Four Doors Down(13)
Oh, f*ck it.
“Hey, Ryan, wait.”
He turns round.
“Wanna come back to my house and watch movies all night?”
He looks surprised, but a slight smile appears on his lips. “What about Charlie?”
I shrug. “I can see him tomorrow.”
He frowns slightly, like he’s trying to make up his mind.
“Oh, come on, I’ll even buy you a pizza.”
Apparently this decides it and he smiles at me. “Okay. Thanks.”
Several hours later I’m curled up on the sofa having watched the entire trilogy of The Godfather films. I start yawning, it’s almost midnight and I’ve eaten enough pizza and ice cream to last me until the end of the year. Ryan reaches out and pulls my dad’s old copy of Goodfella’s off the shelf. Apparently he’s developed a penchant for gangster movies since we last hung out.
He turns to me and sees me yawning. “Are you tired? I can go?”
I shrug and shake my head. “It’s fine, put it on.”
He smiles and gets up to stick it in the DVD player. He’s definitely better than when he first got here, apart from when my mom came in and gave him a hug and I thought he was going to wobble a bit, he’s been okay. Quiet, but okay. To be honest, I think my mom was pretty surprised when she walked in and saw us on the couch together. She shot my dad a look, but I know she’s pleased with me. When I went to fetch the ice cream from the freezer, she kissed me on the forehead and whispered, “Well done, sweetie.”
Ryan sits back down on the sofa and glances over at me.
“What?”
“Do you have any more chips?”
Geez, the guy eats like a horse, but I get up anyway. What can I say? I’m a good hostess.
I wake up with a start, disorientated and not knowing where I am. I look around and realize I’ve fallen asleep in front of the TV. It’s still on although the DVD finished a long time ago. The clock on the wall tells me that it’s just after four in the morning. I look down and see that I’ve got the blanket that usually sits on the back of the sofa covering me. Ryan must have covered me when I fell asleep.
I glance over and he’s out cold, wheezing softly and leaning slightly toward me in his sleep. I look at him for a minute, which I know sounds creepy, but this is the first time in years I’ve been able to study him up close. His dark hair flops over to the side and being this close I can see it has flecks of lighter brown in it that I haven’t noticed before. He’s got light freckles covering the bridge of his nose, his jawline is strong and his nose is just slightly crooked making him look less like a pretty boy. His eyelashes match his hair and even though his eyes are closed, I know they’re the same deep turquoise blue as the Caribbean ocean.
Damn. Ryan grew up seriously hot.
I slowly lift myself off the couch. I should probably wake him so he can go back to his own bed because God knows he’ll have a neck ache in the morning after sleeping like that all night, but he looks so peaceful and he’s had such a shit week that I can’t bring myself to do it. I place the blanket I had covering me gently on top of him, moving quietly so that I don’t wake him. I exit the room, turning the lamp off as I go.
I wake up late the next day, yawning and stretching in bed. I’m tired, but at least I did my good deed for the week and, to be honest, it was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. Grief, it would seem, makes Ryan much less of a dick.
I smell bacon coming from the kitchen and stumble out of bed, making my way downstairs.
“Morning, sweetie,” my mom smiles over at the stove. I turn to my dad, who is at the island reading his paper, and nearly fall over when I see Ryan there next to him.
“You’re still here,” I say flatly.
Ryan’s gaze flicks over me quickly before he looks away, and I suddenly don’t feel as comfortable in the sleep shorts and tank top that I wear to bed. I’m not dumb enough to think he was checking me out or anything, but my body is way more exposed than he or any of the boys at school will have ever seen it. The tank top doesn’t quite reach the top of my shorts, flashing a couple of inches of my stomach and the shorts are short, serious leg is on display. But it’s annoying me that I’ve been made to feel like this. For God’s sake, this is my house and I’m being made to feel uncomfortable?
“Rebecca Louise McKenzie!” my mother snaps at me. I look at her and the thunderous look she gives me tells me I’m out of line.
Ryan clears his throat. “Your mom makes an awesome breakfast. I’m done, though, so I can go?”
My dad looks at me in annoyance. “No way, Ryan, the game’s about to start. It’ll be good to have someone to watch it with for a change.”
I glare at him. The absolute traitor! I always knew he wanted a son. I glance at Ryan and he at least has the good grace to look sheepish. He shifts in his seat and I suddenly remember why he’s here in the first place. His granny just died, his house is empty and his best friend is out of town. God, I am being a bitch. I force myself to smile at him “Don’t leave on my account. I’m going out, anyway.” I smile sweetly at my mother and spin around to exit the kitchen.
I’m at my kitchen table staring down at my phone. I have just received a very irate phone call from my mother clearly stating that if I do not get my butt over to the Jackson household in the next ten minutes to pay my respects, then she will take my car from me for the next six months. Apparently she was expecting me over two hours ago when school ended.