Page 73 of What are the Risks
When I checked them over, looking for Ryker and coming up short, I couldn’t figure out whether I felt relieved or worried.
“Ruby?”
Tori strolled out of the kitchen, clutching a glass of water. She was dressed in nothing but one of Brady’s football tees, her eyes partially closed as if she was sleepwalking.
“Hey,” I softly said, not wanting to wake the living room crowd. “I have an early flight. When you see Ryker, can you please tell him I had to leave?”
She slowly nodded, stifling a yawn. “Wait, where is he?”
“Good question.” I glanced down at my phone. The Uber was here. “I’ll see you later.”
Shutting the front door as quietly as I could, I jogged down the front path to the waiting car. I held my breath with every step, half-expecting Ryker to burst from the house and come after me – like a scene out of a cliché rom-com.
But the more I pictured it, the less sure I became. Did I even want him to? How would I react if he did? It wasn’t like it would be my love interest chasing me down – it would be my best friend, the guy next door, the boy who’d witnessed all of my awkward phases.
Maybe space wasn’t such a bad thing. It would give me time to figure out how I felt about him kissing me.
Not only was Ryker the second boy I’d ever kissed, but he was also the first in eight years who wasn’t Noah. That was a heavy reminder that Noah and I were truly over. I’d never kiss him again.
Honestly, I doubt I would kiss Ryker again either. While my total make out tally now stood at two, Ryker was like a kissing-hall-of-famer. Kisses didn’t mean to him what they meant to me.
Back in high school, there were parties when he’d hook up with more than one person. That hadn’t changed in college. If anything, it had amplified.
Perhaps I’d been hookup number one last night. Maybe Ryker was Goldilocks, and I was simply the first bowl of porridge he’d tried before moving on to a hotter, slimmer, and funnier bowl that belonged to a sexier bear.
The metaphor was a little messed up, but it weirdy suited the circumstances. Because if he hadn’t slept in his own bed, it meant he’d slept in someone else’s.
*
Once arriving at the airport, I navigated through it on autopilot, experiencing déjà vu from having done this exact same thing only yesterday.
After retrieving my things from security, I noticed a missed call and message on my phone from Ryker. Of course he’d called during the one window I wasn’t obsessively staring at the screen.
Ryker: I’m the worst. I fell asleep last night and my phone died. I only just plugged it in and saw the time.
Ruby: It’s all good. I hope you’re not too hungover.
Ryker: I didn’t pass out. I was sober.
Ryker: Where are you? Can you talk?
Ruby: I’m about to board.
In twenty minutes. But he didn’t know that.
Ryker: Call me when you land.
*
I didn’t call or message Ryker when I arrived home, because I was now living in the post-kiss universe – the one where I second-guessed everything when it came to him.
“Are you okay?” Bri asked later that night, while we were eating dinner.
Like me, she was dressed in her nursing scrubs. We were both working the graveyard shift.
“Just tired,” I lied, a yawn escaping before I could stop it. “Late night, early start – you know how it is.”
After finishing up, I loaded our dishes into the dishwasher before heading upstairs to pack my work bag.
