September 26
Ana
I creep out of the bedroom quietly. Ryan's still asleep, but I had a dream about waffles last night and I have the power to make those dreams come true. I open the cabinet and reach for the waffle iron up on the top shelf. Ryan must have been the one to put it away last, because it's just barely out of my reach. I stand up on tippy-toes, my fingers grasping for the handle on the end. My finger brushes it. So close! I close my eyes in concentration.
Suddenly I intuitively know that someone is standing right behind me. I'm not sure exactly how I know that. Maybe I felt his body heat in the close proximity, or I felt the soft stirring of his breath on my cheek, or perhaps I heard him moving behind me. All I know is, Ryan is standing very, very close to me now.
I open my eyes and see his hand brush mine as he reaches for the waffle iron, easily grabbing it and bringing it down for me. A sense of deja-vu settles over me, like somehow this situation is familiar. Or maybe that it will become familiar. I feel goosebumps break out across my skin, spreading down my arm.
I turn and pull my arm back, trying to hide my reaction to his touch. His face is so close to mine and he's looking into my eyes. Those brilliant, sky blue eyes regard me silently. Not even glancing at his scars can distract me from the mushy feeling in my brain. I look up to his hair and the feeling increases exponentially.
He obviously just woke up and his hair is a mess, somehow managing to look like it was intentionally and artfully disheveled. It's absolutely adorable. My fingers itch to run my hand through his hair, though I doubt he'd appreciate that. He looks ridiculous and incredibly attractive at the same time. It's simply not fair.
I laugh, grateful the sound that came out of me is a normal human noise rather than a high-pitched squeak. His eyebrows lower and he takes a step back.
"Just wake up?" I ask.
He nods and hands me the waffle iron.
"Thanks," I tell him. "You might consider buying a step ladder."
He shrugs and goes into the bathroom. The shower turns on a few seconds later. For a brief moment, I think about Ryan shirtless with dripping wet hair.
I open my eyes wide and give my head a shake. "Not a good idea, not a good idea," I say aloud to myself. Thinking about my roommate in the shower is definitely not a good idea. Especially if I want to be able to function around him normally. But even that's becoming difficult.
I set to making waffles. By the time Ryan is back out, I've got two ready for consumption. He moves around me in the kitchen, getting out the plates and silverware. This is a ritual we've done many times before, but each time he walks past, I remember the feeling of his hand brushing mine and the knowledge that if I faked a stumble backwards, I'd be caught in his arms. I want to turn around now and catch his attention so I can stare into those blue eyes again.
And then suddenly, I realize exactly what that scene with the waffle iron looked like and why it felt like something I'd seen before.
"Farm boy," I call in a terrible impression of a British accent. "Fetch me that pitcher."
He just stares at me with the greatest look of absolute confusion I've ever seen on him. "What?"
"No," I gasp, my mouth falling open as I stare back at him. "Don't tell me you've never seen The Princess Bride."
He shrugs.
I cover my face with my flour-dusted hands and emit a pained little screech. "How can you have lived for this long without seeing one of the greatest movies of all time?!"
I throw my hands down in frustration. "And I can't make you watch it. This is a tragedy of the greatest proportion!"
He raises an eyebrow.
"A crime against humanity!" I exclaim, hoping to goad him into playing along. I love it when he shakes off his solemn demeanor and tries to make me laugh.
All I get out of him is a bemused smile, but I'll take it.
~~~
That night, the view of the sunset from the porch is spectacular. I convince Ryan to join me outside. I used the excuse of not wanting to get eaten by bears, but I really just wanted him to come with me. After the golden glow has faded to a dusky orange, I stay to watch the stars come out.
"Is that Venus?" I ask, pointing to what looks like a star above the sunset.
"Yes."
"Can you identify any others?"
It's a ploy to get him to stay out here longer. It might be a little juvenile, like a little kid grasping at straws to stay up past bedtime, but it works. We stand at the edge of the porch railing as Ryan points out the stars he knows as they appear. He's demonstrated his knowledge of stars and constellations before, pointed them out to me before, and even given me his book on stargazing. Despite these facts, he still seems pleased to repeat this all again.
I listen to him talk. If someone saw us, they'd think we were on a date. Out here under the darkening sky, looking at the stars and talking. If we were a couple, he'd put his arm around me.
I rub my arms. "It's getting cold out."
"It's autumn now. Soon the temperatures will drop below freezing every night."
I look over at him, concerned. "Shouldn't we bring the plants inside now?"
He shakes his head. "Not yet. The covering will keep them warm enough for now, but it's something we'll need to do soon. Maybe next week."
"Are you sure we won't starve to death over the winter?"
"We'll be fine." He looks down at the dog by my feet. "We won't have to eat the dog."
I gasp in mock horror and drop to my knees, throwing my arms around a startled Casper. "Don't listen to him, Caspie. We would never dream of eating you."
I look up at Ryan and give him a fake glare. "You're going to give him nightmares!"
Ryan smiles and stiffly crouches down next to me, his leg giving out at the last second. He pitches off to the right and my hand shoots out, grabbing his arm. But Ryan's heavier than I expected and in a sudden tangle of movement, Ryan's lying on his back on the porch with me across his chest.
I meant to hold him upright, but instead he pulled me down with him. Casper leaped out of the way and now is coming back over to sniff at our faces, but neither of us is paying any attention to the dog.
In the dim light of the porch, with a gentle autumn breeze ruffling my hair, I stare down at Ryan and he stares up at me. At first it was shock preventing me from reacting. Then, it was the errant thought that in a romantic film, this was the ideal moment for a kiss.
"Woah," I say, not sure if I'm exclaiming at the situation or the surprisingly strong urge to press my lips against his. My eyes start to close in the anticipation of it. But just before, just before my eyelids drop completely, one thought startles me out of this trance. The thought of his likely horrified reaction to me doing something like this. My eyes fly open and I start to pull back.
"Sorry about that," I say, pushing myself up and trying really, really hard to play it cool. Did I totally blow my cover there? Could he see how close I was to doing it?
Ryan doesn't say anything as he pulls himself to a sitting position. His silence only amplifies the intensity of the most awkward moment we've ever had.
"We're quite the pair, aren't we," I say with a nervous laugh.
He doesn't seem to get it, so I explain further.
"Like a couple of dominoes, or two Jenga towers or something. I literally just fell over trying to stop you from falling."
"I'm not exactly agile," he says, looking as uncomfortable as I feel.
"Well see, you have a legitimate reason. What's my excuse? I'm just a walking disaster."
"You are a little clumsy," he admits.
"A little?" I ask. "How about a lot?"
I actually get a full smile out of him.
"I really don't know how someone with such graceful dance moves can be so uncoordinated," he says.
I choke out a laugh. It's not that I'm that embarrassed he caught me rocking out to my tunes, but I do feel a touch of chagrin every time I think about it. Actually, what might be more affecting is how much he seems to enjoy teasing me with it.
I stand up and offer him a hand. He gets to his feet on his own. I roll my eyes.Men.
We finally go back inside and settle on the couch, each with a book, me in my spot and Ryan in his spot. His looks like a spy or thriller novel. I'm reading Pride and Prejudice for the first time. I'd always meant to read it, but just never had the time. Now that I've got nothing but time, I'm beginning to realize that I should have read this book sooner. I'm loving it.
During one verbal sparring match between Lizzie and Mr. Darcy, my internal laughter becomes a single, audible giggle. I look up to see if Ryan noticed.
He's asleep. His arms are folded across his chest, his head is slumped against his own shoulder, the injured side of his face toward me. I twist around to see the clock. I make an exaggerated face of horror. I had no idea it'd gotten this late. No wonder Ryan fell asleep.
I turn back around and my gaze settles on Ryan again. I don't know if it's the scars, a trick of the light, or maybe just my imagination but Ryan's face looks sad. I love it when he smiles. When I make him laugh, I feel like I've accomplished something really great and really special. I stare at his sleeping face. That's probably creepy, but I don't care. I wish I could take away his pain. He's been so wonderful to me. I wonder if maybe that's because he knows what it's like to hurt.
It's been six months since the day I woke up here. Six months since they almost killed me. Six months I haven't had to worry about them finding me. Six months I've finally gotten back to being me again. All this time I was so focused on how my family was stolen from me. I hadn't realized that those men stole away a piece of me. A piece of my soul that I hadn't gotten back until I met Ryan.
Does he have any idea how much he's done for me? My eyes burn suddenly as tears blur the outlines of everything in my vision. Ryan saved me, in so many ways. I want to return the favor and save him - fix him. I know I'm still far from fixed myself, and I may never be fully healed, but I'm getting better. I want to help him get better too.
Mamá always believed in God. I think I did too, until the day God didn't save them. After that day, I didn't want to live in a world with a God who would let a family die that way. But when I think about the incredible coincidence of the helicopter crashing near Ryan's cabin, me managing to walk in exactly the right direction to get me there, while barely conscious and probably suffering from a concussion, I think maybe God does exist after all.
I'm still pretty pissed off at him for letting my family die.