Page 34 of Loathing Ryan
I rolled my eyes but kept walking. He was impossible. I didn’t think what I had suggested had been so out of bounds. We weren’t friends. We couldn’t be friends. I just had to hold true to my resolve on that.
It was better this way, I thought to myself, though I wondered if I even believed it. My stomach churned as I walked farther and farther away from him. This whole thing felt off, like I was doing the wrong thing. But deep down, I knew I needed to protect myself above anything else.
All that mattered was that we both got out of this situation alive. We didn’t need to be besties.
The rest of the day was spent expending my nervous energy. I wandered around the cabin relentlessly, straightening up things that didn’t need to be straightened. I had found a broom stashed behind the couch, so I spent a good hour sweeping the floor of the cabin—three times for just good measure.
Ryan stayed outside until the sun had started to set. He brought in three fish with him and tossed them on the counter while he grabbed the necessary items to start preparing them. Then he walked out to the porch to deal with it, not saying a word.
I glowered after him, but I didn’t make a move to follow. By that time, I was perched up on the couch, trying to read my book again.
The next time Ryan stepped inside, he had the fish fully cooked from a bonfire he had made by himself. He handed me a plate, which I took warily. It smelled good, and my stomach growled in response.
Ryan raised an amused eyebrow but still didn’t say anything to me.
We ate our dinner in silence, and then proceeded to avoid each other for the rest of the evening. Ryan took a shower, then kicked me off the couch when he came out.
“I’m tired,” was all he said as an explanation.
I got out of his way, went over to the bed, and curled up as best as I could against the lumpy pillows.
Soon, I heard Ryan’s soft snores coming from the couch. How had he fallen asleep already? He had barely laid down a few minutes ago.
I tossed and turned for a while, unable to get comfortable. Finally, I found a decent position and did my best to settle in. Before I knew it, I felt myself slipping into a restless snooze.
It didn’t last long, and I jolted awake when a loud crash of thunder shook the entire cabin. I blinked a few times and saw a flash of light outside. It was followed soon after by another roll of thunder. My shoulders tensed up once the rain started pelting against the cabin. I turned over onto my back again, trying to calm my heart rate. It was just some rain, no big deal. I had been through a million thunderstorms in my lifetime, and I had never had any problem with them.
Then why did it feel like my stomach was knotting up so bad I would throw up? I tried to reason with myself that I was just a little jumpy after everything that had happened on the river. It was normal to be shaken up after that. Apprehension was a perfectly normal response to trauma.
The rain kept coming; it was pouring now. Thunder rolled every few minutes with a crack of lightning. I was starting to shake, unable to rationalize my way through the storm. I sat up straight on the bed and looked around in the darkness to where Ryan was fast asleep, the storm not phasing him a bit. He was still snoring lightly. I tried to use the sound as a buffer against the rain, but it didn’t work. To make matters worse, I could hear a dripping sound just off to my right. There must have been a leak in the roof.
I covered my ears with my hands as I attempted to shut out the sound of the storm, but that did nothing either. The panic was setting in, and now I was having flashbacks of the raging river and getting caught in the water with nowhere to go. Fearing for my life.
That was something I never, ever wanted to experience again. I remember my hands burning from holding on to that branch for dear life. My feet flailed under the water, trying to find something firm to stand on. The fierce look on Ryan’s face as he swam up to me and took me in his arms flashed in my memory. I could still hear him telling me not to let go. And to trust him.
Trust him.
I looked over at Ryan again. Regret flooded me from the way I got so defensive with him earlier. I had most definitely not trusted him then. He had barely spoken to me for the rest of the day, giving me the space I had obviously needed to process everything.
Standing up from the bed, I walked over to the couch with light steps so I wouldn’t wake him. He was sleeping flat on his back, an arm tossed above his head, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I crouched down next to him and poked his shoulder. He didn’t stir.
I did it again.
This time, with a snort, he sat up a bit, looking around in alarm. When he saw me, his eyes clouded with concern. “What’s wrong?”
An unintentional shiver ran down my spine, remembering the way he held me as he kissed me earlier. Then I remembered how awkward things were between us today, and I twisted my fingers together. Was he still upset with me? “It’s storming.”
“Okay?” he asked, still blinking away the sleep from his eyes.
“It’s um—” I paused, biting my lip. “It’s frightening me. I was wondering if you’d come sleep in the bed with me.”
Ryan looked shocked for only a moment before he got up from the couch. “Yeah, okay. Come here.” He reached for me then, pulling me into his arms. I leaned against his chest, breathing in his woodsy scent. His hand rubbed up and down my back, and for the first time since it had started thundering, my body relaxed.
With me still clinging to him, Ryan shuffled us across the room to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand, the other still wrapped around me. I let go of him and crawled under the covers. He followed behind me.
The mattress was maybe full size at best, so it was a tight fit. Once he was settled, Ryan extended his arm, welcoming me to him. I didn’t hesitate, curling into his side and leaning my head against his chest.
The storm continued to rage outside, loud cracks of thunder releasing from the sky every few minutes. Lightning streaked through the clouds, illuminating the world outside of our little cabin. Rain ricocheted off the roof, sounding louder than I’m sure it actually was. The wind howled as it rustled against the trees.
