Ryker orders at the bar, then turns around with a beer in his hand. He makes a move like he intends to pass it to me, before smirking and offering it to Nathaniel.
I glare at him.
“I think you’ve had enough for the night.”
Ryker couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve had one. One unsatisfying drink, which hasn’t taken the edge off anything and was interrupted by his arrival.
Nathaniel takes the beer like he’s handling something sacred, wide-eyed and smiling. His smile grows when he looks at me, absent an offering from the god in front of us.
Amy slides back onto her stool and twists to face us while sipping the mojito Ryker bought her.
I’d wager there’s more green foliage in the glass than rum.
“So . . .” Ryker says. He’s looking expectantly at Amy, and she gives him what he wants.
“Alice.”
And damn, I really thought she looked like an Amy. At least I heard the first letter right.
“Alice.” Ryker nods to himself. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
I inwardly cringe. Amy—no, Alice. Alice, Alice, Alice loves to talk, and Ryker, Ryker, Ryker loves to charm, and any chance of her quickly finishing her mojito vanishes. She’s not going to take a sip for at least twenty minutes, and she stirs her straw in the glass, spinning the ice. It’ll be gone by the time she drinks, and the flavour will no longer be balanced and refreshing.
Watered down and weak, and that’s exactly what Ryker is doing to Alice’s and my lust for each other.
He’s killing it.
I should leave, walk away, but my anger grows as I watch him. He laughs, he winks, he smiles, he smoulders, with an intensity Alice struggles to handle. It’s a good job she’s sitting down again or else she would’ve dropped to his feet. The bottoms of her top front teeth are red from where she’s bitten her lip every time Ryker looks away.
He only looks away to tap idly on his phone, and he keeps hold of it, clutching it when he isn’t tapping.
Her lust for me becomes lust for him, and it brings a burn of humiliation to my eyes. In some distant part of my lizard brain, Ryker being gay was a relief. He’s always made it clear to women it was the same sex that turned him on, and now I wonder whether he only did that so they’d notice me.
Has he always been helping me?
Have women only noticed me because he ruled himself out?
Did Keegan see him first?
The burn in my eyes turns into a sting. Needles push into the inner corners and I know it’s only a matter of time until there are tears on my lashes. I look away from him—look away from them. It’s the first time I realise Nathaniel is gone. I can’t see himanywhere. Ryker doesn’t care because he’s Ryker and he’ll pick someone else up with ease, right after he beats my self-esteem into the ground.
“Freddie?”
I ignore the softness in his voice and refuse to look his way.
“Talk to me.”
And then he’s no longer lounging against the bar up close and personal with Alice, he’s in front of me.
He’s standing directly in front of me, blocking the sight of her, and the bar, and everything. It’s me and him, and we’re close, so close. He touches my arm, my bare bicep, and he’s warm, and he squeezes. A lump forms in my throat, but I don’t try to swallow it.
I won’t be able to. It’s thick and dense and I know I’ll choke.
Ryker rubs my arm, and the hairs on my skin do a happy quiver. Keegan once told me she found it odd how touchy-feely Ryker was with me. Ryker is “touchy-feely” with everyone, though. I’ve seen him being “touchy-feely” multiple times with multiple different men. Keegan rolled her eyes at my brush off. But I think I get it now. Ryker touches me a lot, but it’s different.
It’s arm squeezes, and elbow knocks, and hugs where he smacks his palm to my back, and it’sconstant. If he’s near me, he touches. They don’t linger, they jab and poke and squeeze, but they’re always happening. I don’t notice because he’s always been like that for as long as I can remember, but I’ve spent two months without him.
Two months without his touch.
