Page 30 of Ryder

“I guess this is goodbye.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Why does it feel like we spent more than one night together? Why is my heart cutting in my chest so loud that I’m sure she can hear it?

“I guess it is.”

“Well, you know I’ll write.”

I chuckle.

She’s the queen of texting, but I’m not even sure that’s a good idea. Now there are too many memories. Memories that will cloud my vision forever, because I’ll never see Crystal in the same light that I did before.

“Take care of yourself.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I had a great time.”

“Me too.”

She leans over, plants a kiss on my cheek and whispers, “Goodbye, Ryder.”

And then she's gone.

“Goodbye,” I say as I watch her walk into the hotel. Taking my heart, what’s left of it, with her as she goes. At the last minute, she turns, giving me a small wave.

I give her a chin lift, ignoring the lump in my throat and the dread that runs through me knowing that this is it. I won’t see her again for fuck knows how long. But it has to be this way. We both know it…

I jump in the shower, washing the day's oil and dirt off me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her all day. It’s a wonder I got any work done. I know what I have to do, even if I know it’s wrong.

Once I’ve changed into fresh clothes, I slide my cut back on and head out the door. I hop on my Harley, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the clubhouse or the lot, in case they stop me and ask me to do something. I need to see her. To tell her how I feel. It’s selfish of me, because I know it’ll tug on her heart strings. The last thing I want is for her to feel sorry for me, but it didn’t seem like it was a mercy fuck on her part last night, or this morning for that matter. Crystal is, and always has been, an independent person who is also strong willed. She takes after her dad in that way. She’s stubborn. Yet when I drove her back to the hotel this morning, she was quiet, hardly saying anything. Surely she’s not thinking this could be some kind of permanent thing? She’s in college; no doubt she’d have guys chasing her all over campus. While that leaves me feeling uneasy, I also know I’ve got no right to tell her she’s mine after one night together. Even if that’s how I feel.

But I’ve gotta make it right… I speed through town, running a couple of lights because she leaves early in the morning. This is my last chance to see her in person. I didn’t even text or call her beforehand, so banging down her door isn’t totally out of the question.

I pull up into a parking space alongside the hotel. I take off my helmet and shove the bandana covering my mouth down. Then I run both hands through my hair.What are you doing?

I don’t even fucking know, but I’m here. If I tell her how I feel — something I’m still coming to terms with myself — then that’ll be that. It’ll be her turn to either reject me or…or what?

What the fuck am I even doing here?

This is nuts. I have nothing to offer her, and even if I did, it’ll take years before I earn a decent living and can afford things. Crystal likes to think she’s not born in the lap of luxury, but I know better. Even if she doesn’t act like a spoiled brat most of the time, rich kids think differently. They’ve never had to worry about anything. It wouldn’t matter at first, but later on she’d get bored of not being able to do all the things she’s used to doing. I should be able to buy her things and take her out on fancy dinners, but I can’t afford that.

You’re not good enough.

The urge to see it through pounds inside my chest, while the more reasonable part of my brain tells me to run. Leave her. She doesn’t need me fucking things up for her.

I halt, about to swing my leg over, when my head snaps up. It’s like she called to me, even if she’s completely unaware I’m even here.

Crystal’s arm is linked through another girl’s as they walk up the street. She’s laughing with her friends, enjoying herself, just as she should be doing on spring break. They come to a halt outside a restaurant. One of the other girls behind them is talking animatedly, clearly telling a story, then they all fall about laughing when she’s done.

Crystal isn’t sitting around brooding about me. Far from it. She’s not holed up in her room lovesick, pining over someone she shouldn't want or can’t have. She’s doing what I should be doing: having fun with my friends without a care in the world.

I sit back on my sled, my eyes glued to her.

This is wrong. I shouldn’t be here.

Pouring my heart out to her won’t do any good. Crystal may have been a virgin until last night, but we both know there’s no taming her. She’s a free spirit. And what would she even do? Move schools to be with me? And then what? Invite her to the club as my ol’ lady while I’m still a prospect? She wouldn’t be allowed at the club until I’m patched in, because she’s not fresh meat for one of the brothers to hit on. She’s mine. And it’s because she’s mine that I grip the handlebars and grit my teeth.

She hugs one of her friends, then says something and the girl smiles and nods. That’s Crystal; always making everyone else feel better. It’s how she is.

I swallow the lump in my throat, and the urge to ignore everything I’m seeing and feeling stronger than ever before. It overtakes every cell in my body until I’m grinding my teeth, ready to pounce, yet unable to physically move.

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