22 | in which she decides she wants him

There were miracles in your kisses,

They were medicine in my veins.

.\.|./.

Crystal Monroe

|in which she decides she wants him|

I shift the phone from one clammy hand to the other, unconsciously tapping my foot as light peeks in through the closed window curtains.

It's not that I haven't tried contacting him over the past three months. I really have. After multiple unreached calls, hundreds of unanswered texts, and a bunch of emails that went ignored, I finally stopped.

Stopped expecting an answer.

Stopped hoping he would return.

Stopped dreaming of him realizing how he's hurting me.

Ryan became a distraction. It was either Jeremy's memories or Ryan's unwelcome presence, that really wasn't as unwelcome as I pretended it was. It was easier to lie that I was only doing it because I was lonely, though. Admitting I was falling out of love with Jeremy and into a pool that had Ryan's name on it was too much for my poor mind.

It doesn't make sense, how someone like Ryan would want to be around someone like me. He's perfect, I'm not. He's beautiful, I'm flawed. He's everything Jeremy wasn't, and I'm nothing I should be.

And that brings me to the second thought. Maybe Ryan doesn't really want to be with me. Maybe he wants someone to pass time, kind of like cooking for him helps me pass mine. He might just be lonely, looking for a good time and searching for some pleasure. In the entire month I have known him, Ryan has never had a girl over, and he was too incapacitated to go out. Maybe the only reason he kissed me that night was that he wanted some physical action.

The thought stings somewhere, and even though a part of me refuses to accept this baseless assumption of mine, another part of me knows it's probable. Jeremy told me that the world was a bad place, narrating to me all the rumors he had heard about me. Being a cheerleader attracted drama, but the kinds of things he told me his friends said, made me feel lucky he even looked at me without judging me.

When Jeremy told me about my best friend trying to seduce him, I lost my trust in people. She denied any such accusation, telling me I'm losing my mind, but I knew Jeremy wouldn't lie to me. What use would it be for him to lie to me?

I sit with the phone in my hand for a long time, staring unseeingly at the blank stretch of wall before me.

When Jeremy asked me to move in with him, the entire female student body burned to ashes. Jeremy was the most charming guy in school, an athlete with a record of treating his girl like a princess. He had a bright future in store, the chance at a full scholarship, gold medals in every interstate run he took part in. And despite all of that, Jeremy wasn't a player. He was loyal, caring, and sweet. What more could a girl ask for, and every girl wanted it.

I got it.

'Did you hear? Jeremy Stone just asked Crystal Monroe to live with him.'

'I heard they're getting their own place?'

'You think they're going to get married?'

'Damn, Crystal is so lucky.'

'I bet she feigned pregnancy to get this done.'

'At least all those nights paid off for Monroe.'

'She just hit a goldmine.'

'Fucking slut.'

I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and closing my eyes. All the things I heard people saying, were one thing. But when Jeremy actually began to echo their words after his mishap and loss of bright future, I didn't know how to fight it off.

'I don't even know what I see in you, Cris,' he used to say. 'All you have is a pretty face. And that's not a good thing, all right? All the guys stare at you. Like ... I don't know. Like you're some whore they want to fuck. I don't like it.'

I would mumble weak apologies, not knowing how to look less 'pretty'. I stopped wearing bright colors, dresses that showed my curves or any amount of skin. Jeans and T-shirts it was for me. Even open hair was a no-go, and makeup was a boundary I never crossed again.

Unable to spend any more time with my own thoughts, I get out of bed, put on my joggers and grab the car keys before leaving my house. It's purely unintentional when I glance at Ryan's house, wondering how he's doing. I haven't seen him in three days, not since that night when he kissed me in the rain.

Or I kissed him, to be more precise.

I had peeked out of the curtain that night, watching him as he stood there in the rain for a long time. It was nearly half-an-hour later that he leaned against his bike, dropping his head in his hands. His body was soaked and still, and I wanted to make sure he was okay. I had held myself back, refusing to give in to the temptation. Ryan deserved better, not a girl torn in half.

He had finally gone back into his house and hasn't come out since.

My worry for him is still there, and I can't help but wonder if he might need my help. What if he has nothing to eat, having given me all his groceries? What if his leg is hurt again, after all the recklessness he showed that day? What if ... what if he's suicidal again?

My mind is already listing all the possible ways Ryan could kill himself without leaving his house. He has knives in his kitchen to cut his veins, matches and gasoline to set himself on fire, clothes he can use to strangle himself, ropes he can use as a noose, and a tub in the bathroom in case he decides to drown himself. He might even have a gun hidden somewhere.

The anxiety winning over, I make my way straight towards his door rather than towards my car.

Like I said, this man will be the death of me.

I ring his doorbell, waiting impatiently for him to open the door and show me his undead face. I can't even begin to imagine the worst-case scenarios, knowing I would be to blame if anything happened to him. The man relied on me, leaving his entire shopping in my kitchen in the hope of me cooking for him. I haven't done that in three days, not even coming over to check if he was alive after I basically left him in the downpour.

He didn't come to check on me either, but I'm the one who walked off so I should be the one to apologize.

There is no answer for a few moments, and I ring the bell again, wanting him to open up already. I'm just considering breaking the door down when it is pulled open, revealing the god-man himself. I open my mouth to speak, stopping suddenly when I see the way he's dressed.

A black tank-top that shows off his muscles, an apron that he is just untying from around his waist, and a pair of grey trousers. Ryan apparently cut his hair, because it is shorter than it was when I last saw him, his bangs stopping just below his eyebrows.

Could this guy not look so good?

Ryan doesn't smile at me, not greeting me in his usually over-enthusiastic way. He simply unties his apron, hangs it over his arm, folds his arms across his chest and gives me a questioning look.

"I ... I came to see how you were doing," I justify my appearance at his doorstep.

He doesn't answer, maintaining his expression.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" I ask, wanting him to shoot one of his cheesy pick-up lines at me, or maybe make one of his guesses that will be a hundred percent accurate but I will refuse to accept. I just want him to give me any hint that nothing has to change between us.

Apparently, everything has changed.

Even the magnetic attraction between us.

"Truth or dare, Ryan?" I say before he can say anything. If this is the only way to get him to talk, then be it.

Ryan's face reveals no emotion. "Truth."

"Why didn't you come visit?" I ask the question eating me inside.

There is a moment of silence.

"I didn't think you wanted to see me," he says, his face expressionless.

I open my mouth, close it again, lowering my gaze and nodding. How can such neutral words hurt so bad? I feel like such a bitch already.

"Okay, my turn ... truth." I look up at him.

Ryan stares straight into my eyes. "Why are you here, Crystal?"

No matter how much time I spend around Ryan, his straightforwardness always catches me off guard. Not only because it is unexpected, but there is a strange politeness to his bluntness. He asks what he wants to ask, but somehow never comes off as intruding. This might be what makes Ryan so easy to be around.

"I ..." I hesitate, my overanxious mind busy visualizing his reactions to my 'true' answer.

What if he laughs at me?

What if he becomes cocky and arrogant?

What if he --

I shut the voices out, focusing my gaze onto Ryan's beautiful face.

"I came here hoping you'd pick dare," I admit, sounding out of breath.

Ryan doesn't react, and I almost wish he would. It would be easier to judge his thoughts from his expressions.

"Dare," he says.

Taken aback by his readiness to give me what I want, I freeze. Something clogs my throat and I swallow it down to force myself to speak.

"I dare you to kiss me," I blurt out, thinking with my heart for once, like he keeps asking me to.

The moment Ryan hears my whisper, a small smile slides its way onto his face. A smile that is neither proud nor victorious, a smile neither mocking nor sarcastic. Just gentle, soft, and beautiful. Perfect.

I don't move when he reaches out a slow hand, fingers on my neck and his thumb grazes my cheek with tender touch. The smile is still on his face when he leans in, and I close my eyes, letting Ryan's magic envelop me.

After what feels like ages, I do what my heart says.

And God, it feels amazing.

And Ryan does too.

.\.|./.

A/N: Do you think this moment was too drawn-out? I mean, twenty-two chapters feels like a lot. But you know me, right? Physical affection always comes after the emotional ones for me. To me, heart and soul matter more than the body.

Share your views about the story and my opinion here. It's okay if you think differently. We all have reasons for what we think and believe.