Page 60 of Only the Small Bones
In our own ways he and I were in recovery. I needed us at our best, at our strongest before presenting him with the worst thing about me. We were better than we were over a month ago, but still fragile. I let all the negative thoughts go and refocused on the man in front of me.
Now that we’d taken in each other’s smile, hair, and clothing, it was time to settle into the tension. It was there from the moment I entered the kitchen, but it lingered at the forefront now.
Was he thinking about the kiss he’d promised me? Or had he changed his mind? He had a right to, I just hoped not. I needed the feel of his soft lips on mine. I needed our mutual desperation to filter into my lungs and spread through my entire soul, nourishing me as it went.
Ryan broke eye contact, restoring the oxygen in the room. He slid the folder off the table, weighing it in his hand before holding it out to me.
“For me?” I grabbed it with childlike excitement. Ryan snatched it back before I could open it, gesturing behind me to my satchel. “What? You want me to open it later?”
He nodded, walking around me to tuck it into the satchel himself.
“Wait!” I blurted, but he was already withdrawing the gift I’d stashed in there for him. A stack of books wrapped in brown paper and tied together with twine. My excitement transferred to him.
“Yes, it’s for you. But!” I called out before he tore away the wrapping paper. “You can’t open it until I leave.”
He scowled at me.
“I mean… I suppose I’m open to a compromise.” I pointed to the folder tucked under his arm. He shoved the stack at my chest, freeing his hands so he could put the folder in my bag.
“Guess that means no deal, then, huh?” I sounded sadder than I was, but his sketches conveyed how he felt. Since I couldn’thearhow he felt about me, I was anxious to see it.
Maybe he felt bad for me, or maybe being so close to me made him crave my touch as much as I craved his. Ryan stepped into me, peeling his shirt collar down, exposing his neck and shoulder.
“Is this supposed to make up for me having to wait to open my present?” I lowered my nose to the spot below his ear, inhaling as I worked my way down. Ryan shivered, and I sank my teeth into his shoulder.
“I think I missed this the most,” I whispered, before kissing the sting away. I didn’t want to move from this position. I wanted to make a home against his skin. My arms itched to wraparound him, to hold him. Would this burning need for him ever cool down? No. I didn’t think it ever would.
Ryan let his shirt fall back into place, and then he… huggedme. Not one of those informal hugs where you bend at the waist and the chests never meet. Ryan slung his arms across my back and squeezed, his chin resting at the base of my neck.
After the initial shock wore off, I returned the hug, rocking us gently as I soaked up the scent of his shampoo. I pressed my lips to the side of his head, and he didn’t shrink away.
A timer went off, and Ryan extracted himself, hurrying over to the industrial sized stove.
“What’s that?” I waited behind him while he pulled a pan from the oven. “Is that fried chicken? How’d you accomplish that without frying it?” The kitchen smelled divine. I would’ve noticed earlier if I wasn’t busy noticing him.
Setting the hot pan on top of a metal trivet, Ryan removed the oven mitt and pulled out his phone again. I read from his screen.
“Oven-fried chicken?” I asked dubiously. He nodded, going over to the toaster oven and removing a rack of waffles. He’d been keeping them warm there.
Ryan bounced around the kitchen while I took a seat to clear his way. I watched in amusement as he got all the condiments together, then poured us fresh squeezed lemonade before sitting down across from me.
“Did you make this yourself too?” I took a sip, impressed when he nodded yes.
He urged me to dig in, nudging my plate closer to me. I laughed, reaching for my knife and fork.
“These are the best waffles I’ve ever had.” Granted, we’d both survived on Eggos, and these were made from scratch. Still, they were amazing. More so because he’d made them for me.
“Okay, you’re going to have to tell me how you got this chicken so crispy—in the oven.” My eyes bugged out, and Ryan’s shoulders shook with laughter as he texted me the sealed-lips emoji.
I pointed toward his untouched food. “Not hungry? Or too busy looking at me?”
Ryan tucked his hair behind his beet red ears and forked a piece of chicken into his mouth.
We were like love-sick puppies. Too scared to look away, but also too terrified to push for more. Whatever this was between us, it had been the slowest thing I’d ever experienced, with no finish line in sight. Under different circumstances, would I have wished for something different? Sure. But with him, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
After eating we talked for a long while. Well, I did all the talking—sometimes rambling—and he’d shoot me a text every now and then asking me to get to the point. Through it all, his eyes kept veering over to the counter where his gift rested.
“Go ahead, open it.” I’d been joking when I said he had to wait anyway, torturing him the way he loved to sometimes torture me.
