Page 102 of Playboy For Hire

“I’m sorry, I should have—” he began, as I said, “I didn’t know you were—”

We both stopped and stared again.

Finally, Ryder said, “I swear, I didn’t know she was going to call you. I didn’t ask her to.”

“Thanks. That feels great to know.”

“No, God, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “I just meant that I wasn’t trying to ruin your day or anything.”

“Because my world revolves around you?”

“No, of course not. But I know I hurt your feelings, and I just—fuck. I’m just trying to say I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything to me at all.” I turned to go.

“Quinn, please.”

“Pleasewhat, Ryder?” I spun around, my intention to dramatically storm off forgotten. “What else could you possibly want from me now?”

His eyes were pleading. “I honestly don’t know. I just know that I hate this. This week has been awful. I miss you. A lot.”

“You’re the one who ended things.”

“I know, but fuck. Doesn’t this bother you too?”

“What do you want me to say? That I hate this too? That I still like you? That I feel like a fucking idiot for thinking you might like me too? How pathetic do you need me to sound, to make you happy?”

“But Idolike you, that’s what I’m saying. I don’t think you’re pathetic. I’m the pathetic one here. Please, if there’s one thing you walk away with, know that the problem wasn’t me not liking you enough. The problem is—” he broke off and looked at me helplessly.

But I didn’t know how to help him. Didn’t particularly want to. “The problem is what?”

“God, I am so going to regret saying this.” Ryder squeezed his eyes shut, and I wondered what he would say next that would destroy me.

“The problem is I fucking love you, Quinn. And no matter how much you think you like me now, one day you’re going to realize I’m not good enough for you, and you’re going to break up withme, and I’m going to be devastated.” He opened his eyes. “My heart is in pieces. Don’t you get it? I love you, and it sucks so much.”

My jaw hit the floor. “You…love…me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“You’re sure?” I said. This felt impossible. I was sure I was mishearing him, or misunderstanding. There was no way Ryder was standing in my great-aunt’s living room, confessing his love to me right now.

“Positive. I look at you and my chest aches because of how badly I want to hold you. My eyes go dry because I’m trying not to blink, trying to take you in. My lips just want to be touching yours, and I don’t get how you don’t see it, how you can’t see this love I have for you, coming out of every pore.”

“I—I don’t—” I could barely speak. Certainly not well enough to string a sentence together.

“I realized it the night we had dinner with my parents,” he continued. “But I think it started even earlier. I love you, and I hate imagining my life without you, and I never wanted to hurt you. I’m just trying to do what’s best for both of us, okay? That’s all. But please, never doubt what I felt for you. What I still feel. Doubt everything else, but don’t doubt that.”

Joy and frustration and sadness and desire all welled up inside me at once.

“You fucking idiot,” I said, tears appearing at the corners of my eyes.

“What?”

“You broke up with me because you love me?” I said, outraged.

Ryder’s bottom lip wavered. “Yeah, but—”

“I love you too, you absolute moron.” I couldn’t keep myself away from him any longer. I crossed the space between us and took his face in my hands.

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