Page 50 of Loathing Ryan
Now, I couldn’t imagine life without her.
Our next steps were still so undecided, knowing that we both had different plans for after graduation. But I did know that I was willing to try to make it work with her. I didn’t want to risk losing her now that I knew what it was like to have her.
Izabel’s hands roamed over my body, tugging at my shorts and pushing them down my hips. I followed her lead, working to get rid of the clothes between us. She moaned when my hands cupped her breasts, gently playing with her nipples and strumming them until they were stiff.
Her hand covered my cock, stroking it firmly, knowing exactly how I liked it. Even though we had only been together this short time, I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.
“Fuck, Bells,” I groaned when she stroked me harder. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
I pushed her back on the mattress, and she spread her legs wide, letting me know she wanted more. Capturing her lips again, I ground my body against hers, making sure she was ready.
I was just about to enter her when the cabin door swung open, hitting the side of the house and forcing our heads to snap toward the commotion. A scraggly older man stood in the doorway. He was tall and slender, with a white beard reaching down to his chest. I would almost say he was more surprised to see us. Almost.
“Who in the Sam Hill are you two?”
22
IZABEL
His name was Mac.
Mac Stevenson.
He owned the little cabin that had become our home for the last week and a half. He used the house for weekend and hunting getaways, so it wasn’t his full-time residence. We would have met him, eventually. Though we were grateful to finally have been rescued, I’m sure I spoke for Ryan, too, when I said we would have preferred literally any other time.
So, instead of spending another day out in our little cabin together, we sat side by side in a worn-down pickup truck as the older man drove us back to camp. Once Ryan and I had scrambled to get our clothes on, we attempted to explain why we were in his house. Mac listened to our story with rapt attention and a solemn frown, understanding the gravity of the situation. Thankfully, he was more than willing to get us back to Camp Wildwood right away and out of his cabin under one condition.
“Now, if I send you back, you all need to learn a few things about boundaries,” he grumbled at us. “Don’t go waltzing into people’s vacation homes and make it some personal love shack, you hear?”
Ryan and I had both blushed furiously at that. I was sure I would be blushing about this whole encounter for the rest of my life. Despite our utter embarrassment, we mumbled apologies and agreements, and he hustled us out of his residence and into his old green Ford.
It was a classic truck cab with bench seats, so we were nice and cozy. I was smashed in the middle between Mac and Ryan. With every jostle of the truck, I had the option to fall into Mac or lean into Ryan. I chose the latter of the two for apparent reasons. Even still, every few minutes, my eyes darted over to look at Ryan, who seemed not to be paying an ounce of attention to me. His face was turned toward the window for our entire ride—his jaw clenched tight, and his hands balled into fists in his lap.
An uncomfortable sense of uncertainty settled in my stomach, and I twisted my hands in my lap, trying not to overthink it. I was sure Ryan was just upset about getting interrupted. I agreed it was pretty mortifying, but his radio silence was almost worse. I kept turning over thoughts in my brain, which I knew were all anxiety-driven and not based on rationale.
Now everything felt awkward. What if we made it back to camp and Ryan didn’t want to be friends anymore? I worried that we would go back to Wildwood and our friends, and he would want things to return to what they were before. He would go back to his pranks and jokes, and I would go back to hating him. If hating him was even possible now.
I glanced at him again, watching his golden hair fly back from the breeze through the open window. I didn’t think I could ever go back to hating him as I did before. I knew him too well by this point. He had become everything to me in the past week. But what if I didn’t mean everything to him?
The truck ambled along the road. Almost as though Ryan could hear my inner monologue and turmoil, he finally reached over and grabbed my hand. His fingers gently smoothed out my own, allowing me to release my clenched fists. He still didn’t look over at me, but his hand squeezed mine reassuringly. Even though I still had no idea what he was thinking, the small gesture helped put my mind at ease, at least a bit.
As we drove along, I concluded that it was a good thing Ryan hadn’t tried to walk this road to search for help. We had already been in the car for almost an hour, and from my occasional glances at the speedometer, we weren’t going slow. Mac chattered away–apparently no longer feeling the awkwardness of finding us in the throes of passion–asking us questions here and there that Ryan didn’t bother to answer. Mac tried to engage us, I’m sure to fill any of the uncomfortable silence. But it wasn’t working.
After what felt like eons, the old truck finally crept up to the gates of Camp Wildwood. As soon as the car stopped, Ryan threw open the door and hopped out. He turned and offered me his hand, helping me out too.
It was almost like we were royalty making our grand appearance. Within minutes, counselors, headmasters, and our friends swarmed us. Emergency services had been called and were on their way. Our parents were notified to meet us at the hospital. Our classmates hugged us and asked for all the information about what had happened. It was chaos.
“Everyone back up! NOW!” A familiar blonde pushed through the crowd as she walked toward us. Her boyfriend followed closely behind her. “Move!”
She shoved everyone who got in her way until she was right in front of me. Juliet looked over at me once and then over to Ryan. “Damn, what the hell happened to you guys?”
Ryan and I glanced at each other and shared a small smile before I turned back to Jules. “You really don’t want to know.”
“Uh,” she started as she held up her finger. “Wrong. You will tell me everything one way or the other.”
I hugged Jules, and she handed me my phone and wallet that I had left in our dorm before the kayak trip. Ryan was able to high-five and bro-hug his two best friends before we were ushered away into the counselors’ offices. Ryan stayed beside me, offering me support as I hobbled in. My still-swollen ankle was proving to be a bit of an issue. Once we made it, we were instructed to wait for the paramedics to show up. We probably wouldn’t see our friends again until they finished camp. They still had a few days left. It was funny; at the beginning of the summer, I would have done anything to not be at camp, and now all I wanted was to be here. With Ryan.
The counselors left us in a small room with a couch and a TV. They made sure to bring us snacks and bottles of water while we waited. Ryan flopped down on the sofa right away. His head fell against the back of the couch, his eyes closing almost immediately. I stood in the middle of the room, unsure where to go. Did I sit with him? Maybe he wanted his space after being forced to be together for so long. There were a few chairs on the other side of the room I could sit in.
