Page 1 of Breaking Ryan Baylor

A Future Fight(1)

His bedroom door slamming shut was a recently familiar sound to which she’d grown accustomed. It shocked her that it was still on the hinges, to be honest. Tonight’s trigger events resulted in a heated argument on the first part of the freezing walk back from the club, silence for the second part, and then this.

Whatever this was.

She tossed her phone onto the counter, crossed her arms, and waited, wondering if she would get the silent treatment, the abs, or both. Right on cue, his door flew open. Seconds later, he was standing in front of her, now shirtless.

Don’t look at him.

Don’t look at him.

“Amara…”

“Ry, I’m not doing this with you right now,” she asserted instinctively, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. She’d known from the moment she’d met those eyes with her own that they held the potential to be dangerous in ways for which she couldn’t have possibly prepared.

And then, of course, there was the matter of his abs.

“I was out of line. I’m sorry. Can we just talk?”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

He closed his eyes and leaned against the refrigerator, one arm up over his head. “I think we do.”

“You know what happens when we ‘talk’, Ryan.”

She grabbed a water bottle off the countertop and began to fill it up at the fridge where he was leaning. It was about halfway full before she felt his other arm slip around her hips, his chest pressing against her back, and his chin resting on top of her head. “Ryan, don’t.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t love him, Ryan.”

“I love you, Amara.”

“No, you don’t. You’re just drunk.”

“Tell me how to fix this. I wanna fix this.”

“This isn’t yours to fix, Ryan.” She capped the bottle, wriggled out of his grasp, grabbed her phone, and headed for her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She flung herself onto her bed and lit up her screen, where a single text awaited.

J: You still coming over?

And now, on top of everything else, she had to deal with this.

She set her phone on the nightstand, sighed, and pulled the blanket up over her head. Though desperate to fall asleep and forget that this whole night happened, it was impossible; tonight’s argument kept playing on repeat.

And it had gotten ugly.

“Hey, wait up!” he called, jogging to catch up with her after she’d tried unsuccessfully to sneak home from the bar. “Um, so what the hell was that tonight? Still just friends?”

She turned around to face him, maintaining her pace and distance in front of him. “You know, I’m surprised you noticed anything at all since you had a thousand girls literally groping you all night long.”

“They’re fans, Amara. That’s a little different.”

“Fans.” She laughed bitterly. “Right. Everything with you is always a little different, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is a little different, just like the way you moaned on his cock versus mine. Or are we just not gonna talk about that because it makes you uncomfortable?”

As difficult as it was, she knew better than to give him the reaction he wanted and just kept walking. “Mar, come on, stop. Hey!” he snapped, clutching her arm a little too hard and pulling her towards him. “So, was this happening the whole time I was out in Worcester?”

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