“It was fun.” I turn towards her, ready to change out of the dress, and that’s when I see him. Ryland. Leaning casually against the doorway, watching us without a word.
The look in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat. Dark and blazing, adoring and raw. He’s staring at me, eyes devouring my body with a naked worship I’ve never seem before: pure intensity, sharp and true, as if the air between us could catch alight from just the shock that races between us.
My pulse kicks. I feel naked under his stare, even though I’m fully clothed.
Brit turns. “How long have you been loitering there?”
“I was just admiring your genius,” Ryland replies, slipping into an easy grin. He strolls forward, but my heart is still racing from the look that passed between us. He reaches out his hand to me, and I flinch back, my body still on fire.
He gives me a quizzical look, and I realize he’s just offering to help me down. I take his hand.
I feel the touch race everywhere, firelight in my veins.
“Thanks,” I murmur, looking away. I feel my cheeks flush red as I snatch my hand away and grab my regular clothes in a bundle from the bench. I hurry down the hall to the bathroom without a word and slam the door behind me.
What was that?
I catch my breath, still reeling, but I can’t shake the memory of Ryland’s dark stare branded into my mind. Nobody’s ever looked at that way before, as if I’m so precious, so perfect.
As if I’m everything.
Nobody’s ever made me feel this intensely aware of my body, every molecule in my system humming with heat and restless energy. I couldn’t feel more alive if he’d strapped a fifty volt charge to my chest and hit the paddles.
All from a single look.
I try to shut it off again. I gently strip the wedding dress over my head and lay it over the back of a chair. I pull on my regular sundress and pull my hair back up into a messy bun. By the time I step cautiously out of the bathroom again, I’ve almost pulled myself back under control. It wasn’t about me, I tell myself, it was just the dress. I’m seeing things that aren’t there, on edge with hormones and mixed-up memories.
Then Ryland glances over as I enter the living room again, and I realize with a sinking feeling that I didn’t imagine a single thing.
He still has that dark intensity in his stare, that same knowing gaze that pierces through all my defenses, stripping me bare. Naked. Raw.
“…And these are for a client I did last year.” Brit is showing him her portfolio, a collection of photos and sketches. Ryland turns back to the book.
“Look at you,” he says admiringly, reaching to ruffle her hair. “People lined up around the block to work with you. You really made it, didn’t you?”
Brit ducks away, looking self-conscious. “Please. Hunter’s the real reason they all come around. They think hiring me will score them points with his fancy society family.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Ryland insists. “You’ve come a long way from tearing up thrift store clothes all over the living room floor. I’m proud of you,” he adds, in a quiet voice.
Brit blushes and acts unconcerned, starting to clear away the mess. Still, I catch the look on her face. She’s no different to me when it comes to our brothers: we can complain all we want, but at the end of the day, we want them to be proud of us, and hate to cause them pain.
Brit notices me loitering there. “Oh great, you’re all changed.” She reaches out and takes the dress from me, reverently laying it across the empty table again. “You looked amazing,” she adds. “And I’m not just saying that because I made it myself.”
I smile, still feeling the burn of Ryland’s gaze on me. Is he even looking anymore? I don’t know. I’ll feel him with me for days.
“We’ll have to hang out again when I’m out of the bunker,” Brit says, gesturing around. “I need to work around the clock now to get done in time, but will you be in town next week?”
“I’ll be here.” I nod.
“Great.” Brit gives me a brief hug. “Ryland will take you home.”
My heart lurches. I look over at him, feeling a shiver. Being alone with him now after what just happened is a risk I don’t know if I should take. Temptation, too close, too real.
“You left your bike,” Ryland explains, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve got it in the truck.”
I nod slowly. “Thanks,” I whisper, wishing I could trust myself more than this.
“OK, well I won’t keep you any more,” Brit declares, clapping her hands together. If she sees the tension between me and Ryland she doesn’t let on as she shows us out to the front door. “You, call me tomorrow,” she tells him, “I might need help with some supplies, and you’ve got seven years to make up for.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gives a wry salute. Brit thanks me again for my help, and then the door closes and we’re alone on the front porch.
There’s a beat. I can’t look over at him. I can’t take another step.
“So…” Ryland murmurs, and I feel his voice roll like sweet molasses down the back of my spine. “I guess I’m taking you home.”
“Uh huh,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around myself. It’s seventy and sunny out, but I still feel a shiver from his closeness, just inches away. I keep my gaze fixed ahead as I take a step towards the truck, and then another.