Page 21 of Stick With Me
“Do not even think about it!” I’m running away from Ryan, sand flying up under my feet as the salty air blows my hair into my face. Which is making it hard to track him. It’s not exactly an equal match with him being a foot taller than me and, you know, him being an athlete. I dodged him the first time he tried to grab me, but he’s closing in again.
“Give up, Hannah. We know you’re not winning this one,” he shouts, sounding close.
“You promised we wouldn’t run!”
His deep chuckle reaches my ears, and in the next moment, I’m lifted off the ground and pressed against his warm, bare chest.When did he take his shirt off?He adjusts me in his arms, wrapping one around my back and sliding the other under my knees. My instinct is to loop my arms around his neck, but I resist, kicking my feet and trying to squirm out of his grasp. I’m unsuccessful. He tightens his grip, clearly not intending to let me go now that he’s caught me.
He jogs, carrying me effortlessly, as if I weigh nothing to him. Before I know what’s happening, we reach the water. The cold ocean spray splashes against the soles of my feet and the backs of my legs. He keeps going despite my protests, wading deeper into the sea. As the water reaches his waist, my butt dips into the chilly waves, forcing me to loop my arms around his neck. “Don’t you dare! Ryan Michael Logan!” I shriek. “Donotdo it!”
He does it. His booming laugh is the last thing I hear before I’m fully submerged in icy salt water. It’s not exactly a polar bear plunge, but it’s still a shock to my system. He’s right there when my head breaks the surface. While he stands with the water just reaching his chest, I’m left treading water, too short to touch the ocean floor. I launch myself at him, trying to dunk him under, but I don’t have enough leverage. Instead, I end up with my legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, and our faces just inches apart. His laughter cuts off abruptly as he registers our new position.
His gaze fixates on my lips. I instinctively lick them and lower my eyes to his, which are slightly parted. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, I think he might kiss me. I’m still unsure how I feel about it, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious.How would his lips feel against mine? Would it be a slow, teasing glide or something hungry and possessive? Would his stubble leave my lips red and raw?The thought sends a flutter through my stomach.
His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my hips as he pulls me closer. The movement causes a glint around his neck, the sun reflecting off a silver chain resting on his sternum. I hook my finger around it, inspecting it more closely. I’ve never noticed it, but it’s clearly not new. My heart clenches with an emotion I’m not ready to name.
“What’s this?” I ask, even though I know the answer. His cheeks flush. I’m not sure if it’s a result of my discovery or from physical exertion.
“You know what it is.”
In college, I was obsessed with rings—nothing fancy, mostly cheap sterling silver bands that I would stack. I don’t wear them anymore, preferring gold now. But I had one I would wear on my thumb. It was thicker and had my name engraved on it. I would always spin it around my finger, a nervous habit. I lost it the summer I met Ryan.
On the necklace hangs that ring.
“Have you worn it this whole time?” Too stunned to filter my thoughts.
“Yes.”
I’m speechless, unsure what to say or even how to feel. Emotions flicker through me like scenes from an old-time movie, disjointed and overwhelming, each one adding more confusion than clarity. Why does he have it? And why does he still wear it?
I try not to get ahead of myself, but it’s impossible not to search for meaning. Sure, people wear friendship bracelets, but this? Wearing my ring around his neck, close to his heart… it has to mean more than that. My mind tumbles back to when we first met, to the way I used to feel about him before life complicated everything. Those feelings are hard to erase completely, no matter how hard I’ve tried.
I shake my head, trying to steady the hope rising in my chest because with that hope comes conflict. As much as I want to believe this means something, I can’t afford to. Not when I’m trying to stay away from situations that might leave me losing myself again. It’s not a risk I can take.
Maybe I’m just reading too much into this. It wouldn’t be the first time. Desperate to dispel the swirl of emotions building inside me, I finally speak. “Where’d you find it?”
“Umm, well, I guess technically I stole it.” He looks away sheepishly.
I sigh as some of the tension leaves my body, replaced by amusement. “You stole it?”
“Yep, that one time we were late for class because you overslept. Natalie let me into the dorms to wake you up. It was on your nightstand. I kind of… just… umm… pocketed it.”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. “You little klepto.”
“Since we are doing the confessional thing…” He mumbles something under his breath that I don’t catch.
“What?”
He shifts back and forth in the water, still holding me around the waist. “I also stole your phone number,” he confesses with a small, guilty smile. His eyes flick down to where my finger is still hooked around the chain, then meet mine again.
“You what?” I squint, trying to remember how we even exchanged numbers all those years ago. “You told me you got it from the class roster online.”
He clears his throat, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “Uh, no. You asked how I got your number, and I said, ‘the class roster was online’… which was true. I didn’t lie.”
I can’t help but revel in his discomfort. “Wow, I’m learning so much about you today, Ryan Logan. So, how did you really get my number?”
“Well, remember the second time we met at the Zete fraternity? You sat on the back steps with me for a bit and forgot your phone. Which I promptly returned to you.”
“After sending my number to your yourself?”
