c h a p t e r 9
The car ride to Ryder's apartment was quiet.
I kept my eyes on my hands and my hands clasped on my lap, every muscle tense. My eyes felt puffy from crying but the tears had finally dried and I just wanted to get into bed and bury myself under the covers.
Ryder didn't say anything for the entire drive and that only stressed me out more. What was he thinking about? His own punishment for me for breaking the rules? I hadn't been able to explain that I never actually ran away, though he didn't seem too keen on getting the details just yet. His whole we'll discuss this later was replaying in my head. What would he do to me when we got back to his apartment? How mad was he right now?
And it was so humiliating, having him see me like he did. With Cole on top of me, spanking me, punishing me. The shame I felt from being caught in such a position was just as overwhelming as the anxiety I was feeling from being in a silent car with him. I was trying not to replay the events of what just happened but I was finding it so hard.
When we had left my old apartment, Dylan and Cole were no longer there. I had followed Ryder from my old bedroom and I hadn't dared to ask any questions or speak. Quite frankly, my voice was hoarse and I was in desperate need of a glass of water from all the screaming and yelling I had done. However, I had simply kept my head down and trailed after Ryder without another thought.
I was still shocked that he had even shown up and stopped whatever was about to happen with Cole and I. A minute later, maybe even a second, and—
Don't think about it. Push it down. Yet it was hard. My life was in a downward spiral and it all started just over a week ago, after I had slept with Ryder in that club. I still couldn't fathom that it had only been a week since then.
Ryder remained stone-faced when he pulled into the complex parking lot and parked his car, shutting it off and getting out. I followed quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting. Just as I shut the car door, my eyes caught on something a few paces away.
"R-Ryder?"
Ryder halted mid-step as he was rounding the front of the car, bristling.
I swallowed thickly. "My... my bag." I ensured my voice remained soft and unsure because I was seeking permission. Permission to stray from the car and retrieve it. "It's over there."
He cast me a glance over his shoulder before he moved his eyes to where I was gesturing, his gaze landing on my discarded tote bag in the middle of the parking lot. It looked flimsy and dirty, and from where I was standing there was a tire mark on it, but there it was.
Ryder gave the smallest of single nods and I quickly walked over to the bag, snatching it from the road and immediately heading back to him. I felt ridiculous, acting like he was my boyfriend and letting him have this type of control over me since we weren't dating, but I felt in his debt for how he saved me today. I had to make it up to him somehow. Cook him dinner, since I haven't had a chance to do so yet. Maybe deep clean his apartment since I haven't done that either.
When I was standing next to him again, his eyes were like lasers into my soul. "Your phone."
Oh gosh. The phone. Gingerly I opened the tote, correct that there was a skid mark across the side. Someone had run it over and my notebook, mechanical pencils, and pens were crushed on the inside. It was all the supplies I had, too, and the strap of the bag had also broken off.
I rummaged for a moment before my fingers grasped the device and pulled it free, seeing that it had also been crushed under the weight of a car.
I gulped. "I-I'm sor–"
"Don't care," he cut off my apology, shaking his head and turning toward the building entrance. His strides were nothing short of purposeful as he walked off, and I wordlessly put the broken phone back in my tattered bag to follow quickly.
The elevator ride up was just as tense and when we finally made it to his apartment and were inside, Ryder kicked off his shoes and flexed his fingers. I tracked the movements as I carefully took off my own shoes, crouching on the floor to line them up perfectly next to each other.
Was this going to be where I was punished by him or did he think getting caught by Cole was enough? Was he going to want to talk right now and give me another chance to explain myself? And with the phone destroyed, was he going to get me another tracker?
Speaking of which, I was just now realizing: How did he find me? And so quickly? I didn't have the tracker and Dylan had driven off. Was this all really a test and Ryder truly had been watching me the entire time?
I shivered. It seemed everyone was watching me and it was making my skin crawl.
I shook my head and licked my lips, hugging the tote bag to my chest as I watched Ryder grab himself a water bottle from the fridge. He didn't look at me as he uncapped it, stared down at the contents, and then looked up. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I blinked. Okay, yes. He's mad. My eyes shifted before I forced myself to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry–"
He screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it on the island counter behind him. "Don't," he cut me off sharply, huffing. "Don't be sorry. Be better."
"I was listening," my voice sounded so unsteady compared to his, but I felt as such. "I was at the elevators but he grabbed me."
"You didn't fight him off."
Goosebumps raised on my skin. "How did you know that?"
"I assumed." His eyes narrowed. "You just confirmed it."
He has me there. I looked away for a moment, shaking my head. I didn't want to cry again but I felt the moisture brewing. I softened my voice, hearing the tremble. "How did you even find me? I didn't have the phone."
"I guessed," he sounded less than pleased. Disgusted, actually. "I thought to myself: Where is the first place Mae would run away to? And then I remembered your pitiful obsession with your abusive ex-boyfriend."
My vision blurred but I blinked the tears back. "He's never–"
"And then I thought to myself: No. Mae's a little fucked in the head but she wouldn't be that stupid," he clipped, closing the distance between us in a few short strides. He grabbed my chin with his thumb and forefinger and he turned my head to force my eyes to his. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."
My heart jumped, blood pressure rising as I had my head now tilted back. I didn't say anything, letting his words shove me under the surface of guilt and hurt that was starting to overwhelm me. Stupid. The word seemed to stick like glue to the insides of my brain, carving itself there. Stupid.
Ryder's eyes frosted with ice. "I have known you for one week and already know that you cannot be trusted. You're not a child and yet I clearly have to treat you like one."
My voice was small as I tried to push his hand off my face. "I didn't a-ask for... I... I never," but I couldn't get any words out. They lodged in my throat, refusing to become audible because I wanted to shove down the events of today in the sand and never have to unearth them again. So I pushed them away, letting Ryder continue to think the worst of me.
At my failed sentence he dropped his hand from my chin, another single shake of his head. He grabbed my tote bag from me, making me flinch, and grabbed the destroyed phone from inside. "This was expensive."
I could only imagine. "I... I'll pay you back."
"Yeah?" he tilted his head, trying to catch my eyes again. "With what money? With what income?"
"I don't know."
"What do you know?"
Nothing, apparently. I shook my head, anxiety ridden, and my fingers twisted the hair tie on my wrist again until it cut into my flesh. "Please stop yelling at me."
"I'm not yelling," which was true, he wasn't. Yet I couldn't think of anything else to say. I didn't like how he was holding me up with his accusations and wasn't believing me when I was trying to defend myself. He huffed out another breath, shoving the tote back into my hands after tossing the broken phone back inside. "Would you have fought him? If I hadn't shown up?"
"I was fighting him," this time I looked up at him so he could see the truth in my eyes. "I was begging him to stop. I was trying to get him off of me but... but I'm not–I'm not strong. I was doing the best I could."
The brown in his eyes turned darker, deeper, angrier. That clearly wasn't good enough. The words were written all over his face and he didn't have to say a thing. I could see it, feel it, taste it. His judgment. And it felt like a knife twisting in my chest as his blame settled inside me, churning my stomach, squeezing my lungs. He was right; It hadn't been good enough. I could have fought harder, maybe. I could have screamed louder, I think. I was under pressure and clearly couldn't operate better because of it.
I twisted the hair tie harder on my wrist, trying to feel pain there but not being able to. There was no sort of explanation that Ryder would deem acceptable so I whispered, "May I please go lay down?" knowing that if I spoke any louder my voice would crack. "I don't feel very well."
"No," Ryder shook his head. "We're still talking."
"I don't want to talk anymore, please," I twisted harder. "You're never going to believe me about this."
"I'd believe you if I could trust you," he snapped back, shaking his head and switching to a new line of questioning. "How far did he get? Was what I walked in on how far he got?"
"Y-yes."
"Has he ever done something like that with you before?"
"No."
"And will you forgive him?" he cocked a brow, the disdain evident.
For the first time in a really long time, I didn't have to think about my answer. Cole had crossed a line today, one that I didn't think possible and one that made me scared. Scared of him, of what he could do because he was obviously much stronger than me, and clearly hadn't cared about my wellbeing.
I shook my head because I couldn't let this one go. There had been a lot over the years that he had been able to do to me because we were in a relationship and because he loved me. He was supposed to have loved me. I let so much happen because that's what love was but this wasn't supposed to be something I let slide, I don't think. Not when it made me feel so small and terrified. His love had reduced me, trampled me, chewed me up and spit me out. Wasn't love supposed to be more magical than this?
It never has been. Cole and I's love was like my mom and dad's love. It was the only love I'd ever known, where it starts off magic before turning into something sour. Is that what love was? Something that would always start off tender but then as soon as someone loved me it would turn into this? Or was this maybe some sort of trial period that would make or break a relationship and ours had broken? Whatever it was, I couldn't handle it anymore. Maybe love just wasn't for me at all.
I don't want to love anyone anymore, and I certainly don't want anyone to love me. Not if this was it.
I let out an unsteady breath, holding my tears at bay. "I don't want to be with him anymore." They were shaky words, clearly spoken with uncertainty yet surety at the same time, but they seemed to satisfy Ryder despite not being a direct answer to his question.
"Good," he let out his own sigh through his nose and the tension between us felt heavy for a different reason now. He suddenly cleared his throat. "What he did today was not okay."
I nodded my head, feeling a tear roll down my cheek before I hastily wiped it away with the back of my hand. The words you cry too much echoed in my brain for a split second, remembering when Ryder had said that to me. Clearly he was right.
"I'm going to take care of it. Of him." I noticed his fists clench at his sides. "I am angry with you, but his behaviour today is not on you. Do you understand?"
Not really. But I didn't say that. Despite that red-haired girl from last week that I had seen, Lily I think, I didn't think Ryder knew about what a relationship required of the parties involved. He didn't understand that boyfriends were supposed to punish their girlfriends. Today was clearly too far on Cole's part, but everything else—the biting, the choking, the yelling—was normal enough.
I nodded my head anyways, opting not to speak on that.
"Good," he mumbled again. I thought that would be the end of it, but Ryder was ducking his head and trying to catch my eye before I had the chance to ask to leave again. "Is there something else you need?"
I blinked. The question threw me off so much that my heart skipped a beat. Is there something else I need? I couldn't remember the last time I had been asked that before and I let go of the hair tie I was twisting, letting it rest. "What?"
"Is there something you need?" He repeated the question, as if doing so offered the clarity I needed, though it hadn't.
I swallowed thickly, my throat still dry. "I don't know what that means."
Ryder tilted his head, eyes flitting down before back up. "Do you need," he huffed, looking... uncomfortable? I'd never seen him look remotely uncomfortable before. "A hug or some shit?"
My eyes widened and I had to bite my lip. A hug? Ryder was offering a hug? When was the last time I had a hug?
I fidgeted, my eyes trying to now find the lie in his own.
Ryder looked displeased for a fraction of a second before he pressed his lips together, his stone-cold facade clicking back into place. It took a long moment before he raised a brow and locked his jaw. Begrudgingly he sighed and said, "Just this once. I don't like to be touched," as if he could tell that I was skeptical.
I sniffled, wiping under my eyes and nodding my head. Ryder wasn't the nicest person by any means but he saved me tonight. It might be naive of me to wipe his slate half clean, but after everything that just happened, I think I really needed a hug.
Ryder looked to have ground his teeth before opening his arms a fraction, but it was enough. I stepped closer to him slowly. His gaze sharpened but he didn't protest, and I stepped a little closer again. "Are.. are you sure?"
"No," he clipped. "Do you want the fucking hug or not?"
I shivered at the tone that coated his words, something that felt a little dangerous. I gave a quick nod, still wanting it though, and took the final step needed to close the distance between us. I stood on my toes, draping my arms around his neck gingerly and burying my head there too. His entire body was tense like stone but I tried to find comfort in his embrace. Was it even an embrace? His arms remained at his sides and his head only seemed to drop the tiniest bit, his chin resting against my shoulder.
But just like that, my body seemed to melt into his as I inhaled his citrus scent, finding the solace I needed. He placed one hand on the small of my back, his fingers curling against my shirt before gently grabbing the fabric. It felt like he was getting ready to tug me off but he didn't just yet, allowing me a few long seconds in his embrace.
I held him tighter, my chest feeling hollow all of a sudden and I felt the overwhelming urge to start crying again. I felt the slight tremble in my arms, the shakiness of my breath that was embarrassingly close to Ryder's ear, and the painful throbbing in my sternum.
Ryder gripped my shirt a little more firmly, dipping his head a little lower so that his nose nuzzled the crook of my neck. It was a whisper of a touch and maybe he did it by accident but I felt it, and the warmth it somehow exuded shot straight to my heart and raised goosebumps up my arms.
It didn't last forever, and suddenly Ryder was pulling on my shirt and lifting his head from my neck. "Alright. Hug done."
I didn't want to push his boundaries and quickly retracted my arms, stepping away and giving him space. The loss of warmth brought back the tremble in my hands so I laced my fingers together to hide it. "T-thank you. That was nice–"
"Don't push it" he cut me off, rolling his shoulders back as if he were shaking off my touch. It was clear that the hug didn't bring him the same sort of peace that it brought me, and I felt a sharp stab of hurt that I tried not to take too personally since he had already established not liking physical touch. "I'm still angry with you."
I didn't know what I had done for him to be angry because I really was listening to Dylan and heading up to the apartment. The situation worked against me, but I wasn't going to ask him what I had done wrong. I usually was in the wrong with most things anyways. "Okay," I whispered, looking away. "May I please go now? I'm tired."
Ryder didn't ignore or object this time around and what I got was a single nod as he turned back towards the kitchen. "Fine."
I didn't waste a second longer, scurrying from him and into the bedroom that was meant to be something mine. As soon as I shut the door I felt the weight return to my shoulders, to my lungs, to my chest. A pressure that had been lifted just seconds ago but had returned now that I was alone.
I pushed myself off the door, noticing my hands were still shaking. Stop it, I tried to scold myself. Push it down. Push it out. Push it away.
The wetness was back in my eyes but with the door shut I let it silently run down my cheeks, shuffling around the room until I got to my suitcase. I lowered to the floor, digging around in it before I found a belt. My fingers fumbled with it as I fed it through the loops of my jeans, securing the buckle as tight as it could possibly go, my waist cinching painfully.
Next I grabbed the pillow and top sheet, crawling under the cot and pulling the sheet and the pillow underneath with me until nothing was poking out from the sides. I shifted, trying to find the most comfortable position on the floor before settling.
With my jeans still on, breathing laboured, I buried my head into the pillow. Maybe Ryder could hear me crying into it, maybe he couldn't. But I didn't stop sobbing, even after the sun went down and my night light flickered on.
* * *
"What the fuck are you doing?"
I jumped at the sound of Ryder's voice, my cheeks warming. "Oh! Good morning," I forced a smile I didn't really feel, catching his eye and staring up at him. "Have you slept well? I can get started on breakfast now that you're up."
"What the fuck are you doing under the table?" he reiterated, raising a brow. "And what the hell are you wearing?"
I looked down at the short, black maid outfit that I always wore when I did cleaning and housework, and I frowned. The trim was lace and when I was standing, it was a reasonable length by stopping just past mid-thigh. There was a white apron tied around the waist and a white headband that matched it.
Underneath the dress, however, I was wearing a pair of jean shorts I hadn't worn in years, my belt securing them underneath the dress so they went unnoticed. It wasn't much but it helped me feel a little bit safer based on yesterday's events. Events that I did not want to remember. I was having such a hard time forgetting, in fact, that I had gotten up early this morning and had spent the better part of it cleaning the kitchen. Cleaning was relaxing for me and with my lack of sleep and buzzing mind, it helped center my focus elsewhere.
Elsewhere was currently under the kitchen table, where I was sitting on my knees with a rag and a cleaning spray next to me. I had found it in the cupboards under the island counter and assumed they were for cleaning purposes so I had gotten to work. I had wiped down all the chairs and counter tops and when I had finished the surface of the table, I noticed some dirt on the legs. After wiping those down, I noticed some dust on the underside of the table. Sure, we didn't eat on this side of it but it was a part of the table regardless. Therefore, it was something that needed to be cleaned.
"These are my cleaning clothes. Can't you tell?"
"You look like a maid-dressed stripper."
My eyes widened and I looked back down at my clothes. "What? No I don't."
Ryder rolled his eyes. "On your knees and looking up at me in that? Yes, you do."
My neck coloured red and I looked away from him. "Well I just finished cleaning under here anyways," and I quickly crawled out and got to my feet, brushing out my skirt. "There. Does it look better now that I'm standing?"
The way Ryder's eyes cast down the length of my body then back up again was all the answer I needed.
I cleared my throat. "I was just about to make you some breakfast. Do you have a preference for something?" I brushed by him without meeting his eyes again, hearing him turn and feeling his stare on the back of my head. "I can make anything—what are you doing!"
Ryder had grabbed the hem of my dress to stop me, his fingers brushing my thighs right before the hem of my shorts. His touch on my skin immediately shocked me like a bolt of electricity, but that was probably because it had startled me.
Ryder tugged on the lace hemline with a look of disgust. "This is a sex outfit."
"No it's not," I grabbed his wrist in one hand and my dress in the other, trying to tug the two apart. "Let go."
"This fabric can easily be torn," he said in an obvious yet annoyed tone. He let go of the hem only to grab at the attached apron. "These pockets aren't even real."
"Most pockets on women's clothing aren't real," I grabbed his wrist again. "That doesn't mean that this is a sex outfit."
"Where did you buy this?"
"I didn't. Cole bought it for me and told me to wear it for cleaning so I don't get my regular clothes dirty."
Ryder rolled his eyes, something seeming to click. "Uh-huh. Yeah, I bet. Is there a matching nurse outfit he gets you to wear for when he stubs his toe?"
My cheeks burned hotter. "Why is that relevant?"
The sound Ryder let out was a mix between a scoff and something incredulous. "Fucking ridiculous. And you're telling me you've never had sex in this before?"
"Can you please let go now?" I said as an answer instead, because that wasn't relevant. You can technically have sex in anything so why was this outfit supposed to determine—I shut off that line of thinking. This was my cleaning outfit, for crying out loud! Thankfully Ryder let go of it a moment later, finally allowing me to step back in the direction of the fridge. "Thank you. I'm just trying to ask you what you'd like for breakfast."
He brushed a hand through his hair, still looking damp from the shower I had heard him take, and making the bottom of his maroon t-shirt rise. The sliver of skin between it and the tops of his dark gray jeans distracted me more than I would've liked as he questioned, "Breakfast?"
"Yes," I gave him a tight-lipped smile, hoping it looked a little more genuine to him. "I had told you that I'd do some cooking and cleaning so I figure it's time I'm good for my word."
"Right," he didn't sound convinced. "And you feel you'd best complete those tasks dressed in a sex out–"
"Do you like omelets?" I cut him off, trying not to be fazed by his brazen choice of words. "I can make you an omelet."
"No."
"French toast?" I tried again.
"I don't like french toast."
I refrained from shuddering because who doesn't like french toast? "How about pancakes?" My fingers played with the hair tie on my wrist, hoping that he wouldn't shoot down this option as well. "I'm really good at those."
Ryder's eyes shifted in the daylight, the rays of the sun coming in from his lounge room window lighting up the entire space and making him look a little less scary. Or maybe he just wasn't trying to be scary. I couldn't be sure. His maroon shirt did catch nicely in the light, however, loose enough for movement but fitted enough to be able to tell how fit he was beneath it.
Ryder narrowed his eyes at me, probably for the change in topic and the persistence to make him something to eat. "You no longer want to discuss the events of yesterday?"
I forced my smile to remain intact. "Nothing happened yesterday. There's nothing to discuss right now except for whether or not you want some pancakes."
Thankfully he took the hint. "If I agree to pancakes are you going to lay nude across the kitchen table so that I can eat it off of you?"
"No!" I cried out, absolutely mortified at the suggestion. "Absolutely not!"
"Fine," he said, though I thought he'd reject the offer at my refusal. Another look at him and I registered that he was being sarcastic, which made me feel a little better. "Pancakes, then."
I let out a breath. "Perfect. Okay... and where do you keep your–" before I could finish the sentence Ryder was letting out his own sigh and moving from his spot, going to different cupboards and collecting the different ingredients and equipment without me having to ask. He pulled a pan from a low cupboard to the left of the oven, and the dry ingredients from a high cupboard to the right of the fridge.
There was a drawer at the island that he collected the measuring cups from before he finally turned back to me. "I don't care what you use, but put shit back where you find it."
I was already ahead of him on that one, storing the information of where I saw him retrieve all the items to the back of my brain for now. "I understand."
Ryder gave me a look like he didn't trust I was being sincere, and his eyes once again tracked up and down the length of my attire. He let out a huff, not saying anything and stalking off towards his bedroom. When he shut the door behind him I let myself deflate a little, relaxing at being by myself.
Though I didn't waste time standing around or letting the absolute weirdness of the entire interaction settle. Cooking was an easy enough task and one that I could allow myself to focus completely on instead of anything else, and I felt a sense of ease at the familiarity of the kitchen layout since it was similar to the one in my previous apartment. I sprung into action.
It didn't take long before I had the batter finished, adding a few drops of vanilla extract that I found in order to give it a subtle vanilla flavour. After mixing it in I used a spoon to pour the batter onto a heated frying pan, smiling to myself when I didn't settle for a simple circular shape. Instead, I added more batter to some corners of the pan, a rectangular shape to connect others, and stopped myself short of bouncing for joy when the shapes I was creating came out perfect after flipping it over.
I repeated the process a few more times. Ryder was quite fit, something I knew from first-hand experience and something that was pretty obvious. He was tall, too. Clearly he'd need a lot of pancakes in order to get full. He'd need nutrients as well, now that I was thinking about it.
I quickly went to the fridge, opening it up and spotting some raspberries and blueberries. Taking some of each and placing them in a bowl, I rinsed them off, patted them dry, and cut them into tiny pieces. I used them for the next few batches, making five raspberry pancake shapes and five blueberry to add to the five plain ones I had already made. Fifteen pancakes seemed like a reasonable amount for someone of his stature, right?
Once that was finished, I plated each stack on its own dish, set them on the table, then put an empty plate where I was assuming Ryder would sit. I retrieved the maple syrup and some honey and jam that I found and set those on the table too, finishing off the set with some cutlery, a napkin, and a glass of water.
I smiled at the spread and finally deemed it presentable enough. Surely Ryder would see my efforts and hopefully realize that I bring something to the table in terms of being an adequate living partner. After yesterday, and the difficult week we've had as we both tried to adjust to this living situation, hopefully this could show him that I was quite capable.
Suddenly there was a sharp and quick set of knocks on the front door, making me jump in my skin. My head snapped towards it and, though I was certainly far enough, I took a small step away from the source of the sound. Ryder never mentioned expecting any guests over, did he? Wouldn't that be something he let me know about, in case he wanted me out of sight?
My thoughts ceased when Ryder swung open his bedroom door and stepped out, immediately calling out, "You have a key, let yourself in," as he made his way through the lounge room. He strode over to the kitchen table, his eyes meeting mine briefly before looking at the spread on the table.
"I just finished," I said by way of greeting, then, "You didn't mention anyone would be stopping by."
"I don't have to. It's my place."
He had a point there. "I know. I'm just saying that I would've dressed more appropriately had I known."
His eyes flickered over my clothes again, that same look of disgust evident. "You said there wasn't anything wrong with your sex outfit."
"Cleaning outfit," I corrected, trying not to let his persistence on this matter get to me. "And there isn't anything wrong with it for cleaning and chores." I took my bottom lip between my teeth as whoever was on the opposite side of the apartment was slotting their key into the lock. "But outside company isn't supposed to see me like this. I look sloppy."
"Because it's a sex outfit."
Heat crawled up my neck again, but this time it was more for irritation than for embarrassment. "Stop calling it that."
Ryder didn't care and my attention returned to the front door when it suddenly opened and Dylan strutted inside, pushing the door shut behind him carelessly. His dark brown jeans and hoodie that was a deep plum colour did well to continue exuding his nonchalance as he looked around, spotting Ryder and I over by the table and heading in our direction. "You know, sometimes I like to feel like a welcomed guest. I can't do that if I have to do frivolous things like opening a door for myself."
"Then go somewhere else," Ryder didn't stop staring at me despite directing his words at his friend. "Do not beg me for a key and then complain about having to use one."
"It's the principle of the—" he stopped himself short as he had gotten closer to Ryder and I, his light brown eyes roaming my outfit with shocked amusement. "Well then! I didn't know I was intruding on something!"
I blushed at the glee laced in his words. "H-hi, Dylan."
"I never took either of you for the role-playing type," I felt the weight of his gaze as it traveled slowly over every inch of my cleaning clothes, neither hesitant nor hasty. "But this looks mighty interest—ow! The fuck!" Dylan was cut off by a smack to the back of his head that Ryder delivered, causing Dylan to try and shove Ryder back. "What did I say about hitting me?"
"What did I say about saying stupid shit?" Ryder rebutted, shaking his head.
"Look at what she's wearing!" he gestured to my outfit, and I crossed my arms over my chest as if it could shield me. He then noticed the food on the table. "And she cooked for you? This is very Pleasantville."
I didn't know what Pleasantville was or whether his words were a compliment or not, but it didn't really sound too nice. "It's just breakfast."
"This looks like a gourmet meal," Dylan continued, sounding impressed now. "I think I might have you come stay with me tonight if this is the—" Dylan stopped himself short when Ryder made another move to hit him, pressing his lips together and stepping back out of the line of fire. "Okay! I got it!"
Ryder turned to me, clearly irritated. "Go on. Tell him why you're wearing that."
I shuffled on my feet, not liking the spotlight. My eyes bounced between the two of them, Ryder looking less than impressed and Dylan raising his brow, completely amused. I looked back to Ryder though, finding that I was seeking permission for something that I didn't even know. I haven't done anything wrong... right? "It's... These are my cleaning clothes."
Dylan choked on a laugh and Ryder hit the back of his head again to cut it short. "Hey! Stop hitting me!"
"No."
"You know," Dylan wagged his finger in his friend's face. "I'm not entirely convinced that this isn't some weird type of role-playing shit." His eyes cast down to the food on the table again, but this time something seemed to register. "Are those dinosaur pancakes?"
Ryder's head snapped down to take a look for himself and I couldn't help the instant smile that grew on my lips because, "Yes! You can tell?"
"These are absolutely adorable, angel," Dylan let out a laugh but he seemed pretty pleased. "Knocked it out of the park."
My chest swelled and I felt a little excited with the praise. "I made different kinds, too. These ones are blueberry and these ones are raspberry. I also just have plain ones, since I wasn't sure about preferences."
"Well I'll be darned," Dylan slung an arm around Ryder's shoulders to which he shoved Dylan off. "Now this is service with a smile. And dressed as a maid." He chuckled at Ryder. "And we're certain we're not role-playing any fantasies here?"
"Shut the fuck up before I shove you out of the window," Ryder snipped, turning to look at me. "Do I look fucking five to you?"
The harshness of his tone dimmed a bit of the joy that I had just felt from Dylan's praise, but I tried not to let it get to me. "No... but I thought you'd like them. Most people like dinosaurs and I thought it could be fun."
"This is stupid," he shook his head, pulling out his chair anyways. "Why are there so many?"
"Because," I bit my bottom lip, shrugging my shoulders. I had thought he'd be a little more happy with the clear effort I had put into this meal. Maybe not thanking me for it, but I certainly didn't expect him to have so many issues. "I figured that you eat a lot since you're, you know... in shape, or whatever."
Dylan let out another choked laugh, trying to disguise it with a cough but clearly not succeeding. "You think Ryder can eat fifteen pancakes?"
Not anymore. "I'm sorry."
Ryder seemed to clench his jaw at my apology but Dylan gave my arm a soft nudge, drawing my attention. "No need for that, Mae. This all looks great."
But the reassurance did nothing to offset the doubt suddenly creeping in. This was supposed to be the start of me pulling my weight around here. This was also supposed to be somewhat of a thank-you to Ryder after everything that had happened yesterday. Judging by the look on his face, it didn't seem like this was going over too well, especially now that he looked like he was forcing himself to take some of the pancakes. Maybe it was a bit much.
My fingers grasped the hair tie on my wrist and twisted. "It's too much. You're right." I looked at Dylan. "I don't know what I was thinking."
"I'll grab a plate and help him polish them off," he suggested with a grin before moving towards the cupboards for a plate. "Fifteen pancakes between us is the perfect amount."
"I'll get started on the dishes," I mumbled, turning and heading toward the sink. My nice gesture had completely backfired on me and Ryder was no doubt annoyed that I completely embarrassed him in front of his friend. Maybe he'd give me another chance to prove myself when it was time to make lunch? Or dinner? I could only hope that he wouldn't tell me I couldn't cook anymore.
And what if he didn't even like how the pancakes tasted? That would mean I made so much only for it all to go to waste.
I shook my head, trying to not dwell. My next task was the dishes and I needed to at least ensure that I did those correctly.
I spent the next five minutes washing up the dishes that I had used, taking great care with each item. I found myself relaxing into the task, finding peace in the sound of the water flowing off the dishes. Once one dish was washed of its soapy residue I placed it on a drying rack on the counter, and once the dishes were completely finished, I dried each dish using one of the clean dish towels I had found underneath the sink.
As I did so, Ryder and Dylan ate at the table and talked. I tried to tune them out so I wasn't eavesdropping or intruding on their business, and I quietly began putting away the dried dishes in the exact places I remembered Ryder retrieving them from.
Once that was complete, I used a paper towel to wipe the counters of crumbs or residue, then used a second paper towel to dry the sink. It was then that I heard the scraping of chairs and looked up to see Ryder and Dylan standing from the table.
I tried not to sigh in relief to find that all three stacks were completely gone, the plates stacked on the table with Ryder and Dylan's dishes on top. Without a word, I moved to the table and collected the dishes, going back over to the sink to place them there. I returned to the table and began grabbing the honey, syrup, and other items I had set out, returning everything to its rightful place before grabbing a cloth and wiping down the surface.
When I finished and turned back to the sink to start on the new batch of dishes, I paused, frowning at seeing Ryder standing there and already doing them. Dylan had taken a seat on one of the stools at the island counter, typing away at his phone.
I stepped a little closer. "You don't have to do that. I'm here."
Ryder didn't even spare me a glance, rinsing off the plate in his hands. "You need to change. We're going out."
"We are?" A spark of excitement wormed its way into my chest, happy to note that my outing privileges hadn't been revoked. My curiosity also piqued. "Are we all going?"
"You bet we are," Dylan joined in, grinning widely at Ryder's frown. "The three of us have some shopping to do."
Shopping? A slow smile was spreading across my face. I couldn't remember the last time I had actually been out shopping by myself, or the last time I had purchased new clothes on my own. I always found joy in looking through racks and trying on clothes, picturing the endless outfits from a single top.
The glee must have been written on my face because Ryder's expression seemed to sour. "Have you eaten?"
"No," I reassured, still smiling. "Of course not."
"What do you mean of course not?" Dylan drew my gaze to him now, distracting me for a second when he put down his phone to give me his full attention.
"I haven't gotten permission yet."
Dylan's brows shot up. "Permission from who?"
"From..." but my words tapered off as I realized that I was no longer in a relationship anymore, therefore I didn't need permission. Technically. This was Ryder's home with his rules, and he never set any in regard to food. He'd been giving me meals for the past few days, but I had just assumed that was because I had been being good.
But this morning? With how much he had hated breakfast?
I looked at Ryder, noticing he had turned off the tap and was narrowing his eyes at me. "I suppose I forgot to ask you if I could—"
"You made fifteen pancakes and not one for yourself?" he huffed rhetorically, placing the last plate in his hands into the drying rack. "You don't need my permission to eat. We've been over this already."
Have we? I couldn't recall. "Oh. I guess I thought... forgot. I guess I forgot." I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, tapping it there for a moment. "I'm stupid. I don't know why I'm so stupid."
Ryder raised a brow at my words, the annoyance in his expression changing to something I couldn't catch before hardening again. "Will you eat berries?"
"No, thank you," I played with the hair tie on my wrist. "I haven't earned it."
"Earned?" Dylan raised his other brow, tilting his head as well.
"Breakfast was clearly such a mess," I smiled, trying to take the earlier criticisms gracefully. "I don't know what I was thinking with dinosaur pancakes. And so many of them, at that. It was far from perfect."
"They tasted pretty phenomenal," he grinned at me again, that really nice, full one. "Best pancakes I've ever eaten."
The compliment didn't seem to cling to anything but I smiled tightly. I turned to Ryder when I said, "I can do better. I promise," hoping he could hear how much I meant it.
He blinked at me. "They tasted fine," before he turned back towards the fridge, grabbing the raspberries and blueberries, some vanilla yogurt and then returning to the island. He grabbed a bowl and a spoon before finding some granola in a cupboard, speaking again when he was back and standing next to me at the island. "When you're finished we're heading out. You need new clothes."
My eyes widened a fraction. "I'm going to get new clothes?"
"There's an event tonight," he went on, spooning some yogurt into a bowl before washing some of the berries. "Current evidence," he gave my cleaning clothes a pointed look, "has led me to believe that you don't have clothes that will meet this particular dress code."
Ignoring the jab, I sighed softly. "What's the event? I have clothes for a lot of occasions."
Dylan was the one to answer me, once again drawing my attention. "Yeahhh, no offence angel, but I doubt you'd have what we're looking for."
"Is it a fancy dinner?" I supplied, confused now. Cole had purchased me a nice evening dress for when he would take me to nice restaurants. I'm sure with the right shoes, I'd be able to dress it up or even down depending on where we were going. Cole had also said I looked best in white—the picture of mature innocence. That seemed like an oxymoron to me so I hadn't really been sure what he meant by it. "I have a nice dress."
"Is it red?"
"No," I shook my head as Ryder reached behind me to grab the bar stool to my left, his arm brushing my back lightly. I tensed but otherwise didn't react to it until he pulled it out, nudging me to take a seat. When I slid onto it, he placed the bowl filled with yogurt, berries, and granola in front of me with a spoon. "Thank you, Ryder."
He didn't react to my gratitude, which I was noticing he must have an aversion to. "You need something red for tonight. And something less than a dress."
"Less fancy than a dress?" I questioned before spooning some of the dish into my mouth, loving the flavours and smiling to be eating.
"Not less fancy," Dylan corrected. "Just... less."
I wasn't exactly sure what that really meant. Maybe a short dress instead of a long one? Or maybe something a little more risque, like a cropped top and a mini skirt? That was much more scandalous since my midriff and more of my thighs would be showing.
"Where did you say we were going?" I clarified after taking another bite of my food, seeing Dylan and Ryder share a look. A secretive look.
"Don't worry about that right now," Dylan supplied, brushing a hand through his hair and sitting up a little straighter. "You can walk in heels, right?"
"Yes... I don't really prefer them, though. I'll look suggestive."
Dylan and Ryder shared another look, the former looking to be holding in a laugh. "Suggestive?"
"Yes," I explained. "Girls who wear heels are asking for—"
"Don't finish that statement," Ryder cut me off, "And don't be spewing any of your bullshit views while you're out in public with me. No one with common sense thinks like you."
Ouch. I didn't fully understand what he meant by that but the insult was blatant. It looked like he was waiting for me to object, so I felt comfortable enough to do so. "I don't know what that's supposed to mean but it didn't sound kind."
"Good. I wasn't trying to be kind."
"I was just responding to the conversation and letting you know that heels are suggestive." The words had bubbled up and out of my mouth before I could realize, and though I was surprised I had kept going, I pushed forward. "I'm not comfortable with short or tight outfits, either."
Ryder rolled his eyes at that. "That's unfortunate. I don't care."
"And the colour red on me is a little bolder than I'm comfortable with."
"Yeah? You want me to dress you in white instead and hand you a chastity belt, prude?"
"Give her a break, Westy," Dylan groaned, getting to his feet and cutting off the retort on the tip of my tongue. He stretched his arms above his head before dropping them back to his sides. "Don't stress about Ryder, Mae. I'm sure we can come to a compromise on what you'll wear tonight."
Ryder grumbled under his breath, turning away, "You'll wear what I tell you to wear."
I couldn't help the shiver that travelled up my spine at his statement, the words all too familiar yet from a different voice. "Yes, sir," rolled off my tongue in response, and I felt Ryder tense.
My eyes widened a fraction.
Ryder turned back to look at me. "What did you just—"
I slid from the bar stool and brushed off my skirt. "I'll go and get changed now," and I scurried from the room without another thought.
Once in the safe confines of my room, I let out a nervous breath, shaking my head. I just called Ryder sir! He must think I'm ridiculous! But it had been such a natural response to what he had said. Surely he'd just ignore the slip-up, right?
I rubbed my arm, trying not to think about it. I was always one to dwell on things and no one else here seemed to be that way. Maybe that's what Ryder meant when he had said that no one thinks like me.
Sighing, I moved from the door and pulled the headband off my head, figuring I should start getting ready for this outing. It didn't take long for me to get changed into some loose blue jeans and a casual light pink long-sleeve, my belt cinched tightly around my waist and a light pink beret in my hair. I had already done some light makeup this morning before I had begun cleaning, so I touched that up a bit to ensure any lingering and exposed bruises were covered.
When I ventured from my room and to the bathroom, it seemed as though Ryder and Dylan had gone into Ryder's room, their voices muffled behind the closed door. I continued with my routine, brushing my teeth, using the bathroom, and making sure my hair was nice and brushed.
By the time it had been thirteen minutes, I was standing by the front door with my shoes on, waiting for Ryder and Dylan to be ready to leave. Ryder seemed to have washed my breakfast dishes after I had fled the kitchen, leaving me some extra time to myself.
When they emerged, six minutes later, Ryder looked grumpier than he was earlier, though Dylan looked more amused. When they joined me at the door, Dylan was the only one who spoke to me. "Ready for a shopping spree?"
His smile, as per usual, was infectious. "Yes, but," I moved aside for them to slip their shoes on as well. "I don't have any money for shopping so I'm not entirely sure—"
"Don't worry about that," Dylan winked, Ryder grumbling something under his breath as he grabbed his keys and opened the door. "Let's just get to the shops and go from there, alright?"
I felt a sense of weariness at the vagueness of his words, and when I saw the scowl on Ryder's face I knew he wouldn't tell me anything about this. Still, as we walked down the hall and towards the elevator, I made sure to walk a few paces behind the two of them, allowing their low conversation to continue without my ear to intrude.
I didn't know what this shopping trip was meant to entail, nor did I have a clue what the event tonight was going to be. The lack of knowing is what was making me a little bit more anxious than I would have liked because I wanted to be prepared. Without preparation, who's to say I won't embarrass Ryder among the people there? Who's to say I won't embarrass myself?
I was so in my head that I didn't realize the elevator had arrived until I felt Ryder's hand at the small of my back, guiding me forward wordlessly. I could feel the warmth of his hand through my shirt, something pleasant tingling up my spine as I walked forward and into the elevator.
When I turned to look up at Ryder he was still chatting with Dylan, none the wiser to my gaze. Or maybe he was and he was just ignoring me. But he was certainly none the wiser to the thoughts in my head. Thoughts that were telling me that maybe he wasn't as bad as he seemed.
My fingers dropped from the hair tie I hadn't realized I had twisted, finding home in the space between where Ryder and I existed.
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