Page 59 of Resting Grump Face
I inquire why he chose to walk with me when he could have just taken the elevator, but all he answers is that cardio is good for you. By floor 24, my legs are jiggling jelly. We rest for a minute or two before going on. Ryker notices that I am slowing down and does so as well, which I appreciate. This way at least I get to stare at his butt while mine is already thinking about where to buy steroids for the upcoming days.
Finally, we make it to the ground floor, which has me moaning with pain and delight in equal measures.
Ryker huffs in response. “Three more to go,” he scoffs and points towards the parking garage.
I groan, throw my head back in desperation and miss the second to last step. Ryker’s back doesn’t exactly cushion my fall as much as it makes for a great object to hang onto. Which is what I do when I slam into him. I hold tight for dear life.
Ryker barely moves, instinctively reaches back, puts his hands under my butt and lifts me fully onto himself. “Look, I am still not calling you fat, but you have to stop falling likethis.” His eyes peek at where my head is resting on his shoulder. Involuntarily, I inhale every last bit of him. Because I am exhausted and in need of air, not because I want to smell him. I smile from all the pain in my legs.
Okay, fine. Maybe I do want to smell him a little. It’s not my fault he is the best scented human alive.
I’ve also come to terms with the fact that his hands are not at all dainty. They’re strong and strapping, pulling me tight, making sure I can’t move away from him even if I wanted to.
Which is fine. All of it. I just have to heed his advice: I can not keep falling like this.
22
RYKER
“Oh,” Sienna says when we finally make it to where my car is parked, “already there. That was quick. You know this is great training for when you’re going to carry me all the way to Cloud 9.”
“The fancy restaurant on top of the highest skyscraper in town?” I ask.
“That’s the one. Always wanted to go. If it wasn’t for the actual going part, of course.”
When she slides off my back, she is still shaky on her feet, so I open the passenger door and help her inside.
“And here I thought I was in the best shape of my life,” Sienna groans and massages her thighs.
“I guess having a nice ass does not make one a professional stair athlete.” The words escape my mouth before my brain can catch them. “Stairmaster? Is there a term for someone who walks stairs semi-professionally?” I try to distract her with more nonsensical chatter.
Fuck me.
It’s hard to stay focused with her around.
Before she can answer, I shut the door and circle the car until I notice her expression. I can’t tell whether she is angry or amused or both. For a moment, I worry about how she is going to respond, but when I take my seat, I am met with silence. Her lips are pursed. She’s looking at me, but apparently, she’s not sure how to respond either.
“Where are you taking me then?” Sienna finally asks when I steer my grandpa’s old-timer onto the road.
“You haven’t eaten yet.”
“That’s okay, I am not hungry.”
“Alright, you can just watch me eat then.”
When we get to Cereal Killers, my favorite place for breakfast in the city, Sienna sits across from me and makes a point of letting me know that she might be hungry now, but that the view is ‘sort of ruining her appetite’.
Considering the fact that I find her staring at me somewhat frequently, I doubt the validity of her statement. Unable to keep myself from reciprocating her glances, we spend most of breakfast imagining feasting on something other than the intricate bowls of cereal we are served. At least that’s what I do. I don’t know what Sienna is thinking.
Even now, almost two hours later, I can still feel her weight on me. Her boobs squeezing against my back, her hair tickling my ear and her warm breath causing the hair on the nape of my neck to stand at attention. The more I am looking at her, the more I crave to be near her, to touch her, to feel the warmth of her presence enveloping my every being. If I had to, I might even consider carrying her all the way to Cloud 9 for it.
When I lean back, I notice other things are standing at attention as well. Which makes me believe what I really need is some medical attention. How is it possible to be turned on 24/7 just by looking at someone? Sometimes all it takes is a mere fleeting thought. This morning, I got aroused by thinking aboutSienna sleeping in the same house as me. It’s like I’ve found the secret to eternal youth. The only issue is that being a perpetually horny 16-year-old is the worst part of the whole eternal youth deal. Especially when you can’t act on it.
“How did you know that this is my favorite breakfast place?” she asks once she has finished her bowl. “I love their?—”
“Brad, can we have two wafflesaurus, please?” I shout into the back where the owner is usually lounging and watching his shows.
“How did you know I love their wafflesaurus?” Sienna’s eyes narrow with suspicion and I think my plan of forcing her to have a good time with me might actually be working.
