Page 11 of The Downside of Love
“Our dad is a tyrant,” Shane adds. “Fucking hates Stryder.”
And there is the truth I’ve been trying to avoid.
A look passes between Rory and Ryan, unsaid words being sent back and forth. “Uh, you can sleep on my couch if you like,” Rory offers, sending my brain into a tailspin. “It’s really small, but you’re welcome to stay there.”
Staying at Rory’s place never even crossed my mind and the mere thought of it has my heart pounding at a rapid pace.
Stepping in, Ryan says, “He can stay with me. I have the pull-out mattress in my couch and a little bit more extra space than you do.” I knew Ryan had a little bit more space, so that’s closer to what I was thinking.
Staying with Rory wouldn’t work. I would want to spend every night in her bed, making love to her, burying myself so deep inside of her, trying to make her forget Colby ever existed.
Holding my hands up, I say, “Just direct me which way to go. Anywhere but my dad’s house.” Standing from the stool, I pull the keys from my pocket and hold them up between the girls. “Someone is going to have to drive my mom’s car though.”
Smirking, Rory snags the keys and says, “I’ll do it.”
Chapter Three
STRYDER
Oh.
Fuck.
I can barely lift my head.
Hell, I can barely lift my body.
Strewn out across a very unfamiliar mattress with a bar pressing into my stomach, shirt nowhere to be found, I check all my limbs to make sure they have feeling.
Toes and fingers are wiggling, so I’m not dead.
Slowly, I open my left eye and peer over the space in which I’m lying.
Purple couch. Colorful pillows. White entertainment center. I know this place.
But from where?
“Good morning.” Smooth, sexy voice.
Ryan.
Rolling to my side, carefully, the sheet falling across my bare chest, I spot Ryan, sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a light pink camisole and tiny matching shorts.
No bra.
There’s no denying it; she’s hot as fuck. I might be in love with her best friend, but I can admit Ryan is gorgeous.
Her bright blonde hair is wild with waves, sticking out on all ends, her face devoid of makeup showcasing her natural beauty, and her little hands are wrapped around a cup of coffee I so desperately want to steal from her.
“Hey,” I croak out, my voice deep and rough. I nod at her coffee cup. “Can I have a sip?”
She hands me the cup, and I take a giant gulp, willing the caffeine to wake me up. Five nights in a fucking row of blackout drinking is finally catching up to me. I feel like a dead carcass on the side of the road.
Eyeing Ryan from over the cup of coffee, I say, “Do you always wear those kind of pajamas?”
Smiling, she shakes her head and stands from the edge of the bed, heading to the kitchen, her small ass swaying from side to side, the shorts she’s wearing slung low on her hips, revealing a small patch of her tan skin. “Just be happy I’m wearing something. Usually there are no clothes involved when I go to bed.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Ryan is free-spirited. Optional clothing sounds like a motto she’d live by.
