He glances at my shirt as I sit down but makes no comment about how I’m now wearing more than a pair of faded taco boxers. We sit in silence for a few minutes just watching the fire. Robin Stark eventually falls asleep at Ryne’s feet. I kind of love how she took to him so quickly. Even if she’s a little bit of a traitor. After a few minutes of silence, a thought enters my mind.
“Wanna play a game, Ryne?”
“A game,” he deadpans.
“Well, not really. Sort of. Tell me three things about yourself. Three truths. And then I’ll do the same. I know you’re wicked good at soccer. More info would be nice.” His top lip twists up on one side and he stares at me like I’m batshit crazy. Maybe I am, asking him something like this when he so obviously doesn’t like to share much about himself. At least not with me. But three truths? It’s not too much to ask. Besideshecame overhere, not the other way around.
“What if I go first?” I offer. Still, all I get is a hard stare and stony silence, and I sigh heavily. “Why are you even here, Ryne? If you’re just gonna sit there stubbornly, I don’t—” I shake my head and sigh again, turning back to face the fire pit. A sharp, bleak wave of vulnerability washes over me, and I draw my legs up into my chair, wrap my arms around them, and rest my chin. After a moment I close my eyes and lay my cheek against my knees, away from Ryne.
I couldn’t tell you how much time passes, it might have been a few seconds or a few decades, but then I hear Ryne exhale softly and speak up in a low voice. “I work part-time for my uncle Nathan, working on houses and shit. I have one tattoo. And…” He pauses like he’s thinking. “And homemade chocolate chip cookies are my favorite dessert.” Not exactly state secret information but every single one of his words surge through me and careen straight into my heart. I flip my head around so my other cheek rests against my knees and watch Ryne.
“Your turn, Dacen.”
My heart flutters all the way up into my throat at those three words, particularly the last one. I’m an open book, so for the next half hour or so we sit here talking by the fire, it’s mostly me talking and Ryne listening, with him occasionally interjecting with information when prompted. A comfortable silence falls over us until finally, Ryne speaks again.
“So Christopher… he’s an ex-boyfriend?”
Hopefully, it’s too dark for him to notice the flush spreading over my cheeks. “Not exactly. He was—is—a friend, my closest one from back home I guess. We’re friends who occasionally, uh, messed around. Together.” Ryne makes some unintelligible mumbling sounds. “I don’t speak mumble, Ryne.”
He glares at me and takes a drink. “I asked if you’re a virgin.”
My face must be comically surprised because Ryne actually laughs. Like, legit laughs. Not in a dark, broody way, or in an ‘I wanna suck out your soul’ way. It does all sorts of things to my insides. I’m amazed, on top of my surprise at his question, and sit there in stunned silence. He turns sideways in his seat again so he’s facing me. The heat in my cheeks travels down my neck and over my chest but I turn in my seat and face him too. I lick my lips and finally speak. “In what sense?”
Ryne’s eyebrows fly up and his tone is full of wry amusement. “As in fucked someone or been fucked. What the hell other meaning is there?”
I sniff nervously and swallow hard to get rid of the frog in my throat. “There are other definitions, you know. I’ve done quite a bit of… stuff… before. Technically speaking I guess you’d say I’m a virgin, by your definition at least.” I cannot believe I’m sitting here by the fire with Ryne Sutton at midnight discussing my sex life. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight for an entirely different set of reasons.
Ryne sets his can in the cup holder of his chair and he leans in. “Good to know. Technically speaking, of course.”
“What about you?”
He ignores my question and leans in closer. Mischief dancing along his features as the light of the fire hits the side of his face. There’s a particularly wicked gleam in his eye. “What sorts of stuff have you done before? Just how bad are you, Dacen? Ever sent someone a dick pic?”
I blush hardcore at the last thing he asks. “No! I have not sent anyone a picture of my dick.”
“What a damn shame.”
The daring, extra confident side of me Ryne always seems to awaken perks up at his words. “Now answer me.”
He picks his can up and takes a drink, then tips it toward me. “That’s kind of a personal question, ain’t it?”
What.
“Kind of a personal… Excuse me?” I sputter.
“Kidding. I’ll answer the question. But I’m kinda curious what you think my answer is.”
I sit back and study Ryne. The heat from his gaze is nearly tangible as it travels up my torso, landing squarely on my eyes once more. I can’t look away. It’s like being sucked into a vortex of hotness.
“What do I think?” I bite my lip and consider. He’s easily the hottest guy I know and clearly would have no trouble finding people interested in spending some, ah, quality time together. I get the sense he doesn’t let anyone in close enough to do more than physical stuff though. But that wasn’t his question. “I think you’re fairly experienced with stuff but you’ve not had sex, by the standard definition.” Ryne breaks our stare-down by looking off to the side, toward the fire, and then down at Robin Stark. “Well?” I need to know.
He looks back at me and runs his tongue along the edge of his front teeth. “Your assessment is not inaccurate. Technically.” For some reason, a weight I hadn’t known was there in the first place lifts off my chest at this information. It doesn’t really matter what his answer is, but it lifts nonetheless.
We talk for a while longer and then eventually I feel someone shaking my shoulder. I blink my eyes and look up at Ryne.
“You fell asleep.” Ryne presses his lips together to hold back a smile.
“Oh, shit. Sorry. What time is it?”
