Page 116 of Ryan
She nods again, chewing on her lip.
“Are we clear on that?”
“I’d say so.”
“Good,” I say, calmer now.
“So now that’s all clear…” she says, a blush creeping up her neck. “Can you go and put some clothes on?”
I look down.
“It isn’t easy to speak to you with all that in front of my eyes.”
I laugh. Seriously. I laugh, and I feel my heart start to beat again.
“I’m not kidding.”
“I know,” I say, still laughing, holding my stomach with my hands. There’s not actually that much to laugh about – but the situation, our anger, the ridiculous jealousy, her here, with me… I laugh, and I keep laughing. I laugh hysterically and, after a few seconds, she bursts out laughing, too.
We laugh and laugh like two idiots in my living room. We laugh as if we were partners in crime, as if there really were something beautiful between us. Something intimate, something enjoyable. Something that doesn’t hurt, but actually helps your body pump the blood from your brain to your heart.
Something that fills my mind, my body, my thoughts, and anything it can get its hands on.
Something that shocks me and scares me, but that – for some inexplicable reason – I don’t want to stop. Not before understanding what it all really means.
I wipe away my tears, as she does the same.
“I’ll go and chuck something on. Then you can stop staring at me.”
“Me? What? I wasn’t staring at you but…come on! Have you seen yourself, Ryan O’Connor?”
I look down and shrug.
“Don’t pretend to be all modest. What did they do, sculpt you? Did your mother feed you bread and marble as a kid?”
Another uncontrollable laugh escapes my lips.
“Are you laughing at me?” she asks, angry.
I shake my head and try to compose myself.
“No, Christine, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing with you.”
“Oh,” she says, suddenly embarrassed. “O-okay.”
“Now, if we’re done, I’m actually going to go and get dressed. If you want, we can make something to eat after?”
“To-together?”
“Do you have other plans?”
“Me, plans? Are you kidding? Evan’s out with his friends and all I have waiting for me at home is a sad, empty house.”
“Then stay.”
“Stay?”
I nod.
“I’ll stay then,” she says, smiling. I already know that she doesn’t just mean dinner – she means the whole evening.
I know deep down exactly what that means, and even though I try not to acknowledge it, my mind is heading somewhere else. Somewhere way more dangerous than my thoughts, let alone my body.
Something I thought was dead is stirring inside me. It was just lost, waiting to be found.
