~Chapter Twenty-Five: It's Complicated~
Waking up in someone else's bed has always been weird to me. Especially when you wake up in their arms, wearing their clothes, and their face is tucked into your neck. It is different than the last time I woke up in Ryland's apartment, and much different from when I would wake up in a bed covered by wolves. Unlike the first time, waking up in the lion's den does not feel intimidating, only inviting.
Maybe it is because the last time I was here, I did not willingly climb into Ryland's bed, but simply woke up in it anyway. Or maybe, it is because I actually feel warm and comfortable, and have no trouble admitting it...mentally, not verbally. It could even be because he is not as frightening to be around as he was until recently. In fact, I might even...trust him. But only a little.
What sucks is that now, when I am perfectly comfortable sleeping for a few more hours in his comfortable bed, I actually have to be somewhere.
It took a total of five minutes to escape Ryland's hold on me, and another fifteen to get ready silently enough not to wake him, though I am surprised my vibrating phone alarm did not do that already. While I would appreciate the ride, it is only twenty minutes by foot and a little exercise has not killed me yet. By the time I made it out of the apartment, I had thirty minutes before my first class started. By the time I made it to the college, I had five. Too many stoplights.
"Even with that beanie, I can still tell you didn't brush your hair," Cameron says the moment I sit down next to him in our shared class. I roll my eyes before tucking the hair around my ears back, then grimacing when I realize that it has no intention of staying down and instead becomes spikey. Maybe it is time to get a haircut.
Ryland retrieved most of my stuff last night – namely my phone charger, computer, class books for today, a second pair of shoes, and a toothbrush – but he forgot to grab my hairbrush. So, it was either use Ryland's, or not brush my hair. My choice is rather obvious.
I narrow my eyes at the vampire when I catch a whiff of the scent clinging to him. "Why do you smell like Riley's brother?" I ask. It is not that I am complaining, but if Cameron is only hanging out with Jason to get close to Riley, we are going to have to talk.
To my surprise, Cameron refuses to meet my gaze, staring down at his desk instead, "He thinks he is trying to help me woo his brother."
"And is he?"
"At first, yes. Now, no."
I frown at his vague answer. "You're being more cryptic than usual today," I remark. However, judging from his expression, I cannot expect him to give me a better answer. "Whatever is going on, know that I'm just a phone call away."
"Thank you," Cameron says, an accent I have never heard before appearing in his words. He is so lost in thought that he must not have noticed. However, the thoughtful look quickly vanishes after he shakes his head a couple of times. "Speaking of smells, you are wearing Ryland's clothes. Have you two...?"
"No," I snap, before covering my face with my hand. "Sorry. I owed Ryland a favor and he cashed it by making me stay with him for a week. Now he won't let me get my clothes."
The vampire snorts with laughter, finding my pain hilarious. A few heads turn our way out of curiosity, but when neither of us makes any attempt to share the joke that is absolutely not funny, they look away. "Congratulations on your engagement," he quips.
"You suck," I growl, scrunching up my face in annoyance.
Cameron's lips quirk upward and he winks at me, "It's what I do best."
I take a moment to glare at him, "I can't tell if that is some really dirty innuendo or a vampire joke."
"Both."
- - - - - - -
My final class lets us out a little later than usual. The teacher decided to watch a foreign movie during class and miscalculated the time. It ended only ten minutes later that class was supposed to end, and while I felt bad for the students who had to rush off to their next class, the movie was a nice way to wind down after a stressful day.
It is because class ended late that I am not surprised to find Ryland waiting for me in the parking lot. "You could have woken me up," he says, as soon as I open the door.
"I left a note," I remind him, sitting down and making myself comfortable.
"I could have driven you to class," he counters.
"I needed the exercise."
"You would not have needed to run the last two blocks."
"I wanted to be-" I cut myself off, whipping my gaze away from the road and over to the smirking lion. "How the hell did you know that?"
Ryland turns his head to look at me, and because we are at a stoplight, he is able to hold my stare. "I heard you open the front door. It only took a couple of minutes for me to catch up to you," he shrugs.
"I would have heard your truck, headphones or not."
He shakes his head, "I was on foot."
Now it makes sense. And with my headphones turned up pretty loud to tune out the world, I would not have heard him even if he was as loud as an elephant. Like the predator he is, it would have been no trouble to stalk an unsuspecting leopard. After all, he had been doing that for almost a full month before I even knew he was in town.
More than a little peeved, I decide to change the subject. "Since I'm guessing you don't stay in the apartment and brood for hours, what do you do all day while I'm at college or not around?" I ask, genuinely curious. He mentioned work before, but I never got around to actually asking about it. Or, really, I was not sure if I wanted to know and chose not to think about it.
"I am in charge of our pride's-"
"Your pride's," I growl.
"-money. Even while here, I control all the business that the pride is involved in, whether it is individual members or the pride as a whole," Ryland explains, his tone suggesting that it is nothing special. Now it makes sense that Ryland is not constantly bothering me. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.
I mull this over for a moment before asking another question on my mind, "Who's the...the head lion?"
"My brother is king," Ryland answers, smiling at my lack of knowledge on pride terms. The horror must have shown on my face because his smile widens. "Caspian never wanted the responsibility, but it was his birthright and he accepted it. He likes to take his idea of a 'break' whenever he gets the chance, though. He is a good king and a good brother, but he does not always act the way he should."
Even with his explanation, I still grimace. I feel almost sorry for him for having to put up with his irresponsible brother. I have no doubt he could be serious when the situation calls for it, even with my biased opinion caused by the catnip incident, but he is still an idiot most of the time, from what I can tell. Or, at the very least, he likes to act the part of the fool.
Ryland remains silence while he focuses on parking the truck, ending our conversation. I slide out of the truck before it even comes to a full stop and make it to the elevator just as the engine shuts off. He appears to be in no rush to catch up this time and while I am not in a hurry either, I would very much like to use the bathroom as soon as possible.
Thirty minutes later, I am sprawled out on the couch with a pillow over my head. I finished all of yesterday's homework last night, using it as an excuse to avoid Ryland and his advances. He was not happy about it, but he honored my wish, talking to himself as he stalked away – intentionally being loud enough to overhear – about how he cannot wait until the weekend. I am a little worried about what that might mean.
Today, I turned in assignments, but was not given any, which means no legitimate excuse. Thankfully, Ryland has his own work to do. I saw him doing a lot of it yesterday, but it seems that he either got more overnight or he never finished it. What I find odd is that, when he is paying attention to me, I want him to stop. But when he is not, I want him to only pay attention to me...
I'm starting to turn into some kind of domestic house cat.
After a moment of scolding myself for my neediness, I roll onto my stomach and move the pillow to cover the back of my head. I manage to remain in that position for a full minute before I become restless and roll off the couch, landing awkwardly on my knees. From there, I get up and enter the small kitchen, which is on the other side of Ryland's desk and next to the bathroom. He does not even glance up as I pass by him.
I take my time rummaging through the refrigerator before moving onto the stuff next to it, laid out on the counter. One specific thing catches my eye. "How long have you had this drink?" I ask, glancing at the sealed bottle. When Ryland looks up to see what I am talking about, I step to the side to give him a better view.
"Two weeks. Why?" He asks, resuming his paperwork.
"It says it's supposed to be refrigerated, that's why," I frown, poking the bottle in question. It is a plastic bottle and the contents look, well, gross. It appears to be some kind of energy drink.
When I glance at Ryland, he is fixated on his paperwork. "There was no room in the refrigerator," he mumbles, clearly not focused. "If you want, you can throw it out."
While I am hesitant to waste the drink, I get the feeling that if one of us were to drink it, we would be sick for days. I pick it up before scowling and setting it back down, my hand coming away sticky and covered with red goop. After turning the bottle around, I discover a spill line on the side. Definitely spoiled.
Picking it up, I walk over to the trash bin and pop the lid. Cautiously, I toss it in and let the lid drop. However, I was not fast enough, because the moment the bottle hits the bottom of the bin, the top shoots off. Red goop explodes out of the trashcan and splashes onto me. The bottle cap lands a few feet behind me, next to Ryland's shoes.
I may not have had Ryland's attention a moment ago, but I certainly have it now. He doubles over his desk, clutching his sides as roaring laughter fills the small kitchen. While I wait for him to pull himself together, I walk over to the sink to get the paper towels. He is lucky that I was between him and the trash bin, because not a single drop reached him. "That smells terrible," he complains, wrinkling his nose despite the grin on his face.
"You can shut up," I snarl, even though I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. It was pretty funny, even if it smells absolutely disgusting and I am covered in the gunk.
Ryland leaves his desk to join me by the kitchen, "Go take a shower. I will clean it up."
Relieved to be free of cleaning duty, I immediately go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Getting out of the shirt without smearing the gunk on my hair is hard. That is, until I realize my hair is already coated in the stuff and just pull it off. My face looks like I was sneezed on by some B-grade horror movie monster.
The first thing I do is wash the slime out of my hair, which is a lot harder than it might seem. It is practically waterproof and I have to use a dollop of shampoo to successfully de-slime my hair. My skin is a lot easier, as it offers little resistance against the washcloth and bar of soap. I spend a couple more minutes soaking in the hot water, trying to remove the disgusting scent from my skin as best I can.
When I get out, I leave the water running and carefully pick up my disgusting clothes, trying my best not to touch the slime. They hit the shower floor with a disgusting splat sound and I leave them there for a moment, watching the water turn pink upon contact and swirling down the drain. By the time the clothes seem clean enough, I am almost completely dry.
Turning the water off, I toss the towel onto the floor to clean up any mess there. I soon regret that when I realize I did not bring in any clothes. "Ryland, can you bring me something to wear?" I call out.
There is no reply, but I wait for a couple of minutes anyway. Just when I put my hand on the door, prepared to go out there to get my clothes despite the awkwardness of being naked, there is a knock on the door. I unlock it and pull it open. I manage to snatch the clothes with one hand while keeping the door mostly closed with the other.
"Thank you," I snap, before shutting the door in his face. To my disappointment, he only brought a pair of sweatpants without any underwear. Though, I guess that last part is my fault, as he offered to lend me some of his, but I am not the kind of guy who wears someone else's briefs. I may not be all that eager to go commando, but so long as I am careful to keep my thoughts in check, nothing bad should happen.
Leaving my clothes to dry out in the shower, I exit the bathroom and immediately head for the stairs. However, Ryland is waiting on the bed, eyeing me with no restraint. If it was Dylan, I would probably kick his face in because he would only do it to purposefully get on my nerves. Ryland, however, makes me want to enjoy his attention. Which is exactly why I do no such thing.
I walk confidently over to the dresser and pull out the first shirt I find, a blue and grey-striped t-shirt. "Don't you have work to do?" I demand, yanking the shirt over my head.
"Finished while you were in the shower, tesoro mio," he replies, closing his eyes.
I frown for a moment, trying to translate, but draw a blank, "What's that mean?"
"My treasure."
"I'm not sure which one's worse, my love or my treasure," I grumble, before returning downstairs. The smell lingers in the air, but it is not all that strong in the living room. I curl up on the couch under the lamp and turn the TV on. After flipping through the channels, I come across an old favorite. "Hey, Ryland, your cousin's on TV."
The two lions frolic about, "Can you feel the love-"
I turn the TV off.
[AN: Warning: This book is Mature for a reason and the next chapter is part of the reason. Meaning, sexual content. Happy holidays!]