"So, do you want to talk about the real reason you fought a guy above your weight division," he opened his mouth. I already knew what he was going to say so I cut him off. "And don't say for the money, or I will smack you. Black eye or not." I warned.
"When did you get so bossy, sunshine?" He teased, nudging my shoulder.
"When did you get so good at avoiding my questions?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't lying when I said I did it for the money."
"You're serious? You're willing to get yourself killed in the ring for money? I didn't realise you were money driven." I picked at the semi dead grass next to my legs.
"I'm not money driven," he paused, thinking. He was there, sitting next to me, but he wasn't there. I swear he had done that at least three times since this conversation had started.
What if he wanted money for drugs, and that's why he was zoning out all the time.
"Are you on drugs?" I asked outright. No point sugar coating it right?
He blinked slowly. "Huh?"
Not a good start.
"Are you on drugs?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"What kind of drugs you're referring to."
"The bad kind. The stuff that you would change your name and move to Mexico if you ever got caught with it."
"Oh, well no, I guess not then," he reached into his pocket. "I've got these thought."
He threw a small white bottle in my general direction. I didn't catch it. Obviously. I'm uncoordinated as hell. Instead I made grabby hands, played hot potato for several seconds, then the bottle fell to its death. Well, to the ground.
I picked it up, dusting the dirt off it so I could read the label. I squinted to read the small font.
"Eszopiclone," I read aloud. I chucked the bottle back at him. "What are they?"
"Sleeping pills."
"Sleeping pills? Why do you need sleeping pills?"
"Insomnia."
I had a light bulb moment. "That time when you practically fell asleep in every class?"
"Yeah, if you take one and then don't get at least seven hours of sleep then they tend to make you drowsy and a little disorientated."
I sat there for a moment, processing the new information. The others had gone suspiciously quiet. They had been sitting a few feet away from us, while Ryan and I sat with our backs against the tree trunk. I looked in their direction, and the conversation automatically started again. Eavesdroppers.
"Do you have really crazy dreams with dragons and shit in them?" I asked. I was curious. I had heard that sleeping pills made you have really weird dreams that were almost like hallucinations.
He shook his head, chuckling. "You're full of surprises aren't you?"
I grinned. "Well, life would be boring if there were any surprises."
"Touché, and no, my dreams are pretty run of the mill."
"So no purple elephants or glitter sneezing dragons?" I asked. I was still hopeful.
"Sorry to disappoint."
~*~*~*~
"Why do you need to keep training?" I asked as we walked through the back door of the gym, I had to jog to catch up with Ryan. The place was pretty empty, excluding Hamish and a couple of other guys who looked like they were about to fall on the ground and go into cardiac arrest. "Shouldn't you take it easy for a while?"
"I need to get my confidence back," He replied, swinging his arms back and forth to warm up his muscles as he headed to change his clothes. He turned around, throwing me a cheeky grin. "I'll tell Hamish not to aim for the money maker." He circled his face with his finger.
I rolled my eyes, flopping onto the ground. I opened up my sketchbook, my new sketchbook. I hadn't used it before, and it made the most satisfying sound when I opened it. You know when sometimes you open a hardcover and it makes this...crackling noise? Not like 'holy shit I broke it' crackling, but the sound the spine and pages make. And the pages, don't even get me started. I could smell the new book smell before the pages were even anywhere near my face. The pages just smelt like hippy dust of peace and happiness had been sprinkled onto them and then the book had been shut and left to marinate.
"Are you...sniffing that book?" Came a voice from behind me.
"Yes." No point denying it. There was no way I could lie my way out of that one.
Hamish sat on the ground next to me. "Why are you sniffing that book." He was looking at me like I was high. Maybe I was high on new book smell.
"Because it smells good." I thrust it in his direction. "See?"
He jerked his head backwards to avoid being face booked. Get it, face booked? Haha I'm hilarious.
Hamish shook his head. "I think you get weirder every time I see you."
I rolled my eyes, watching as Ryan reentered the room. I was slightly disappointed to see that he was wearing a shirt. He walked over to the ring and sat on the edge of it, attempting to put on his gloves. Hamish stood up to go and help him. I grabbed his shirt before he could leave.
"What is it?" He asked, crouching down so that he was at my eye level.
"Just...go easy on him okay," I said in a hushed voice. I didn't want Ryan to hear.
He chuckled. "Don't worry, H, I won't hurt your boyfriend."
"I'm serious Hamish, he's not himself. Promise me that you won't offer him any fights that you know he doesn't stand a chance in because he will fight, and he'll get himself killed. He's stubborn."
"Yeah that's an understatement," he muttered under his breath.
I elbowed him in the gut. "Promise me."
He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine I promise."
I nodded, and he headed over to Ryan.
I watched them closely throughout the session, relieved to see that most of the drills were on technique and fitness, and nobody else fists were coming into contact with him.
I took my eyes off them for a while, opening my sketchbook again. I took my pencil out of my pocket and smiled at Caleb's name on the side. I pondered over what to draw, I mean, it was the first page so it had to be something memorable. Then I looked up and grinned. What's better than a live model? Better yet a hot one. I'll tell you, it was difficult, partly because he kept moving. That was a pain in my ass, and occasionally (every three minutes) I would get distracted by his excellent genetics and stare.
My pencil scratched the paper, drawing rough lines, and then more defined ones. Eventually it started looking like him. I'll tell you something funny. I'd drawn him shirtless. I hadn't meant to, he was wearing a shirt after all, I guess I just had a sexy imagination.
I still wasn't finished my sketch an hour and a half later when they finally stepped out of the ring. I stood up, stretching my legs which were cramped from sitting cross legged for so long. Ryan came up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head.
I scrunched up my nose and squirmed. "You're all sweaty."
He laughed at me, tightening his arms around my waist. He pointed to my sketchbook which was still open. "What's that?"
"You."
"Why am I not wearing a shirt?"
"Because you look better without one." I suggested truthfully.
He quickly spun me around to face him, and I cringed as my book hit the floor with a thud. I'd been caught by surprise, and me being my clumsy self, well I had dropped it.
He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, cupping my face with both hands. He leaned in, and down, considering he was a lot taller than me. I felt his lips softly brush mine, my eyes fluttering closed.
I suddenly heard heavy footsteps.
"Hey guys!"
I felt the absence of Ryan's breath fanning my face, and the warmth of his hands. I opened my eyes reluctantly.
I sighed loudly, giving Hamish my best 'what the fuck do you want' look. Ryan had his arms crossed over his chest, was just staring over my head with his jaw taunt. He was so done with those interruptions.
Hamish looked at both of us. Between the pissed facial expressions and exaggerated sighing I think he got the message that his presence was unwanted.
He flinched. "I interrupted something didn't I?"
"No, we were just staring at each other dreamily while reciting lines of Shakespeare," Ryan said, the sarcasm practically dripping from his words. He sent a harsh glare in Hamish's direction.
"Ah shit," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry?"
I rolled my eyes. "I hope whatever you wanted to tell us was important."
He blanched. "I uh...well I...It's funny that you mention it because I actually can't really...remember," he replied sheepishly.
Ryan threw his hands in the air. "I give up." Then he stalked off to the locker rooms to get changed.
"You're a retard," I told Hamish bluntly. I picked up my sketchbook from where I had dropped it. "Tell Ryan I'll be waiting at the truck."
I turned on my heel and headed out to Ryan's truck. I had the keys in my pocket because I had driven there. He obviously wasn't in any condition to drive, especially considering that he needed sleeping pills. I know this isn't how they work, but I was always scared that he would just randomly go unconscious, which wouldn't have such a great result if he was driving.
I jammed the key into the lock, and forcefully twisted it. It was kind of rusty so a little extra force was required. I jumped into the drivers side, slamming the door. I'll be honest, I probably slammed it a little harder than necessary. My action rattled the whole truck, causing the glovebox to pop open.
"Stupid old truck," I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes.
I leant over to close it, and in the process I noticed something on the floor of the passengers side. It was overturned, but definitely looked like a photo. I picked it up and flipped it over, dusting the dirt off with my hand.
It was a man. I recognised him from the pictures in Ryan's room, but he looked a lot younger in this one. He wore a suit and tie, and had a lopsided grin on his face. The same one that Ryan wore, although less frequently now. Even though he had dark hair, brown eyes and darker skin than Ryan, I could see the similarities. They had the same smile, the same face shape, and the same lips. They even had the same dimple, a small one on the right cheek.
"He looks happy there, right?"
I let out a short scream, dropping the picture to my lap and clutching my chest. Ryan was grinning at me, his head stuck through the passenger side window.
He opened the door with a creak, climbing into the truck and closing the door. He threw his bag over his shoulder and into the backseat.
I picked up the picture and handed it to him. "Sorry, I found it on the ground and-"
"He looks happy right?"
"Uh, yeah."
"That was their wedding day."
I nodded and he continued.
"You know what I think about sometimes?"
"What?"
"If they had never been married, then I would never have been born, then I wouldn't have met you. I do believe in destiny, and this is mine." He looked at the picture for a moment, smiling at it, then he opened the glovebox and placed it gently inside. I noticed that there was a whole stack of pictures before he closed it.
Who knew that boys could be so cryptic? I didn't know quite what to say to that. Was he saying that I was his destiny?
Instead, I drove us both home, parking the truck in his driveway.
Ryan looked over at me. "Stay for dinner?"
"I really shouldn't..." I trailed off. He was giving me the puppy dog eyes. Oh god, don't look. It's like hypnosis.
"Dad has a late meeting tonight. I have to pick Jasmine up from Mrs Millers."
"She can come too," he bargained.
I sighed. Now he was pouting too. "Fine, give me ten minutes."
I climbed out of the truck, chucking him the keys so he could lock it. I walked across the street to Mrs Millers house. It wasn't like it would take ten minutes to walk across the street, retrieve Jasmine and walk back again, but Mrs Miller liked to talk. A lot. Don't get me wrong, she was a lovely lady, but you could never leave. I had learnt the hard way not to go inside if she offered. You would be talking about her soap collection for at least an hour, and that was if she didn't start talking about her stamps. If she started on those, you were royally screwed.
I reluctantly knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately. Mrs Miller was standing there with a warm smile, on hand on Jasmines shoulder. Jasmine, on the other hand, didn't look the least bit impressed. She had this look on her face that said 'if you don't get me out of here, I will break something'. Jasmine wasn't the most tolerant person out there, but I couldn't really blame her in this case.
"Hazel dear, come in."
"I would love to, Mrs Miller, but I really can't."
Her face fell. "But I have a new stamp."
I grabbed Jasmine by the arm, pulling her towards me. "I'm sure it's great, but I really do have to go."
"Just five minutes?" She asked hopefully. I felt sorry for her. She was just lonely, her husband had died a year ago.
I started backing away. "Maybe another time," I said. "Thanks for looking after Jasmine."
Jasmine and I walked across the street. "How was Mrs Miller?"
"She tried to teach me how to knit. That was after we had gone through her whole soap collection and the stamps," she said with a glare.
"Come on, she's not that bad."
"You're not the one who stabbed your finger with a knitting needle, three times in the same spot."
"You can't exactly blame her for that."
We walked past our house and Jasmine frowned. "Where are we going?"
"Ryan's house for dinner."
She nodded. "Oh."
I looked at her. "By the way, what was school like the day after parent teacher conferences?"
She grinned. "Everyone wanted to be my friend. Maddie even shared her Cheetos with me."
I smiled. "Good."
We walked into the Martinez residence without knocking. What was the point, they knew we were coming right?
Ryan was in the kitchen, and Archie was sitting at the counter with a pencil in his hand. He had his tongue out and his forehead scrunched up like he was thinking really hard.
"Hey."
Ryan spun around. "Oh, hey. I take it you got away from Mrs Miller then?"
"Barely," I responded. "What's for dinner?"
"Mac and cheese. I hope that's alright, it's Archie's favourite and I promised."
I smiled. "It's fine."
After dinner we watched High School Musical on Jasmines request, and I wasn't particularly surprised that Ryan knew all the words to the songs. So did it. Instead of watching the rest of the movie, our singing turned into one big dance party, which initially, Jasmine was too embarrassed to join, but as soon as Archie did, she seemed to come out of her shell. After that Archie was out like a light, and Jasmine followed not long after.
I looked at Jasmines sleeping form. "Do you have a spare room?"
Ryan shook his head no. "Archie has bunks though."
I nodded, picking her up like a baby. She wasn't particularly heavy. Ryan too picked up Archie. We carried them upstairs. I tucked Jasmine into the bottom bunk, and watched as Ryan lifted Archie onto the top bunk, pulling the covers up to his chin and tucking him in. He ruffled his hair and smiled up at his little brother.
He was a great brother. He was far better to Archie than I was to Jasmine.
~*~*~*~
Ryan walked out of his bathroom, shirtless. I had seen him shirtless enough times that it shouldn't have been shocking to me, but it still was.
He climbed in bed next to me. "You text your dad?"
I nodded. I had texted dad to inform him that we wouldn't be there when he got home. Just so he wouldn't think his daughters had been kidnapped, because he is the type to jump to conclusions. Once, when I was a kid, my dad couldn't find me so he filed a missing persons report. I was reading a book in my closet. So you could say that the tends to overreact.
I switched off the light, resting my head on his chest.
"Sunshine?"
"Mmm?"
"Just a warning, the sleeping pills tend to make me toss and turn a lot."
I shrugged. "Okay."
Ryan went to sleep fairly quickly after that, but I didn't. I actually wasn't tired for once in my life.
I watched Ryan as he slept. Creepy, yes, but also strange. He was right that the sleeping pills did weird things to him, but it wasn't the tossing and turning that worried me.
He had lied to me.
His dreams definitely were not 'run of the mill' as he had put it.
He was having nightmares.
~*~*~*~
Whoa guys, that was a long chapter. I'm so tired now.
By the way, I'm sitting here eating strawberry Oreo chocolate. Did anyone else not know that this existed, or do I just live under a rock?
Also, the next person who complains about my blonde jokes is going to get a rotten tomato to the face. (I am a blondie, so deal with it!)
P.s 500k reads!! That's half a million and a quarter of 2 million and an eighth of 4 million. Mind blown. Literally, if you find a piece of my brain, please return it to me, I need as many brain cells as I can get.
Vote, comment, follow.
Until next time.