Page 79 of Ryder: Shadows and Desires
The Uber driver leans over to get a better look. “One heck of a party,” they say, pulling over.
“Yup,” Ryder replies, opening the door to get out.
I shut the door once I exit, loitering on the outskirts of this mansion. Ryder faces me as the driver pulls away, his eyes on the car before dropping his gaze down to me. “I don’t know what to say, alright?”
“Ryder, it’s okay. This is all fine. Let’s just focus onthis,” I reply, trying my best to move on, motioning to the house.
He takes a step closer, his heel digging into the stone driveway. “Look, it’s only been like two months since I first met you and a few weeks of flirting, but I can tell something is bothering you.”
I sigh and chew on my lip, huffing a little when I try to find the right words. “Okay... I just... You’re atmygym, which means I’m also responsible for making sure this runs perfectly foryou. And I’d honestly feel horrible if something happens and it throws you off too much. Ireallydon’t want to hurtanyof your chances at winning.” I pause to catch up with my thoughts. “It didn’t click until the last twenty-four hours. I don’t know. I’m really worried about messing this up.”
His posture shifts as he leans his weight on one leg.
“If it’s Heather you’re worried about, since this all changed when she talked to you—”
“No, it’s not her. It’s more—I feel like adistraction.”
Without hesitation, he resolutely replies, “Yeah, youarea distraction. You’re the best distraction... look, I’m a professional fighter. I can compartmentalize, if I need to. It’s what I do best, Jules. I deal with all the dumb shit and care for those that really mean a lot to me, and right now, that’s you.
“And if it’s the gym you’re worried about, no one is going to give a shit about us. Or even if they do, who cares? The media? Those assholes badgering anyone for a dramatic story? They don’t matter. They never have. Your gym will stand on its own, Jules… and look, I’m really sorry that Heather appeared out of thin air. I hate that she put you on the spot like that. Or that this is even happening.”
He was such a closed-off asshole when we met, and here he is, being vulnerable in front of a mansion full of people right after a fight, making my heart nearly trip over itself.
Taking him in, the man much taller than me, my eyes consume every detail of his hardened face—the very one that filled a warrior’s stadium only hours ago. He even has slight swelling on his left eyebrow, a reminder how very little time has passed since his victory.
My entire composure melts for him. “I really appreciate that, Ryder… Okay, you know what, you’re right. I’m sorry, too. Let’s go in and do whatever the hell people do in there,” I say with a smile. “You deserve to gloat a bit after that badass comeback.”
The concern leaves his gaze, replaced with relief. “Deal,” he says. “And fuck yeah, I do.”
I laugh as we approach the magnificent home, outdoor lights casting long shadows against the exterior, a deep beat resonating through the walls.
I don’t know if it’s wise to go in, knowing that Heather will seek him out, but the way he looked at me just now makes me feel like Ryder is completely worth it.
“Is this normally what it’s like? These parties?” I question, putting my hands in my pockets as we near the stairs. In truth, I’m incredibly nervous and out of place here, but I know him showing his face is important. And so is showing mine.
“Yeah, it’s pretty routine. We fight, celebrate if you win, and then rinse and repeat,” he replies, sticking close.
I eye the architecture that’s actual stone, not the stuff that they put in the newer neighborhoods. “This place is crazy expensive.”
“Welcome to the part of this that nearly all the fighters like.”
“So, like, is the guy that owns this house someone that follows the sport or something? Or is he a random guy celebrating tonight?”
“Huge MMA fan.” A bouncer nods to us as soon as he sees Ryder. “Daddy’s money paid for the place, and McDaniels now runs his own stuff, but continues to love the fighting scene. There’re definitely underground fighters here, too.”
“I don’t think I’ve been to anything like this.”
“Yeah, well you’re sticking with me tonight.” He places a hand behind my shoulders in a guiding manner. “Too many shitheads.”
My bottom lip nearly has a hole chewed into it from trying to prevent a giant grin from forming. An eruption of flapping butterflies swats away any fears. I really enjoy being near Ryder.
Fine. Feet first with him, then.
People are scattered everywhere in the dim lighting. Beautiful women flaunt their figures by wearing the scantiest of clothes. Some of the fighters have an eager swagger that makes me think of street fighting more than professional. A loud bass resonates through my feet. Marble floors and the glass of paintings reflect the multi-colored lights inside, bright illumination glowing from the backyard, which I can see through the windows.
My jaw drops when I see a man snorting coke off of someone’s tits in a corner. “Well, no shit, that really happens,” I say.
Ryder chuckles. “I don’t want to be here forthatlong. It was fun when I was younger.” He carefully looks around. “But it’s business now. I just want to say ‘hi’ to McDaniels, then think about bouncing.”
