Page 40 of Only the Small Bones
Yes.
“Yes?” I asked. “Yes?” This time I let the excitement break free, and Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yes!” I whooped, leaning over the island to cup his face between my hands. I planted a quick kiss on his mouth, recoiling once I realized what I’d done. My stool rocked back, and I clung to the island to keep from falling with it.
Ryan gritted his teeth, the vein in his forehead bulging.
“I-I’m sorry,” I spluttered. “Ryan… I didn’t mean to—”
He closed his eyes and unclenched a fist, holding a finger up to halt my incoming onslaught of words. Splaying his palms on the island, he tapped each finger until he got to ten, then repeated the process.
Opening his eyes, he picked up his fork and started eating as if nothing had happened. He didn’t storm off, not to be seen for days. Didn’t shrink in on himself, or glare at me either. After having enough of me staring at him dumbfounded, he jabbed his fork toward my plate, telling me to eat.
In a daze, I righted my stool, licking my lips and finding it hard to feel bad about having the taste of him on me. I kept my mouth shut after that, knowing when he needed a moment to even himself out again.
When we were done, he scooped up our empty plates, depositing them into the sink before going to his room. Blowing out a breath, I gave my heart time to come down from the shock before heading for the shower.
Balancing happiness with regret proved to be difficult, like enjoying the beauty of a rose in your hand and feeling the pain of the thorns. Ryan agreed to go to the gala, but I’d screwed up in a big way by kissing him. I didn’t know whether to smile as I scrubbed myself clean, or stop and listen to the voices telling me how stupid I was.You’re sinking, they said.You have no business trying to keep anyone else from drowning.
I’d just stepped out of the shower, facing the mirror and tightening the towel around my hips when the sound of a hiss behind me sent dread slicing through my body.
“Fuck, Ryan!” I shouted, whirling on him. “You can’t just barge in here without knocking first!”
I realized too late he could still see my back through the mirror. Bile rose up my throat. I slammed the door on his baffled expression, pressing my forehead to it as I battled to keep my anger contained.
Peering at the damaging mural Ryan had gotten a perfect view of, my blood chilled and bone deep worry set in. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t face myself, so I avoided him forthe remainder of the afternoon, eating and taking meetings regarding the foundation in my room.
I half expected him to be long gone when I emerged from my room, or have a dozen or more questions. The city had gone dark by then, and Ryan sat on the living room floor, propped up against the window admiring his violin. I loved the way he cherished it. Made me think if I was ever lucky enough to have him, maybe he’d cherish me in the same way.
I’d never have him, though. Not when I reacted in such an abysmal way to him seeing the most damning thing about me. Not when I stood there too afraid to explain myself, too afraid of his reaction to my explanation. To hisrejectionof it.
He pointed toward the kitchen, lit only by the stove’s overhead lamp. The oven was set to warm, the scent of pasta breaking through the fog in my head.
“You cooked for me?” I whispered. “After how I treated you?”
He shrugged a shoulder, shuffling over to the coffee table for his bow before sitting on the arm of the couch to practice. It was odd. He behaved as though the incident never happened or he’d forgotten about it. But it had happened, and he hadn’t forgotten. He just seemed over it.
Otherwise he’d be asleep, or alone in his room, or taking over the library with his notepads and books. He wouldn’t be out here babysitting the dinner he’d prepared for me. His rapt attention on his instrument was an act. He’d waited up worrying about me like my mother often did when I’d lived at home.
“Thank you,” I said, hoping he also heard the apology in my tone. He paused mid note but didn’t look up at me, then continued to draw the bow over the strings.
My stomach cramped as soon as the first bite of food hit it. As much as I wanted to eat, my anxiety made the task near impossible. My lunch from earlier was still on my nightstand.
If I forced myself to eat now, I’d likely spend the next few hours bent over the toilet. I placed the leftovers in the refrigerator, then leaned against it to listen to Ryan play a little longer before making my way back to bed.
Moonlight poured in from the balcony, illuminating the spot on the wall I’d been staring at between meetings all day. A light knock sounded on my bedroom door, forcing me upright. “Come in.”
Ryan closed the door behind him before resting against it. I could smell his soap and shampoo from the bed, and the ribbed pajamas he now sported clung to him.
“You knocked,” I whispered, wavering between remaining calm or destroying everything in my vicinity. He shouldn’t have to knock. Not with me. I wish I didn’t need him to, but there were too many scars, triggers, and landmines still unaddressed. I’d need to tackle those first. I needed to find the courage to be totally honest with him. Not tonight, though. Tonight I wasn’t brave enough to do it.
He pushed off the door, taking baby steps toward the bed. His lips moved as he counted, the way my mother taught him to do when feeling anxious. Once he got to the foot of the bed he waited, maybe for me to make the next move. My heart began to race as I pulled the covers back.
Ryan rolled his shoulders, clenching and unclenching his hands.
The mattress dipped as he sank one knee into it before crawling over to the unoccupied spot. We situated ourselves on our sides, hands tucked under our cheeks as we gazed at one another, still a good distance away.
As the minutes ticked by he drew closer, until we shared the same air, exchanging panicked breaths. Soon the apprehension faded, and intoxication set in.
Ryan’s gaze traveled from my eyes to my parted mouth and back. I sank my fingers into my pillow to keep from shoving them into his hair. We nudged our heads forward at the same time, reducing the space between our lips.
