Page 9 of Wilder Puck
I stare at the phone for a moment and overthink. I suck in a breath and shove my phone back into my pocket. I can’t go to the game because I’m starting a new job. If I tell Ryan that’s the case, he’s not going to let it go. I don’t know why he’s convinced I’m his good luck charm. We’ve had this argument before, and he seriously believes I’m good luck. It’s a lot of pressure to put on me. But he seriously won’t like hearing that I need more money. Not when he’s loaded.
Ryan Wilder: Please
Baddie Addie: I can’t. Sorry.
There’s a loud knock on my apartment door. Ryan, theyesman, walks right in because he has a key. I’m sitting on my couch when he steps in.
“Baddie,” he calls out, noticing me on the couch.
I check the time, and he must’ve gotten off practice twenty minutes early. I’m still in the same clothes from work. As soon as I came home and sat on the couch to do some accounting for the coffee shop, I couldn’t get back up.
“How can I help you?” I ask as he heads towards my fridge. He opens it and pulls out an Olipop. When he chugs it, his shirt rises, and my heart races at the sight of his hip bone.
He puts the can on the counter and says, “I really need you to come to the game.” He walks behind the couch I’m sitting on. He’s so tense, and I wonder if it’s his dad that’s stressing him out. “We’re playing against the Saints tomorrow. They’re better than us, and we can’t afford to lose.”
I stand, meeting him in the forced hallway of my couch and kitchen counter. It’s a tight squeeze, a one-way lane. Then his eyes do something they never do. His gaze flicks down my body and then they dart back to my eyes. A silent moment passes between us, and I’m screaming at the gut feeling to shut up because there’s no way Ryan Wilder just looked at me like anything more than a friend. A “sister”. A bestie.
I collect my thoughts, remembering what he just said. “Ryan,” I say, grabbing his shoulders. He’s defeated, and I know something else is going on with him. His eyes never look at me sideways. I ask, “Is it Hailey?”
He shakes his head. “What? No. We’re fine.”
“Your dad?”
“No,” he says. And now I’m confused by the sad puppy dog eyes. “It’s you.”
“Me?” I mutter.
He frowns. “Yeah. You’re not coming, and you’re acting like it’s not a big deal. What are you not telling me?”
I walk away from him, and he says, “See what I mean.”
I sigh. “Ryan, that’s not fair.”
“You can talk to me about anything.”
“Yeah, well, it’s embarrassing to admit that I can’t afford this place anymore. Rent was raised by a few hundred, and I need to get another job.”
I try to walk away again, but he grabs my hand and pulls me to him. It’s intensely intimate, and I’m staring at him while the heat from his hand radiates in my palm. He rips his hand away from mine, probably realizing how affectionate that was.
“Baddie, you work way too much,” he states pointing at the paperwork all over the coffee table.
I chuckle. “I do not.”
He protests, not letting me finish. “Yes, you do. You work way too hard day in and day out for your coffee shop. There has to be something else you can do. Maybe let go of one of your workers.”
I shake my head at that crazy idea. “I’m not doing that.”
He holds his hands and says, “I know, but hear me out. It would cut costs–”
“I hear you, Ryan, but that’s not happening. Every business has its costs, and I won’t sacrifice what’s working well because my rent increased.”
Ryan shakes his head and softly says, “I know you’re figuring things out on your own. You’re very good at that but let me remind you that your best friend lives in a mansion all by himself where you could live without any expenses.”
I burst out into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”
His eyes are wide, wondering what he said to make me laugh.
“Ryan,” I scold. “I am figuring it out. I’m not going to live with you.” I lean in. “Are you crazy? I’d have to hear you have vanilla sex with Hailey every weekend?”
