Page 81 of The Reunion

‘Most Likely to Kill Each Other’

I’m in a stand-off with Ryan, whose eyes glint and crinkle at the corners with barely restrained laughter, until I finally snatch the flask out of his outstretched hand and take a swig, admitting to the fact that, yes, okay, I did have a sex dream about him. Once. Like, forever ago. It was hardly intentional or anything.

He drank, too, though, so at least it’s not just me being humiliated here in our second round of Never Have I Ever.

‘Check your phone again,’ I snap at him, before he does laugh at me. ‘Have you got a signal yet?’

He sighs. ‘Ash …’

I check mine for the billionth time, even though I already know what I’m going to see. A screen full of error messages letting me know about all the texts to Hayden that have failed to send. He won’t just go home and not try to find me to say goodbye though, will he? So he’ll notice I’m not at the party and he’ll find me eventually, right? We won’t have to, I don’t know, smash a window and escape that way, or risk being trapped here until Monday morning …

Just as my brain starts to run away with itself about how bad this situation might be, there’s a shriek from the other side of the locked door.

There’s a muffled voice and then a shrill response of, ‘Are you kidding me? It’s not just a bit of water. The fucking sprinkler system! Oh, God, I’m so fired. And my shoes are going to be ruined.’

Ryan and I gawp at each other for a moment before springing into action. His body crowds behind mine as we both pound on the door, yelling ‘hello’ and ‘help’ and all that kind of stuff. The sound of feet splashing in our direction and the arrival of our rescuers – Bryony being one of them, from the sound of it – has adrenaline shooting through my veins.

‘Ash, you in there?’

Oh, thank God, it’s Hayden! I knew he wouldn’t abandon me.

Seriously, shoutout to his dad-honed instincts for trouble.

‘Yes! Hi! It’s me! The door’s locked itself, and I—’

‘Is Ryan in there with you?’ he shouts through the door.

Bryony screeches, ‘We all thought you two had killed each other!’

Ryan laughs, his breath hot at my ear and neck with the sound, sending a delicious little shiver down my spine. He doesn’t move away and his left hand is braced against the door, near my waist, so he’s completely encasing me. The proximity does things to me, just like that lean he did earlier.

I wonder how long we would’ve carried on enjoying each other, oblivious to the rest of the world. How long we could’ve hidden out here.

He’s saying, ‘Hayden, mate, Bryony, can confirm – Ryan here. Proof of life! Get us out of here, will you?’

‘No worries! I’ve got the code saved somewhere in an email … Give me a couple of minutes, okay?’ Bryony tells us. ‘Try not to kill each other, LOL!’

I turn away from the door, expecting this to be the moment Ryan steps back – only he doesn’t.

I don’t know what’s going on between us here; our latest argument and my apology didn’t feel like the petty sniping we would both default to around each other. It felt heavy, real. I’m not sure if that shift is because we’ve grown up, or because we had sex, but I don’t suppose it matters anyway. It’s still shifted. The fragile sense of mutual understanding and sarcastic quips we exchanged in the last few minutes since I apologised feels so tentative, I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing and ruining it, even in an attempt to get closer to him again.

But Ryan lifts a hand to push some wet hair back from my face, and my eyes slide closed, and for once I’m glad to let him take the lead, grateful for his ridiculously high levels of self-confidence. He doesn’t seem scared I’ll push him away.

His palm stays on my face, cupping my cheek, fingers splayed back into my hair and resting against my neck. And I want to sink into him – not to kiss him, just to let myself be held by him.

‘What are you doing to me, Ashleigh?’ he asks, just like he did earlier, but that’s different this time, too. This isn’t hoarse and turned on; it’s quiet and yearning, in a way I never would’ve imagined Ryan to be capable of, and I didn’t know I was the kind of person to want – to need – to hear that.

I don’t know when Ryan started being someone I wanted, but I know he’s always been tangled up in a mess of emotions I carry around with me. Even if he weren’t such a public figure, I’m certain he would’ve been impossible to forget.

I also don’t know how to answer him, so I just lean into his touch. I cover his hand with one of mine and hold his wrist with the other, wordlessly begging him not to move.

‘It could be, you know,’ he murmurs.

My eyes open to search his face. The dark intensity in his gaze, the glimmer of hopefulness there, the firm press of his lips into a straight line.

‘Could be what?’

‘Romantic,’ Ryan tells me. ‘If you wanted.’

---