't know. But she does. Her eyes grow doe-like, breathing deeply in confusion. She watches him as if he is a predator and she is a prey. However, Ryan doesn't want her to be his prey. He wants to see ease in her eyes.
So, he turns away and walks back to the hall.
"Ryan," he almost misses her soft call, but every fiber in him seems to respond at once. He can feel her presence behind. "Were you going to jump off the ledge?"
Was he going to jump?
"Maybe," Ryan says over his shoulder. He turns his head back to the front, not ready to show his vulnerable self.
"Then, I'm glad you didn't."
He hears her shuddering breath and then her receding steps. He has to fist his hands not to reach out to her. He wants to turn around. He wants to hold her in his arms and seek the comfort he's been missing all his life. But he can't do that. So, he walks towards the door. Before stepping out of her apartment, he takes out his business card from his wallet and sets it on the coffee table.
The long drive from her apartment to his loft in Tribeca gives him enough time to relive the night in detail play-by-play. A day before, Ryan's life wasn't his. But now, it seems like he is starting a new journey, a journey that includes Shay. It's not how it should have been. They shouldn't be together, not when both are equally bad news for each other, carrying the baggage of a tragic past.
Tossing his keys into a bowl on the counter, he goes straight to the music room. He illuminates the room with a switch beside the door and pulls out a bottle of bourbon from the mini fridge. Ryan's nerves explode with long-suppressed feelings crashing his mind full force in a toxic mix of grief and desire.
He sets the liquor bottle on the floor, rolls up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, and settles behind the drums. Drums are his escape route from the painful memories buzzing in his mind. Aarav always wanted to play drums but could never learn it. Ryan had destroyed his drum set in a fit of rage after Aarav's death. But the drumsticks were lying in the junk heap. He brought them with him to New York.
Ryan takes another swig of the golden liquid, letting it sizzle down his throat, and then starts pouring out his wild emotions. Pain has a tempo and a rhythm of its own, and every time Ryan drums with those damn drumsticks between his fingers, he feels Aarav's presence inside his soul. A connection that otherwise tethered forever.
The thundering rumble of Ryan on the drums drowns out half of his senses, and when he hits the cymbal with the ending clash, that's when it happens. His mind drifts back to Shay. Her soulful voice, her sad eyes, and her fine body. Ryan is in great trouble. He knows it now.
The urge to be saved and to save gets stronger when her eyes reflect a soul-deep ache and when he sees her drowning that ache in the haze of whiskey and some guy who may or may not be the right choice. Ryan has to know if she is with Arnab out of love.
After years of staying away from your vice, when you finally have it at your hands, all you can think of is to smother yourself in its taste, get consumed in its smell, and wrap your limbs around it for dear life. Has she always had this impact on him? Yes. Has it become stronger because she is the only one who can stop him from walking away? Maybe.
One day both of their arches will collapse around each other, and Ryan is not sure if he will be able to look into her eyes when the truth comes out. His truth. His ugly, venomous guilt.
***
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I'm trying to catch up to the speed. Hopefully, you won't have to wait much for the next update. If you are enjoying the story, please add your comments and votes.
Stay safe!