Chapter 4
“What?” I asked, stunned for like the fourth time in the last five minutes. “I’m nothing like you!”
Ryan laughed dryly, “You have no friends and think everyone in our school is just a dolled up Barbie. Am I correct?”
I carried on looking at him in shock, mumbling quietly, “Where are you going with this?”
Fidgeting with my hands I waited for his answer. “I’m just saying that you are different to them, you don’t care about all the fake stuff.”
“Why does it matter, it’s not like we’re anything like each other?” I said, watching the local shops trickle past slowly, the car covering ground as we got closer to Auntie’s house.
“No, we come from two separate worlds, but we have one thing in common at least,” Ryan grunted.
I didn’t saying anything after that, my fear of him still spiking through my veins as I didn’t want to make the mistake of arguing with him and getting on his bad side. To say I was scared would be too dainty a word to use; I was more like petrified or aghast.
We parked outside the house soon after, my eyes sweeping over the 18th century town house with large Georgian glass windows, and red stone bricks. It was a tall house, not a particularly wide one, with rooms only being just less than three metres in width, but it was cosy and comfortable nevertheless.
It dawned on me, when I opened the door that Ryan had known where I lived, which in itself was odd. Turning to face Ryan, I opened my mouth, begging words to form as they had done not three minutes earlier. What came out was nothing but an exhalation of air, my hand shaking on the car door.
Ryan watched me with a confused expression, his harsh face turning to one of confusion. “You’re scared of me,” he said, coming up with an answer, his head shaking once in acceptance.
I nodded my head, even though the very fact that I was admitting I was scared of him could mean that he pinned me as an easy target.
“I guess that can’t be helped,” he shrugged, as if the fact that I was scared of him pleased him in a way.
I shied away from him as he shrugged, getting this underlying need to run to my front door. Ryan was just that intimidating. I had been used to seeing boxers, especially due to my past, but Ryan was like a flash from my memories, the toned physic and square jaw line. I hadn’t seen someone with his looks for a long time.
Running my eyes warily over him once again, I concluded that he wasn’t a boxer, but by the impression I got from him, he was definitely used to having plenty of fights, and by the looks of the ugly deformed scars that ran along his hands they were very serious.
Ryan followed my gaze as I pondered over his hands, his eyebrows coming together, showing his apprehension.
With an abrupt shake of the head, I looked away from him, gulping down the saliva in my throat. Looking back at the house I sighed, there was no way for him to get home. What was I supposed to do about Ryan now?
Ryan turned off the car, looking at me expectantly.
Taking in a gulp of breath I tried to steady my nerves, “Do you, do you want to come inside?”
Ryan flashed me a cocky grin before reaching for the door handle and getting out. “Sure.”
I nodded my head, walking around the car and up the cobble steps to the door. Bringing out the keys from my bag, I felt Ryan lingering behind me.
Opening the door, I walked into the hall, taking off my shoes and shuffling myself to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink?” I asked Ryan, watching him take off his black trainers.
“Yeah, that would be great,” he replied, his large figure coming to a stop just before me.
“Okay,” I said, taking in his expression for a second before moving off to the kitchen.
Reaching in a cupboard I withdrew two glasses, “What would you like?”
I looked back at his face, staring at his straight nose, brown eyes and did I mention strong jaw line? He was gorgeous, but in a dangerous way, and I wasn’t sure if that was a turn-on or not. Watching him shift on his feet made me wrinkle my forehead, what was I thinking? That guy was as dangerous as a loaded gun in a child’s hands.
“Do you have some orange juice?” he asked, looking around the kitchen, smirking at the dirty plates still stacked in the sink.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a cartoon of juice. Carrying it gently back to the counter, I carefully poured two glasses of orange juice. “Here,” I said, pushing a glass in his direction.
He took it with sure hands, raising it to his lips and taking a large gulp. “Thanks,” he smiled, once he had gulped down the orange liquid.
“No problem,” I watched him for a little longer, feeling the undercurrent of tension rise in the room. “So, how did you know where I lived?” I asked hesitantly, waiting for the repercussions of my question, hoping that the ‘back wall’ rumours weren’t true.
However, I was shocked when Ryan chuckled - rather than step forward and wring my neck. “I have been here before.”
“Huh?” That wasn’t what I was expecting, “When?”
“About a two years ago, with my parents. You don’t speak much do you?” Ryan stated, looking at me with amusement.
“No.”
Ryan grunted, his whole body shaking as he examined me closely, “Why is that?”
I shrugged, my hips leaning on the counter as I thought about his question. Coughing, I parted my lips, “But neither do you.”
This time Ryan shrugged, “I don’t waste breath on things that don’t need to be spoken about.”
“Why are you talking now?” I could feel my confidence returning slightly, the shaking of my hands reducing to only a slight tremble.
“Maybe I think you are worth talking too.”
Ryan tossed the sentence around as if he meant nothing by it, but I could tell that he was testing the water, to see what my response would be.
“I’m boring, remember.”
Ryan didn’t say anything; he just carried on examining me, his arms folded across his chest.
I felt uncomfortable under his gaze, my insides beginning to squirm in a way that I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Um, so, why did you drive me home?” I had asked one question and he hadn’t murdered me, I can ask two right?
“As I said, you looked like you wanted to cry. Can’t have that pretty face getting into a car crash now can we?” he said, smirking at my surprised face.
“Ur…” I stuttered in search of a word, smiling when the words hit my tongue. “I can drive myself you know.”
Ryan took a step forward, his body language casual. Why was he able to seem so calm whilst I looked like a blundering nervous wreck? “Yeah, but I couldn’t chance that now, could I?”
Looking at his face, I gasped; what was he saying? Turning around quickly, my hand knocked my glass that was sitting precariously on the counter, the contents tipping onto the floor. The glass smashed loudly, shards of shiny pointed flecks flying everywhere. I froze, my gaze wandering down to my bare feet, which now had tiny cuts that were bleeding. “Oh,” I whispered, memories funnelling their way back to the front of my mind - blood.
“Stay where you are,” Ryan instructed, taking large strides out of the room. A few seconds later he re-emerged with shoes on. With sure steps his shoes crunched loudly on the glass until he came to a stop in front of me. “Here.”
I watched as he held out his hands, one coming around my waist. My heart began to accelerate at lightening speed, my breaths coming out laboured. When his hand scooped around my waist, I felt my whole body being lifted towards his chest. Ryan’s other hand, once he had secured a hand around my waist, came to my feet - lifting them up off the ground. And then he was carrying me, my skin burning where his warm calloused fingers touched the bare skin on my back.
With a small sigh, Ryan lowered me down on a chair by the kitchen table. “Are you ok?” he asked me, his eyes searching mine.
Releasing an unsteady breath, I nodded.
“Do you mind if I look at your feet?” His hands indicated to the floor, his face set in worry.
“Ok,” I finally replied, at a loss for words, my mind reeling in warmth, but also panic.
His warm hands picked up a foot, my ankle being rotated as he examined one of the small cuts. “There is a bit of glass, this might hurt slightly.”
I nodded, refusing to watch as he used his short fingernails to take out the small piece of glass.
“All done,” he told me a minute later. “I could get you a plaster, but the fresh air would probably be better for it. The bleeding has stopped anyway.”
My foot dropped slowly to the floor as he picked up the other one, methodically examining my foot, and in all honesty I kind of felt like I was at the doctors when they try to diagnose you with an illness, their hands prodding at your wrists. I had been to a lot of doctors in the last six months. Francis had been determined that there was another reason for my nervous disposition, and terror of being physically close to someone. But, the doctors had simply said that it was all mental, the effects of the traumatic event I had witnessed only months earlier. Francis was getting increasing worried though as time was passing and I still wasn’t getting any better.
“All done,” Ryan declared.
I let out an unsteady breath, watching him rise to his full height until he was towering above me.
Peering up at him, I felt myself grimace. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it. It happens,” Ryan shrugged, turning his head to look out the patio window that leads out into the garden.
I followed his gaze, smiling lightly at the flawless garden. Francis was an avid gardener, so there were beautiful flowers sprouting in bounty all over the garden. The wildflowers were my favourite because they didn’t look cultivated, just natural and beautiful like a long grassy field that you have picnics in during the heat of the summer.
“Wow, Ms. Reynolds has an enthusiastic hobby.”
I frowned, “Yeah, Francis like beauty, she believes in hard work and endurance until you get a result.” I indicated with my hand. “It has taken her years to get the garden looking like that.” I took in a large gulp of breath after I finished, shocked at how easy those words just flowed out of my mouth.
Ryan also looked over at me too, one eyebrow rising above the other, “Really now?”
Feeling embarrassed under his gaze I looked down at the floor, wiggling my toes, “Yeah.”
There was a pause, but I could feel Ryan’s eyes watching me as I twisted my ankle in a circle. “We should probably clean up the mess,” Ryan told me, heading back over to the counter where the floor was covered in shining white specs.
“Yeah, we should.” I got to my feet ready to help, but Ryan quickly strode back towards me, his hands pushing me gently back down into the chair.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it. Just tell me where the broom is and I’ll get started.”
“Um,” I faltered, feeling heat rush to my face, my body extremely aware of the touch of his hands on my shoulders. “It’s under the stairs, in the cupboard I mean.”
“Right,” he assured, reluctantly removing his hands and making his way out into the hall where the stairs were situated.
I watched him subtly as he crouched down on his knees, his arms making wide sweeping movements when he brought the brush across the tiled floor.
“I should feel exposed, you staring at me like that, but it’s kind of sexy,” he smirked, his face swivelling on his neck as he peered over at me.
I jumped in fright, my face immediately flushing the colour of pink rose petals. “I… I…”
“No, I think it’s cute.”
I grimaced as he said cute. There was no way, in my old life, that I would have ever been called cute; dangerous, tempting and sexy – yes, but never… cute.
Ryan laughed at my expression, his back bending as he kneeled over.
It was then that a loud slam alerted me to the presence of someone in the house. Jumping to my feet, I waited anxiously, Ryan still chortling deeply on the ground.
“Dawn?” came Aunty Francis’s voice, her tone masked with confusion.
“In here,” I called, fidgeting with my fingers as I pondered over what she was going to say about finding Ryan lying in the middle of her kitchen floor.
Francis walked into the kitchen and paused, he face turning into one of shock. “Dawn, what’s going on? Is that you Ryan?”
I looked at Francis guiltily, my hands stinging when I gripped my nails into my palm so hard that I pierced the skin.
“Yes Ms. Reynolds,” Ryan said, jumping to his feet, all moments of laughter now faded from his voice.
“What are you doing in my house Ryan?” Francis questioned.
I began to grow anxious as I watched the exchange, my fingers digging harder into my skin.
“I just drove Dawn home. She was feeling faint and I didn’t want her to drive herself,” Ryan told her, his body rigid.
“Did you now?” Francis muttered coldly.
“Yes.”
“May I ask why there is glass on the floor?” Francis looked over at me as she said this, her eyes making a quick trail over my body, her body stiffening when she stopped on my feet.
“I dropped a glass,” I told her, my body begin to tremble.
“He didn’t hurt you did he, you can tell me Dawn.” Francis’s face was clouded over with concern as she tried to get contact with my eye.
Ryan rolled his eyes bitterly at her statement, his jaw locking into place. “No, I barely touched her,” he spat out.
“I didn’t ask you. Dawn?”
“No, he didn’t hurt me. All this…” I indicated to the floor, “was my fault entirely.”
“Okay, but only if you’re sure.” Francis then turned to Ryan. “Thanks for bringing my niece home. She’s okay now. Do you need a lift back?”
Ryan shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I can walk.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, it’s no problem. I’ll see you tomorrow Dawn. Mrs Reynolds.” He dipped his head slightly to show respect, but I could tell he had no desire to do so by the wide stance of his body.
“Bye Ryan,” Francis said, walking with him to the door.
I stayed where I was, staring at the spot that Ryan had just been standing. What had just happened?
*****
what do you think so far?
There will be errors by the way lol