Maybe Someday (Maybe #1)(48)
Me: Oh! One time in high school, I spent the night at a girl’s house who I didn’t know very well. We made out. I wasn’t into it, and it was really gross, but I was seventeen and curious.
Ridge: No. That does NOT count as a flaw, Sydney. Jesus Christ, work with me here.
Me: I like the smell of puppy breath.
Ridge: Better. I can’t hear my own farts, so sometimes I’ll forget that other people can hear them.
Me: Oh, my God. Yes, this is the type of thing that definitely sheds a different light on you. I think I’ll be good for a while.
Ridge: One more from you, and then I think we’ll be equally repulsed.
Me: A few days ago, when I was getting off the campus bus, I noticed Tori’s car was gone. I used my extra key to let myself into her apartment, because I needed a few things I had forgotten. Before I left, I opened all her bottles of liquor and spit in them.
Ridge: For real?
I nod, because I’m too ashamed to type the word yes.
He laughs.
Ridge: Okay. I think we’re good. Meet me here at eight tonight, and we’ll see if we can navigate through a song. If we need to take breaks from the music every now and then in order to replenish our repulsiveness with a few more flaws, just let me know.
Me: Deal.
I close my laptop and begin to slide off the bed, but he grabs my wrist. I turn around, and he’s looking at me with a serious expression. He leans over and grabs a pen, then picks up my hand and writes: Thank you.
I press my lips together and nod. He releases my hand, and I walk back to my room, attempting to ignore the fact that all the repulsive details in the world couldn’t stop my heart from reacting to that simple gesture. I look down at my chest.
Hey, heart. Are you listening? You and I are officially at war.
Ridge
As soon as she’s out of my bedroom and the door shuts behind her, I close my eyes and exhale.
I’m thankful that she isn’t angry. I’m thankful that she isn’t vindictive. I’m thankful that she’s reasonable.
I’m also thankful that she appears to have more willpower than I do, because whenever I’m around her, I’ve never felt so weak.
Chapter Thirteen
Sydney
Not much has changed in the way we practice together, other than the fact that we now practice five feet apart from each other. We’ve completed a couple of songs since “the kiss,” and although the first night was a little awkward, we seem to have found our groove. We haven’t talked about the kiss, and we haven’t talked about Maggie, and we haven’t discussed why he plays on the floor and why I write alone on the bed. There’s no reason to discuss it, because we’re both very aware of all of it.
The fact that we’ve admitted our attraction to each other doesn’t seem to have eliminated it the way we’d hoped. For me, it’s like a huge elephant in the room. It feels as if it takes up so much space when I’m with him that it presses me against the wall, squeezing the last traces of breath out of me. I keep telling myself it’ll get better, but it’s been almost two weeks since the kiss, and it hasn’t gotten easier at all.
Luckily, I have two interviews next week, and if I get hired, at least it’ll get me out of the house more. Warren and Bridgette both work and go to school, so they’re not here a whole lot. Ridge works from home, so the fact that we’re both here alone the majority of the day is always at the front of my mind.
Out of all the hours in the day, though, the hour I hate the most is when Ridge is in the shower. Which means I really hate this hour, since that’s where he is right now. I hate where my thoughts go when I know he’s one wall away from me, completely unclothed.
Jesus, Sydney.
I hear the water turn off and the shower curtain slide open, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying once again not to picture him. This would probably be a good time of day to turn on some music to drown out my thoughts.
As soon as the door closes between the bathroom and his bedroom, there’s a knock at the front door. I gladly jump off the bed and head toward the living room to get my mind off the fact that I know Ridge is in his room getting dressed right now.
I don’t even bother looking through the peephole, which is a very bad oversight on my part. I swing open the door to find Hunter standing sheepishly at the top of the stairs. He eyes me, his expression apologetic and nervous. My heart drops to my stomach at the mere sight of him. It’s been weeks since I last laid eyes on him. I was beginning to forget what he looked like.
His dark hair is longer since I last saw him, and it reminds me that I’m always the one to schedule his hair appointments. The fact that he hasn’t even bothered to make his own appointment makes him that much more pathetic to me.
“Should I give Tori the number for your barber? Your hair looks awful.”
The mention of Tori’s name makes him grimace. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m not jumping back into his arms that’s causing that regretful expression on his face.
“You look good,” he says, capping his words off with a smile.
“I am good,” I say, not sure if I’m lying to him or not.
He runs a free hand over his jaw and turns away from me, appearing to regret the fact that he’s here.
How is he here? How does he even know where I live?