c h a p t e r e l e v e n
tw: google translate Spanish + mention of non-con
I had never been diagnosed with anxiety.
Sure, my leg bounced from time to time, or I twirled my hair for a couple hours straight, or I fidgeted with my fingers when it was apparent that my stress levels were rising. Yes, I admittedly got nervous more often than not and I had been told once or twice that my need to clean things was a bit anal for the average person. But did I have anxiety? Could I claim it was something I struggled with? No, I couldn't. I had never been diagnosed with it and therefore I could continue living with the ignorance that I was just prone to nervousness because I was schooled to aim for perfection.
This was something Ryder struggled to believe.
"Stop it."
"What?" I blinked, flinching when he reached across the center console of the car and grabbed my left wrist. His grip wasn't tight by any means but was certainly warming my skin.
He glanced at me and then back to the road, the line of traffic moving slowly. "You're anxious."
"No," I mumbled, tugging at my wrist for him to free it. He didn't. "I'm not."
"You're cutting off circulation when you do that."
"Do what?"
"Twist that hair tie," he said it like it were obvious but I hadn't even realized I had started doing it again. One glance down at my lap and I saw that my right fingers were inches from my wrist, confirming Ryder's accusation. But it wasn't anxiety. It was nerves. And I couldn't help it.
After getting back up to the apartment earlier today, Ryder had sent me off to get ready for the evening's festivities. It didn't take me long to get showered and dressed, and while the bodysuit and shorts combo was definitely outside of my comfort zone, putting them on had been the easiest part of the process.
It was what to do with my hair and makeup where I had been having some trouble.
I had gone to Ryder to ask him what he wanted me to do with it: Hair up or down? Innocent or suggestive? Pretty or adorable? With my blonde locks falling to just below my shoulder blades, I had a plethora of options for it.
However, my questions about my hair were inevitably followed by questions about what I should do with my makeup. I wasn't too well versed in any sort of heavy costume cosmetics, especially when I hadn't done much with it for the past two years. But Ryder seemed to brush it all off.
He didn't care about how I should wear my hair. He didn't care for how I did my makeup. In fact he got so annoyed he told me to 'channel my inner promiscuity' and then went off to get himself ready.
Was it my fault that I was nervous about all of this? According to Ryder, yes, but the correct answer was no. I wanted to perform well for him. I wanted him to look at me and see some sort of value. I wanted to use tonight to prove myself to him and he was making it harder by not telling me exactly how to do everything, detail by miniscule detail.
I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off my askew energy. Ryder finally let go of my wrist, letting his foot off the gas so the car rolled forward. "I wasn't doing anything with my hair tie," I mumbled, not putting much effort into trying to sell the untruth.
"You make it obvious that you don't know how to handle your anxiety."
"That's not true," I lied again, not looking at him. I tucked my hands underneath my thighs, staring at Ryder's profile as he made it to the intersection and turned right onto a lonely-looking road. The destination was his gang lair that he had kidnapped me to a week ago, and our surroundings were beginning to look slightly familiar. "I don't have anxiety. I just get nervous. Everyone gets nervous. I'm allowed to get nervous."
"Right."
I let out a huff, dropping my eyes to take in his attire. Again. I couldn't stop comparing how differently we were dressed—myself in the bodysuit and cutoff shorts, him clad in black jeans and a red zip-up hoodie. We looked like we were going to separate events altogether.
Especially because I had opted to keep my hair out and flowing and had managed to give myself a bolder makeup look. My red smokey eyes with a pigmented red glitter eyeshadow were paired with a thick coat of mascara.
So much bolder than I've done in ages.
Ryder made another right turn onto a dirt road, the surrounding area completely void of streetlights or any lighting in general. We had already been driving for quite a bit and the sky had only darkened as the time approached 9:30.
I shifted in my seat. "How long are we staying at this party, again?"
Ryder ran a hand through his brown tresses, a few loose curls landing on his forehead. "Do you have somewhere else to be?"
"No," I shrugged, recognizing the dirt road he was turning left onto now. We were nearly there, if memory served correctly. "I just want to know what I'm in for."
He sighed. "I told you earlier. We'll get there, people will see us, we'll talk to people if necessary, and then I'll leave you with Claire, who you'll convince that we're," he gripped the steering wheel tightly, jaw clenched, "dating. If you convince her, others will believe it as well."
"Right." I felt my fingers inching to my wrist again but consciously refrained, tucking them back under my thighs. "And Claire is dating that guy from last week? Kevin? They're important?"
In the beginning of our car ride, Ryder had explained a little more about tonight's affairs after realizing that I was essentially walking into this blind and in need of further preparation. He had mentioned that his gang community, whatever they were called, operated using a hierarchy system that helped visually identify rank and position. It allowed certain members to get picked to run certain jobs, like drug deals and whatever else gang people did. Gang wars, maybe? I wasn't too sure.
Kevin ranked pretty high in this hierarchy, which meant that his girlfriend Claire also had high status. If I could get her to believe Ryder and I's ruse then her stamp of approval would act as a validity badge to everyone else. Which was our goal tonight.
"Yes," Ryder confirmed, making a left turn onto gravel. In the distance, the worn-down warehouse we had visited last week was coming into view. "If she doesn't believe you, no one else will."
I nodded my head, squirming in my seat. "That's a lot of pressure."
"So don't be stupid," he clipped, leaving it at that.
In a few minutes, Ryder was pulling up to the warehouse, however, he did more than just park outside of it. He bypassed it completely, veering off the dirt road and continuing on. I frowned as I watched us pass, my look of confusion reflected in the tinted window.
It was around another ten minutes until we came across a slope in the road, one that led down into a secluded underground tunnel. Ryder turned left at the fork in the tunnel, drove straight, and turned right at the seventh intersection we came across.
I felt a sinking sort of feeling blanket my shoulders. This was feeling a lot more scary and real now that we were underground.
We entered some sort of underground parking lot, one that was packed with what had to be more than 50 cars. Ryder weaved through the parked cars and the ones still looking for a stall, pulling into a spot in the row closest to what looked to be the entrance inside.
The stall we were parked in was painted red, the one next to it painted blue, while the others were usual parking spots.
My mouth was dry as I mumbled, "This all seems a bit... much."
"Because it's illegal. What do you expect."
A shiver rolled down my spine as he kept the engine running yet unbuckled his seatbelt. I undid mine as well, watching as he turned and reached into the backseat.
When Ryder found what he was looking for he turned his upper body to face me, a flat velvet box in his hands. He looked resigned. Whatever he was about to do was clearly added to the list of things he did not want to be doing tonight.
He glanced up at me. "Turn around. Move your hair."
Why was on the tip of my tongue but I obliged, reaching up to pull my hair over my right shoulder and scooting so that my back was to him.
It sounded like he was unclasping the box, and in a few short seconds something was lowering in front of my eyes and onto my bare collarbones: A necklace.
The cuban chain was cold when it touched my skin. "Jewelry? What is this for?"
Ryder's fingertips brushed across my exposed neck as he fiddled with the clasp. "Protection."
"A necklace is meant to give me protection?" I inquired, genuinely perplexed. I looked down at it when Ryder finally pulled his fingers away and rightened myself in my seat. I touched the pads of my fingers to it, noticing that the center of the chain had a glittering letter R. "It's very pretty."
"It's platinum."
My eyes widened. "Platinum? Isn't that, like, really expensive?"
"Yes." Ryder tossed the box into the back seat before reaching an arm across the console and towards the glove compartment. His arm, though clothed by his hoodie, rested on my thighs for a second and my cheeks coloured pink. "Platinum collars are the highest status here."
I blinked, his arm still resting on my thighs as he dug around in the compartment. "Collar like... like a dog collar?"
He continued on. "Line-girls are the lowest level. They wear copper. Don't speak to them."
"Line-girls?" I briefly recalled Dylan saying that word once, when he and Ryder had been deciding what to do with me.
"Next level up are those wearing bronze. The level above that is silver, then gold, then," he finally sat up when he located a small velvet pouch. "Platinum."
The chain around my neck suddenly felt three times heavier. "So you're the highest level in this gang?"
"Yes," he pulled the drawstrings loose on the pouch in his hands, then upturned it until a thin, beaded necklace dropped into his palm. It was a stunningly similar shade of silverish blue of my necklace, and he fastened it around his own throat.
I watched as he tucked the chain inside his hoodie so it lay flat against his collarbone. "What if.. what if someone isn't wearing a necklace?"
"If they have on a black and red wrist band then they're a guest given access to the event."
Event? "What event? You didn't tell me there was an event also happening."
"Underground fighting," Ryder pulled his phone free from his pocket, unlocking it and seeming to send off a few texts as he dismissively answered me. "It's a below the belt sort of thing. Loose rules and guidelines than if it were sport-regulated."
"What? Fighting?" My widened eyes did nothing to communicate the sense of shock I was feeling. "You didn't tell me anything about there being fighting!"
"I'm telling you now."
"After you already got me here," I shook my head. "I'm not going to watch people fighting. That's not... that's absolutely ridiculous!"
Ryder set his phone down, looking over at me. "You don't exactly have a choice. I have a match tonight and you need to watch so everyone sees you."
"What?" I felt this daunting sort of storm cloud beginning to form above my head. "There's no way I'm watching people beat you up."
He scoffed. "You won't. I will be the one beating people up. Organized crime requires multiple streams of revenue—how exactly do you think we make money down here?"
"I don't know! I didn't really think about that actually," I sunk into the seat. I was told that this would just be a party we'd be going to. I had no time to mentally prepare for a whole underground fighting session! "So people really pay money to watch two people hurt each other? Seriously?"
"Yes," Ryder sighed. "Those wearing the wrist bands aren't affiliated with us but they're there for the event. If they're not wearing one then they've snuck in. And we shoot them dead."
I felt my lungs deflate. "What?" I swallowed the lump that had managed to form in my throat. Sometimes I forgot that it was Ryder who had shot those two drug dealers last week. Last week! A whole week ago and we were already living together, being together, and fake dating to de-escalate the fallout.
And I couldn't forget that he'd been standing behind me when he killed them, clearly hiding somewhere to have done it. Even then, he had made clean shots to the center of their foreheads.
Skills like that...
With my hands still shoved underneath my thighs, I exhaled shakily. "What's your favourite colour?"
I could tell without looking at him that he thought I was being annoying again, but the sudden pressure to perform perfectly was starting to creep up.
When I turned my head, his brow was raised. "Why?"
"Someone could ask me that," I bit my lip, other questions suddenly flooding into my brain. I had been so focused on the bigger details of our situation that I had completely neglected the fact that someone could try to trip us up with simpler questions. "Oh my gosh, when is your birthday? I don't know your birthday–"
"—That's classified—"
"—Or your favourite number," I stressed. My fingers itched to twist my hair tie and channel the nervous energy elsewhere. "Or your favourite season. Or what if someone asks us about our first date? Are we the type of couple to go on dates? I've never been on a date before—"
"Stop freaking out." Sounding calm as ever, he let out a harsh sigh through his nose. He didn't even look fazed by my panic nor did he seem to care that our relationship could be picked apart by a few simple questions that I had forgotten to cover. Ryder simply ran a hand through his hair, pulling back the curls that had laid against his forehead so perfectly. "No one is going to dissect this to such an extreme degree."
"Are you certain?" The chain around my neck was suddenly feeling like hands around my throat; A caressing presence for now, but a pressure was certainly being applied. "I mean c'mon. Our lives are on the line, aren't they?"
Ryder's jaw clenched and though he was staring at the steering wheel, I could see his eyes enough to notice the storm brewing in them. Brown mixed with something dark and dangerous. Like chocolate tainted with poison
He let the silence between us marinate, which only worsened my nerves. He hadn't even reassured me that our ruse wouldn't be picked apart to such a degree, and that on its own was like an alarm bell sounding off in my head.
I shifted uncomfortably, which seemed to finally get his attention. With another sigh and a quick second to roll his shoulders back, he turned his head until his eyes met my blue ones. "My favourite colour is blue."
He said it through clenched teeth, as if this tidbit of information was being pulled from him unwillingly, but somehow it made the pressure sitting on my chest ease. "Blue? What shade?"
"Light." His eyes flickered between mine, making my breath suddenly quicken. I was glad when he turned his head to look out the front window.
"Light blue," I repeated, ensuring it stuck in my brain. "Okay. Do you want to know mine?"
"Pink."
My heart skipped because he was right. How does he know that?
The question must've been written clear across my face because he rolled his eyes. "You've mentioned it before."
"I have?"
"When I took off your dress" he said in an obvious tone, a feeling of embarrassment prickling my skin. "Because of the lingerie you were wear–"
"Okay, okay, I get it," I cut him off, wanting to move on. His remembrance of such a detail was making me feel like I was naked right then and there, and I took a beat to wrack my brain for some of the more obvious questions rather than dwell. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I'd never stopped to ask him, "Wait a second. How old are you?"
Looking disinterested yet still indulging me, Ryder raised a single brow. "We fucked and you don't know how old I am?"
My skin turned crimson because embarrassingly enough, he had a point. Yet, "You don't know how old I am either."
"You're 21."
I shook my head. "No."
He blinked, eyes scanning my face as if my age was hidden in my features. "How old are you?"
"I'm 19."
He blinked again, eyes darting all over my skin. "So you're a child. I fucked a child."
My head reared back immediately. "Excuse me? I'm not a child."
"Somehow this explains so much."
"I turn 20 next month, you know."
"When?"
"May first," I responded sheepishly, already seeing the look on his face because my birth month was my name. I tried to quickly deflect. "How old are you?"
"21," he stated plainly. "A full grown adult."
I ignored the comment. "Well, when is your birthday?"
"Last week."
I frowned immediately. "What? When last week was it?"
Ryder cocked his head, as if waiting for me to be the one to answer him. Was I supposed to have known when his birthday was? No. We didn't know each other. The first time we met was—
I felt as though my face was draining of colour. "The night we met? That was your birthday?"
"And circle gets the square."
"But," I tried to think of the sequence of events that night, trying to think if he had mentioned it or not. That's the kind of thing people liked talking about, right? Their birthdays? Especially on nights out? I couldn't relate but I had observed enough people. "But you never said anything."
"Were you going to light me some candles and sing to me?" he rolled his eyes as if this subject was annoying.
"No, but we could've taken a moment to do something to acknowledge it."
"You gave me above-average head and I got to fuck you four times. Two of them raw," he said casually, settling that bored look on me again. "One could say that that was your gift to me."
"Would you stop being so brazen like that?" I looked away from him, not wanting him to witness how his comments about our one-night-stand affected me. I couldn't help the above-average comment that instantly fed the flutter in my lower belly. It was as though every mention of that night or what we had done brought me right back to that bedroom, as if whatever he mentioned was actively happening right now. Vividly. To the point where I had to clench my thighs together because I felt so exposed. Shaking my head, I decided to switch gears. "Let me just think of another question—"
"No," he cut me off, shaking his head. "I've answered enough questions and we need to get going."
My head snapped back to him. "But-but I don't—" know you enough. I don't know you enough.
Ryder pushed open the car door and took one step out. "Let's go. Now."
My nerves buzzed and I was quick to clamber out of the vehicle too, unsteady in the heels and unconfident in the short length of the cutoffs. They had ridden up whilst I was sitting and I tugged them down as Ryder shut his door and rounded the back of the car toward me.
Goosebumps raised on my skin, my collarbones feeling way more exposed. I wrung out my hands and shifted in my heels. "I'm going to be really honest and say that I don't feel like you've prepared me enough for this."
Ryder opened the door behind the passenger seat, reaching into the pocket attached to the seat's back and pulling out–
I felt my face drain of colour. "There was a gun in the back of my seat the entire time?!" I yelled, doing my best to keep it just above a whisper. There were people milling about as they got out of their own cars and headed towards the entrance. "Oh my gosh! What if I moved and it went off? Are you insane!?"
Ryder shut the door, locked his car, and tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans at his back. "The safety is on. You need to relax."
I tapped just over my heart, feeling it's pounding reverberating through my bones. "I-I feel like I'm experiencing sensory overload."
"I feel like you experience that 24/7."
I inhaled deeply, trying to regroup. When I looked at Ryder again his gaze felt heavy as he peppered it down the length of my body. My neck, the exposed part of my chest, the curve of my waist and then to my legs. He frowned at them but didn't comment.
I was momentarily distracted as I watched him pull down the zipper of his hoodie a bit, only enough to display a hint of his necklace. "Have you collected yourself? We need to get in there."
"I don't know," I swallowed thickly, glancing around the underground parking lot and noticing that some people were looking over at us in return. When I didn't spot any sort of necklaces on the women or men, a quick look at their wrists confirmed that most of these people were guests. Women that I noted sporting copper necklaces were also accompanied by men, cozying up to them and holding their arm or waist. I bit my bottom lip as my eyes slowly came back to Ryder's. "Are we going to hold hands?"
"No." He rolled his shoulders before meeting my eyes. "I don't want you touching me."
"But everyone else is holding hands."
"I don't care," he sniped, tone final. "I don't operate based on what other people are doing."
"I was just thinking about the believability of our relationship."
"And I'm just thinking about—" He cut himself off abruptly then, taking a pause to shut his eyes and breathe deeply. The response was jarring, and it only heightened my curiosity for what he had been about to say.
I tried to soften my voice as I shuffled closer, lowering my volume. "I really want to do a good job at this."
He shook his head and opened his eyes, brown pupils alit with a frustration that I didn't understand. But he didn't finish his statement.
So, without thinking too much about it—which was a strange feat for me already—I held Ryder's gaze and stepped closer to him, reaching out and hooking my right index finger with his left pinky that had otherwise been hanging at his side. I fully expected him to immediately recoil, so I tempered my surprise when he didn't.
"What about this?" I wet my lips, nervous. "Is it okay like this?"
He broke our staring contest to look down at our locked fingers, mine more actively holding on to his than his was to mine. When he tugged his hand a little to the side, mine followed. When he pulled his back to the other side, mine went along.
When he met my eyes again, the storm in them seemed to have temporarily subsided. "Fine," he relented with a sigh. "This will be fine."
This time I was the one to look down at our hands. The touch was minimal but it sent a warm sensation up my finger and then up my arm. His were the very same fingers that had touched both me and a gun. I knew them to be both gentle and rough.
"Observe those around you, and apply what you see," Ryder mumbled, and I looked up to see his eyes jumping across my appearance again as if to double check that everything was in place. He raised his left hand and fixed the positioning of the R on my necklace, the brush of his fingertips once again making me feel warm. "Are you ready?" His eyes flickered up to mine for confirmation.
I let out an unsteady breath but nodded, and he gave me one last onceover before turning and tugging me towards the entrance.
The entrance of this underground place was a large, arched door spanning about three or four meters in width and ten or more feet in height. By the doors were two bouncers, each dark skinned, tall, and muscled, wearing suits the colour of charcoal. Seeing as Ryder was able to conceal his gun easily enough, I had no doubt that these men were also carrying some sort of weapons with them.
When we got closer to the entrance, it was clear that there were two lines that formed on either side. Well, one line where those wearing the wrist bands were standing. It looked like they were showing IDs and being patted down for weapons, men and women alike.
The separate 'line' was barely even a line, but was what looked to be the side that those who had necklaces were being checked in. There were a few men in varying coloured joggers and hoodies that looked like they were pulling down their shirt collars to brandish their necklaces, and the bouncer would study them for a few seconds before allowing them to pass through.
When Ryder and I approached the entrance, however, the bouncer took only half a look at my necklace, flickered his eyes to Ryder's face, and then stepped aside for us to pass with ease.
I guess he wasn't kidding about this necklace being high status.
Once through, I couldn't help but suddenly marvel at my surroundings, the entrance funneling everyone down a long, brightly lit cement hallway. There was a slightly chilling breeze that passed through, and the echo made everyone's excited chatter and the clicking of heels amplified as we all walked through to the end of the hall where there was a fork in the path. Two different tunnels were leading to different destinations, and the one on the left had a bouncer stationed in front of it.
Looking at the people in front of us, most that were wearing wrist bands were going into the right tunnel while only people with necklaces were able to get past the bouncer to enter the left tunnel.
When it was our turn to go left, the same thing seemed to happen as before. Whereas the people in front of us were stopped for a few seconds, the bouncer only needed one look at the colour of my necklace and Ryder's face before he stepped aside without hassling us. I felt like some sort of rich VIP, and the feeling of that helped me stand a little taller in my heels.
Only a little, though, as I felt intimidated and anxious all over again once through the second tunnel and out on the other side.
I was immediately hit with a sense of familiarity upon entering the space, as it was the same exact space that I had been in almost a week ago. Ryder's gang lair.
The large, banquet-hall-esque space was populated with men wearing the same sorts of things as Ryder, and women wearing more dressed up attire, as I had noted in the parking lot area. The bar that spanned the length of the room was filled with men and women alike, though the men seemed to be the ones drinking and conversing whereas their partners draped off their arms affectionately tended to them.
The tunneled halls that branched off from the room also looked to be full of people, and I remember one of those halls leading to Ryder's private room that I had taken a shower in. It was interesting that this place was connected to the abandoned house that we had driven past, though perhaps this entrance was because it hid all the cars that parked here. Less cars meant more inconspicuous.
What seemed different this time around, or maybe I just hadn't noticed it the first time I was here, was the stationed couch areas throughout various free spaces of the room, where lots of men wearing bronze and silver necklaces occupied them. Some looked to have girlfriends wearing a matching necklace, their outfits reflecting a classy sort of dress or skirt. Other men had girls wearing copper necklaces, their clothes consisting of 85% less material than girls of 'higher status', whatever that meant.
Line-girls, as Ryder had called them. I still didn't really know what that meant but I figured I'd document my questions to ask Ryder at a later date. It was doubtful that he'd willingly talk to me about any of this but I could always try.
Ryder walked through the crowds with a clear destination in mind: One of the more secluded couch areas that was on a raised platform. The platform had a large black rug, two black arm chairs and two black couches, all in a rectangle formation. The couches made up the length and the arm chairs made up the width, a red-wood coffee table placed in the center.
A prickling sensation suddenly skittered up my arms, breezing against my skin as we walked. Eyes. Eyes are on me. I didn't have to look around to confirm my suspicions.
Ryder didn't look around either so I couldn't be sure whether or not he was also feeling people watching us or just didn't care.
We both stepped up onto the platform when we arrived at the seating area, the sound of our steps causing the three men sitting there to turn towards us.
My eyes darted around the group quickly, taking note of two men on one couch and one on the other as they paused their conversation to take note of Ryder and I.
One of the two men sitting on the couch pretended to drop his jaw upon locking eyes with my necklace. His deep olive skin had a smattering of dark freckles splashed across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the dark brown of them matching the dark curls on his head. What didn't match was his moss green eyes. Eyes that were an open book, flipped to the chapter of amused and shocked.
He was the first to speak, rubbing a hand over the light stubble on his jaw. "Estas bromeando," he seemed to say in what I believe was Spanish. He seemed to repeat himself in English a second later, chuckling, "You're joking."
The man sitting next to him, pale skinned with reddish-brown cropped hair, reacted the same way, his words accompanied by a chuckle of disbelief. "Well I'll be fucking damned! Who the hell are you?" he directed his question at me. I gave a shy smile that was completely real. A grin spread across his lips that only widened to rival the Cheshire cat's when his brown eyes caught sight of my finger linked with Ryder's. That made him laugh more.
The man sitting on the couch across from them however, shook his head, and it took me a second to realize that it was Dylan. He gave a low whistle that made my stomach churn. "Wow, Mae," grinning wide and crooked and amused, his light brown eyes skipped down my attire as mine did the same to his. His all black tracksuit was more on theme with Ryder's casual look than my own. "You clean up real nice."
I couldn't hide the pink that I knew spotted my cheeks. "Thank you."
The red-head seemed to gasp. "Wait a second, Dylan knows this chick?"
Dylan shrugged casually. "What can I say? I have best friend privileges."
"Who is she?" the man with green eyes asked, looking me up and down as well. I wasn't too sure how old either of these men were, probably in their mid twenties or something, but I wasn't too fond of how blatantly they were staring at me. His eyes met mine again. "Who are you?"
The question was aimed at me but old habits die hard and I looked to Ryder for permission to respond without thinking. Rather than be annoyed, he used our linked fingers to tug me closer to him, looking at the man. "She's mine," he responded cooly, sounding unbothered. However, he stepped slightly in front of me as if he were shielding me from view. "Which makes her none of your business."
"There's no way you can't introduce her," Dylan snickered, as if expecting this. He raised his eyebrows at Ryder but I couldn't decipher the message that seemed to pass between the two of them.
After a quick couple of seconds, Ryder turned his gaze on me casually, eyes dipping low to my mouth, lower to my collarbones, then up to my eyes. "Fine. This is Mae." His stare burned right through me, heating my skin as he lowered it again to the low neckline of my bodysuit. Then, just as casually, he turned his head back to our audience. "Touch her and I will stab you through your hand, yeah?"
My breath shortened and I suppressed the shiver wanting to coarse through me at the threat, even though it wasn't directed at me. The chuckle that seemed to have followed made my eyes draw back to the two men, my lips turned up in what I hoped was a friendly smile.
The man with red hair leaned back in his seat. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mae. I'm Liam."
The man with green eyes tacked on, "I'm Walter," with a wink, also leaning back into the cushions. "And might I say that it is very nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too," I spoke, my first real words tonight as 'Ryder's girlfriend'. There was a certain kind of rush that came with the sudden realization of how dangerous this all was, and I felt it in the cool breeze that kissed my skin. Letting out a subtle breath, I turned myself 'on', ready to play my part. "Ryder's been keeping me all to himself so... it's nice to finally step out with him."
Liam and Walter's brows raised, intrigue shimmering in their eyes. "Yeah, I bet," Walter smirked. "But looking at you now? I can see why he wanted to keep you hidden."
Ryder suddenly tugged me after him as he stepped towards one of the arm chairs. "You want a refresher on boundaries?" He aimed at Walter, his words nothing but cold. "Or do I really need to tell you that I don't share."
Walter continued to smirk as Ryder sat in the arm chair, eyes set on him whilst he widened his legs and tugged me closer.
The message to me was loud and clear. Sit on his lap. Ryder wants me to sit on his lap! We didn't talk about this!
It wasn't as though I could stand here and protest. He was still having a staring contest with Walter and my next move was supposed to imply that I was here with Ryder tonight and no one else.
I bit my bottom lip, eyes darting around the group before I pushed myself to step closer to him. We hadn't discussed this. We hadn't talked about possible seating situations and the rules surrounding this kind of thing. Isn't sitting on his lap touching him too much? It certainly gives him access to touching me too much, but...
I lowered myself onto Ryder's right leg, my own hanging between his as I rested my left side flush against his chest. My left arm rested on his shoulder before I lowered it, letting my fingers brush the hair at the nape of his neck.
Ryder's entire body was like a rock; solid and tense. I tried my best to exhale and melt myself more into him but his rigid posture was making it quite the task. Even when I shifted to try and get more comfortable, he slipped his right arm around my waist to discreetly hold me in place. When I went to adjust my arm around his neck, he stiffly moved his head further away from me and rolled his shoulders back.
I cleared my throat, looking at the three sets of eyes on us and trying to play the confident-type. Observe those around you and apply what you see, Ryder had said. Sound advice, sure. But the women around me conducted themselves in a way that was foreign to me.
Women sitting on the laps of their dates were... affectionate. Very affectionate. Kissing the necks of the men they were with, pawing at their dates like there was no one watching. Cole had always told me that those types of women were 'desperate whores'. Was that how Ryder wanted me to act? Like a 'desperate whore'?
"Are you a stripper?" Liam's voice was cutting into my thoughts abruptly, a slippery smile on his lips when I looked over. "That's how y'all two met, right? He hired you?"
My cheeks burned and my thumb brushed against Ryder's nape, itching to channel my nerves somewhere but not being able to. Underneath me Ryder remained silent and bored looking, but the comment caused him to raise a single brow and turn his eyes on Liam.
I almost wanted to tell him I told you so. He had been adamant that no one would even ask us any questions, yet here we were, already saddled with our first one of the night. I decided to take on the task of answering, feeling prepared from Ryder and I's discussed answers. "We met at a bar, actually, and decided to keep it casual for a while. Well," I looked at Ryder, giving him a smile that I hoped presented as content. "Until recently."
Liam gave a low whistle, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm interested in how you got him to commit."
I frowned slightly but kept my smile. "What do you mean?"
"He's been hung up on his intense ex for the longest time," Walter jumped in, almost seeming to chuckle. "Casually fucking or something, and she's been begging him to take her back officially. Right Ry–"
Walter's neck coloured a crimson tone when he looked at Ryder, and I glanced down at him to see why.
Ryder, despite never looking as such anyways, didn't look the least bit pleased with Liam and Walter's sentiments. His slow blink, that one he usually used on me, squared both men with an icy intimidation that had Walter immediately beginning to back track. "I-I just mean—no offense, obviously! I was just trying to say that–"
"We're just saying we're really happy that you found this new girl," Liam cut in, trying to help his friend find his words. "And, stripper or not, look at her legs, SaintWest! You're telling us you picked this girl up right off the street? For free?"
I shivered when I felt Ryder's right fingers resting low on my hip. Too low. "She's not for sale."
"Of course not," Liam sat back in his seat, rubbing his chin. "Though I'd love to know where I can get one. She have any pretty friends?"
"Yo tambien quiero," Walter chuckled. When he noticed my blank stare at his words, he seemed to repeat. "I want one of your pretty friends, too. Gorgeous girls like you seem to bankroll hot friends, yeah?"
"Try one pretty friend," Dylan pipped in, and I felt my skin buzz as I watched him shake his head. "Though not as well behaved. It's something we're working on."
"I bet," Walter's eyes seemed to zero in on the awkward way Ryder and I were sitting on the chair, a clear disconnect between us. "But look at you, Ryder. You seem to be getting over your irrational peeve of being touched, eh?"
"All it took was the right woman," Ryder grumbled, loud enough for his friends to hear. With his left hand he raised it casually until he grasped my right wrist, pulling it from where it lay on my own thigh and bringing it up to his chest. Then he was sliding my palm down, and I could do nothing but school my reaction when he stopped my hand at the waist of his jeans, the touch clearly suggestive. "And now it seems I can't help myself."
My heart was beating in my ears as Liam decided to speak again, drawing Walter and Dylan's attention. Seeing an opportunity, I turned my head towards Ryder, whispering under my breath with a smile. "What are you doing?"
Ryder turned his head but we were so close that his nose brushed mine. "Selling it," he mumbled just as lowly.
I tried to shift my hand up his stomach but he held it down. His breath fanned across my cheek in a minty breeze, coasting my skin and making an awareness slither underneath. "You're being too suggestive."
"You're being too prudish." He blinked, narrowing his eyes just a fraction to challenge me. As if he needed to; I didn't want to challenge him. But I didn't want this whole thing to look too forced, and making me touch him like this might be doing that.
"I'm respecting your boundaries," I mumbled. "Because you don't like to be touched."
"Because you nauseate me," he countered in a whisper, each word landing on my lips as he breathed them. "Just play your part."
I sighed through my nose and continued to smile at him, that slight trickle of ire beginning to awaken in the pit of my stomach. Anger. There it was again, peeking its head up from its otherwise dormant sleep. I wanted to push myself up off his lap just to prove that I could but I knew that I really couldn't. Not right now, at least.
I tugged on my hand again but he didn't budge, his eyes flashing with indignation.
"So," Liam's words seemed to break the staring contest Ryder and I had entered, both our heads turning to the red head. "Has your MIA streak for the past week been because you found yourself this new blonde?" His eyes, brown and beady, held a certain familiarity that I couldn't quite place. I didn't like the way his gaze seared into the free pieces of skin my outfit offered, nor did I find any sort of comfort in the way he stared blatantly at my necklace.
I shifted in Ryder's lap and was met with a pinch to my hip, causing my lips part in a soft gasp. Ryder pretended not to notice as he answered his friend. "Where I've been is none of your business."
Liam raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just trying to gauge where your heads at. I gotta know whether I'm placing bets on you or Walt tonight."
"Walter is insignificant in both skill and general existence," Ryder blinked, looking right at Walter. "Week off or not, you and I both know you're not going to win."
"Ouch," Walter shook his head, but there was no masking the look in his eyes. The flash of hatred and smugness all rolled into one. "But I've upped my training while you've been buried deep in your bitch's golden cunt. Te romperé."
"English, please," Dylan cut in. "For those of us who are monolingual, Walt."
Walter smirked. "I said I will break him," he enunciated the last two words, sheer defiance and determination laced within each syllable. "The reign of you white boys will end."
"Kevin's high-ranking, and he's our POC-king," Dylan shrugged, not at all perturbed. "Better not let him hear you disregarding him like that."
"Yeah, but Kevin's an unstable psychopath so it makes sense," Liam butted in, clapping Walter on the shoulder. "Walt is at least mentally sound. Fuck, remember when Kev broke into Claire's house when we had to look for that thing she stole? Pinned her to her own kitchen table by her neck, it was awesome! Scared her shitless and yet they're now happy and in love. That's not fucking fair."
"It's because Kev's also a stud," Dylan laughed, the sound calming to my ears. "If someone who looks like you tried that shit, it wouldn't work."
"Trust me, I know," Liam griped. "I put the moves on this girl last week and she completely blew me off. I had to feed her drinks for her to even relax enough to fuck, and even then she was into it one second and resisting the next."
I shifted on Ryder's lap as I listened to the conversation, an unsettling feeling suddenly seeming to stir in the pit of my stomach. Walter was piping in occasionally but was sneaking glances at me more often than not. Ryder, on the other hand, continued to sit and listen silently, completely disengaged.
But I was bothered by what Liam was saying. It was sounding like he had been getting a girl drunk so that they could have sex. That already established that she wasn't fully coherent enough to give proper consent. But to hear that she had also been resisting him at some points...
I felt the memory of Cole trying to force himself on me a few days ago threatening to replay at the forefront of my mind. I swallowed it down and blinked it away, turning my gaze away from Liam's and accidentally catching Walter's. His mouth turned up in a smirk and he shifted in his seat, adjusting his pants by grabbing the material at his inner thighs.
It was clearly a subtle yet suggestive move, one that had my cheeks burning in discomfort now. I seemed to turn red for just about everything and, not wanting it to seem like I was blushing, I quickly turned my head towards Ryder. I didn't want to focus on either of his friends anymore.
Luckily, I didn't have to endure it a second longer. Ryder was suddenly moving beneath me and when I looked at him in confusion he simply nudged me off his lap. Once on my feet, the conversation around us came to a halt and his friends watched as Ryder also stood.
"Heading off already?" Dylan raised a brow, smirking when Ryder rolled his shoulders back. I readjusted the hem of my shorts as he did, still feeling Walter's eyes on me. Well, Walter's and a few others from different spots in the room. "You have another hour until you're on. Why don't you stay a bit longer?"
Ryder turned his head and looked at Walter, not a single emotion behind his eyes or in his tone. "I've become bored watching Walter eye-fuck my girlfriend."
Oh my. My lips parted in shock and I looked between the two, seeing the green colour of Walter's eyes populate with embarrassment and nervousness. "Oh c'mon, Ryder! I wasn't—"
Ryder grasped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. I couldn't read his expression but he didn't turn away as he continued, "Evidently, you've made her uncomfortable, so we'll be going."
Walter sputtered now, on the defensive. "I didn't mean any harm—"
Ryder dropped his hand, grabbed my wrist, and turned his dagger of a stare on Walter. "I'll be seeing you in the ring."
For some reason those words made Walter's face pale, a look of dread painting his features as he heaved out a sigh. I didn't really have a chance to react either, as Ryder was suddenly striding off the platform and tugging me along with him. I caught a glimpse of Dylan's amused smirk as we passed, and Liam seemed to chuckle at Walter's expense, neither doing anything to sway Ryder's judgment on the matter.
He pulled me along and I tried my best to keep up, trying to maintain a confident looking stride rather than seem like I was a dog being pulled by a leash. I tugged at my wrist a little bit and managed to slip it out of Ryder's hand, replacing it with my own and interlocking our fingers.
The action made Ryder's stride slow and I caught the clench of his jaw, but he remained silent as we walked through the crowd. Some of the men we passed nodded in his direction, acknowledging his presence but steering clear. Their gazes always slid to me after finishing their greeting, their brows shooting up once they spotted my new necklace. As soon as they did, their eyes snapped away.
Ryder's destination quickly registered as being his private room. I remembered that when we were leaving the lair he had taken this route, so it was easy to recall the steps. We got there rather swiftly, Ryder punching in a code into the keypad on the door that I never noticed the first time, and all but shoving me in when he pushed the door open.
When he shut it, I felt like I could take a breath. "Wow," I shook my head as I stepped further into the main room. "That was... I feel very overstimulated."
"What is wrong with you," Ryder grumbled, pushing past me and through the lounge room. He got to the kitchen area and opened the fridge, retrieving a water bottle. "Why did you keep fidgeting on my lap?"
My ease was quick to turn into defensiveness. "You never told me that I'd have to sit on your lap in the first place! We never discussed that in our rules."
"I told you I'd have to touch you in order for this to be believable." Uncapping his bottle, he took a long swig. "If you were uncomfortable with it, why didn't you use your stupid code?"
I pursed my lips because he kind of had a point with that one. It didn't occur to me that he'd even taken the whole code-phrase thing seriously. "I didn't... were you really going to listen to me if I had used it?"
He set his bottle on the island, settling me with narrowed eyes. "The fuck is the point of setting boundaries if you didn't expect me to follow them?"
"Well–" but I cut myself short. I didn't really have a defense to that, other than I had been hoping he'd follow through but didn't have the highest of hopes. I suppose since we weren't really dating, he didn't have the privilege of pushing my boundaries or breaking my rules. I guess... I guess I'd forgotten that. I shook my head and tried to switch gears. "Well aren't you at least glad I had us sort through all those relationship questions? Look at how inquisitive they were!"
"Don't change the subject." Ryder opened his fridge again and pulled out another water bottle, unscrewing it so that the seal broke but keeping the cap on the bottle. He stepped towards me. "They asked us one question about how we met."
"It could have been more if you didn't get up and go," though I wasn't complaining that he had. I hadn't been really contributing to the rest of the conversation anyways, not that I wanted to.
Which apparently was obvious. "Please. Your body language clearly indicated you wanted to leave." When Ryder was a couple feet from me he held out the water bottle. I tried not to be surprised as I took it, mumbling a 'thank you' before he continued. "Which is why you need to stop fidgeting. Claire's going to see right through you if you don't relax."
"I'm not the one who needs to relax. You were like a piece of rock." I raised the water bottle to my lips, taking a few sips. "I still don't understand how us dating is supposed to cure our problems. Are you ever going to explain that?"
"No," Ryder turned his back on me and stalked back to the kitchen, so much more being conveyed in his posture than with his words. There was something I wasn't being told about what was going on, but I couldn't understand why.
I took a tentative seat on the black couch, placing my water on the coffee table. We weren't even halfway through the night and we were in another disagreement. I was doing everything I could on my end of things but he was holding himself back. It could've been because of his disdain for touch but something was nagging at me that I needed to press further.
I wasn't going to, though, and I decided instead to push my luck elsewhere. "So...," I began. "What exactly should I know about Lily?"
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i missed y'all so much 😭