36 | in which he fantasizes about her

My madness has a way of tearing me apart.

Your madness has a way of keeping us together.

.\.|./.

Ryan Falls

| in which he fantasizes about her |

Lunch is terrible, but due to the sheer amount of hunger I feel, even the rubbery sandwiches taste like Gordon Ramsey's chef-specials.

Crystal probably feels the same way, devouring her batch of soggy fries and flattened zinger as soon as she possibly can. With my own sandwich between my fingers, I can't help but smile as I watch her eat.

"What?" she asks, her mouth full of the fries that taste like plastic.

"No wonder your thighs jiggle when you walk," I joke.

Crystal rolls her eyes and keeps eating. I can't help but love how much she just doesn't care what I say.

"I'm glad you noticed," she mumbles, too busy eating to spare me a glance. "I've noticed your belly-fat too."

Almost having a heart attack, I glance down to see my not-at-all fat belly. Crystal bursts out laughing, wiggling her eyebrows when I scowl at her. I let her get away with it.

As usual.

Despite my insistence, she's the one in the driver's seat when we get back in the car. I already know she loves driving, but having to sit by and do nothing bothers her, and now I've realized it. Even when I was driving, she kept scrolling through her phone and then burying her nose in my laptop to read some of my unfinished projects.

"You're pretty good," she complimented me, closing the laptop when she couldn't find anything interesting. Crystal's lack of enthusiasm towards political debate took a toll on her and she couldn't take more of my work.

Now, as she drives, I watch her. This is the best part of letting her drive; since she keeps her eyes on the road, I can keep mine on her.

"Stop staring, Ryan, you're making me nervous," she says at last, not sounding the least bit nervous.

I roll my eyes. "Seriously?"

"No. But I want you to stop staring at me. It's weird," she says bluntly.

I burst out laughing, unable to contain it.

"You're really weird, you know that?" I ask her, still laughing.

"Says the weirdest man in the world," Crystal counters, casting me a shady look. "Just stop staring."

Not wanting to risk getting smacked in the face by Crystal, I obey. Instead, I turn my gaze outside, watching the scenery change as we move farther from Alaska and closer to Los Angeles. The weather has grown warmer, or perhaps we're moving towards the heat.

As day turns to night, my calm begins to transform to anxiety once again. The wind is growing cooler and the sky darker, and as darkness falls on the world outside, my own demons come out to play in my mind.

It worries me, how much more of this I can take. Yes, I want Crystal to be okay, safe and happy, away from everything that can hurt her. But can I really protect her when I'm standing on the brink of insanity myself.

"Ryan?"

I jump at the touch, relaxing when I see Crystal pulling over into a motel parking lot. Her hand is on mine, her face unsmiling and eyes cautious. I try to control my ragged breathing, knowing I can't hide it from her even if I try. It's too obvious, especially to someone I spend my entire day and night with.

"Will you go inside to make sure this place is okay?" she asks me.

I nod, swallowing hard. I hate how I feel, but I hate how she can tell how scared I am. I don't want to be this way, mentally fragile and emotionally weak. But this is what I am, what I have become, and the closer I get to LA, the closer to the edge I feel.

The motel room is better than the last one, and Crystal seems to like it. She falls face-down onto the bed, her arms spread wide. Her exaggerated groan is hilarious, and I can't help but chuckle as I watch her throw her hair open and let them fly in the wind of the fan.

"I need a haircut," she says, grabbing her hair impatiently and twisting them into a long rope.

"I like your hair," I blurt out before quickly adding, "but if you want a haircut, we can drop by at a salon when we get to LA."

Crystal smiles at me, her face lit up.

"Maybe I can dye them black too," she suggests. "I've really begun to like dark hair."

A smile slides onto my face, and I cock an eyebrow at her.

"Is this your way of telling me you like my hair?" I ask her playfully.

"Maybe."

The innocent look on her face is even better than her blunt answer, and I can't help but adore everything about this girl. It takes all of my will power to stay away from her, giving her the space to be herself. If I wasn't afraid of scaring her off and upsetting her so that she would retreat back into her shell, I would pin her against the wall right now and --

"You really can't stop staring, can you?" she questions, folding her arms across her chest. "It's creepy, Ryan."

"Does it bother you?" I ask, shaking off my thoughts.

"Yes," she answers without a beat.

I'm not convinced.

"Well, too bad you're stuck with a creep," I say, walking over to her before leaning in to whisper. "In a motel room. Alone. Trapped. With no way out."

She doesn't even blink for a while, holding her breath as her blue eyes bore into mine. Finally, she smiles.

"Oh, don't doubt me, Ryan Falls," she says, lowering her voice to match mine. "You can't lay a finger on me unless I want you to."

"Do you want me to?" I ask.

"Want you to what?"

"Lay on you?"

Crystal scoffs. "You wish."

"Oh, I do."

Even though I'm serious, Crystal rolls her eyes, getting to her feet so that her eye level matches with mine.

"Shut up, Ryan," she says. "I'm going to take a bath. Take this time to get your head out of your ass."

"I'd much rather fantasize about yours in the shower," I half-joke.

"My head?" she pretends not to understand me.

"Your as--"

"Shut it!"

Crystal slaps my shoulder before heading towards the bathroom and I can't help but smile. I'm not horny, but the way Crystal shrugs me off is to die for. Either I'm really bad at flirting -- which might be the case since she never even blushes at my pickup lines -- or she just doesn't care what I say.

Whichever it is, Crystal always gets the last say between the two of us.

And I couldn't be more okay with that.

Even when she comes out of the bathroom, she ignores me. Crystal falls asleep soon after, her wet hair spread out on her pillow. My phone rings and I scramble towards it, glancing at Crystal. She doesn't even shift, and I love how heavily she sleeps. I could be banging drums around her and she'd never wake up.

The name of the police officer investigating Crystal's case flashes on the screen, wiping the smile right off my face. Putting the phone to my ear, I get up from the bed and hurry out of the room to talk in private. I don't want Crystal to worry about any new advancement, intending to tell her only if it's something good.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Falls? This is officer Warren speaking," says the professional voice on the other side.

"Yeah, Ryan here."

"We think we may have a lead on Jeremy Henderson."

My heart lifts instantly, all traces of fatigue evaporating into thin air.

"Do you have him?" I ask.

"Not yet," the man tells me. "But we have reason to believe that he's still in Alaska. The credit card under his name was swiped at a local store this morning, and we have tracked him down to the neighborhood. Would the two of you be able to come to the station tomorrow so we can --"

"Actually ..." I hesitate. "We're no longer in Alaska. I was going to tell you but it all happened so fast that I asked Ted Garner to --"

"Yes, Mr. Garner informed us," Officer Warren explains. "However, it seems imperative that Miss Monroe be present at the time of the hearing. We will also need her written and recorded statement against Mr. Henderson to have legitimate grounds for arrest."

"Mr. Henderson tried to kill her," I remind the man, my temper rising. "You saw the state she was in. She told you what he did. What more grounds for arrest do you need?"

"There is no proof it was him, nor are there any witnesses except you, kid, --" the man begins.

"Don't call me that!" I snap, hating the word I've heard so many times.

Kid. I was just a kid. But I'm not anymore.

"How can you still need proof?" I demand. "You got the DNA samples. You said you found his hair, his semen, his ... what more do you want?"

"I'd like to speak to Miss Monroe," the man says, ignoring my inquiry entirely.

"No," I snap. "No, she's not coming back there. She's not safe there. That crazy man is still out there and you're not doing anything to catch him. You're mad if you think I'm bringing Crystal back there --"

"She needs to be here if she wants --"

"I won't let you put her at risk, okay?" I firmly state, aware that I'm standing outside the door of the motel room we rented for tonight. "You're doing nothing to help, nothing to protect her. You promised there would be security at the hospital. There wasn't a single damned officer --"

"Son, you're talking to a police officer here," the man reminds me, dropping the ounce of compassion he was faking previously. "The fact is, if you want any action taken against the man, you need to be in Alaska."

I take a deep breath, attempting to calm myself before I lash out at a police officer.

"I'm sorry, sir," I say coolly. "But as much as I'd like to see that man be thrown behind bars, I'm not putting Crystal at risk again. If you want to catch him, you may. If you're not punishing a criminal for what he did, Crystal is never coming back to Alaska."

I hang up without waiting for an answer, meaning what I said. The truth is, that no matter how much I want to see Jeremy paying for his actions, and as much as going back to LA scares me ... I'm not letting Crystal get hurt.

I couldn't protect her the last time.

But it is going to be the last time she ever gets hurt.

.\.|./.

A/N: Don't you just love Ryan? I know I do.

I'm thinking about writing a spin-off novella just about Jeremy. I might if the idea can actually stay in my head until I finish this story. I want to show his side of the story too, but this is Ryan and Crystal's story. What do you think, though?