Resisting Ryder(7)

Tired of crying and miraculously energized from lying in bed all day, she decided to get up and grab a glass of water from the kitchen. As she tiptoed down the hall towards the kitchen, she walked past her phone, which had been turned off all day. She knew the moment she turned it on she would have a million voicemails and text messages from people checking on her, but she did it anyway.

The first voicemail was from her mother. The second voicemail was also from her mother. The third voicemail was from her best friend, Brooklyn, as were a myriad of text messages. But the fourth voicemail caught her by surprise.

“Hey, Stormy. It’s Hayden,” the voicemail said. “I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I’m here if you need anything.”

Hayden, her high school sweetheart, paled in comparison to the kind of man Jett was, Stormy knew that, but she couldn’t help but breathe a happy sigh in knowing that he took time out of his day to think about her. She would never be able to love Hayden as deeply as she loved Jett, but a part of her would always love him. He was her first love. If anything, he would be a good place card to fill the void when her days got too lonely to bear.

Hayden was night and day compared to Jett. Jett was the quintessential bad boy with a tiny bit of a jealous streak. Hayden was the quintessential high school quarterback who could have any pick of the litter. Hayden dumped Stormy the minute he went off the college, and she held a flame for him until the day she met Jett Jacks.

She was startled by a knock at the door and almost dropped her phone on the hard floor but caught it just in time. She peeked out the window and saw Ryder’s BMW parked in the driveway. He was back.

She swept back her hair and checked her reflection in a nearby mirror to make sure she didn’t have any rogue mascara streaks down her face. As soon as she confirmed that she was somewhat presentable, she unlocked the front door and let him in.

“Hey,” she said with a smile. “Come on in.”

Ryder stared at her swollen, reddened face and puffy eyes and looked sad for her.

“You doing okay, kid?” he said as he walked inside. “You need a hug or something?”

Stormy shook her head, but Ryder stepped towards her and wrapped his arms around her anyway, squeezing her tight. Stormy tensed up at first, but after a few minutes she let go and just let him hold her for a bit. She buried her face in his jacket, which had the same familiar leather jacket smell Jett always had. It was nice to be held, and if she closed her eyes and used her imagination, it was almost like Jett was holding her.

They lingered in the doorway in their shared embrace for a bit until Stormy pushed back and stepped away.

“Thanks,” she said, although she was a little embarrassed. She was surprised by how touchy-feely Ryder was since Jett was the complete opposite. She wasn’t used to it.

She glanced at the clock, which read a little past five. For the first time all day, her stomach growled.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. He had clearly heard the rumble. “I haven’t eaten yet. Want me to whip something up for us?”

“I guess,” she said. “If you want. I don’t have a lot of groceries here.”

“I’m sure I can find something,” he said as he oozed confidence. “I’m pretty resourceful. Growing up with a mom who never cooked kind of forced me to learn that skill early on.”

She loved how comfortable Ryder made himself in her home. It made her feel like she had known him a lot longer than a day, and it made her feel more at ease around him. There was just something about him, and she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She sat at the kitchen table in awe of him as he ransacked her pantry and cabinets, pulling random pots, pans and utensils out as well as the random canned vegetable or box of dry pasta. He was in his own little world as he whipped up some sort of dinner creation. Stormy couldn’t help but watch the way he moved, the way his arms flexed when he whisked the sauce, and the way he licked his fingers when he sampled it. Jett could hardly boil water or heat up frozen pizza. Ryder, apparently, really knew his way around the kitchen.

She admired how independent and inventive Ryder was. He seemed so self-assured the entire time. He didn’t even care or notice that Stormy was watching his every move in the kitchen.

After a few more minutes, he plated the piping hot food and brought it over to the table and sat down next to her.

“I don’t know what to call this,” he said as he handed her a fork. “It should be fairly edible. If not, pizza’s on me.”

Stormy laughed. “Thanks for cooking. This looks good.”

“Anything you need,” he said. “It’s the least I could do for you since you’re letting me crash here.”