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“I’m sorry,” he said in a defeated voice. “I shouldn’t be nasty to you just because I’m in a nasty mood. There’s a bathroom right there if you need it.” He pointed to an open doorway. “There’s a cup on the counter I use when I brush my teeth if you need a drink. And here’s my phone if you want to call anyone.” He set it carefully on the table by his couch, letting me take note where he set it.
After that, he slumped lengthways across on the couch and crossed one foot over the other ankle as he stared up at the ceiling. I sat perfectly still for about ten seconds, not quite sure what to do. But Ryder’s anger seemed to be spent.
He confused me. Why did he want to help me so much? Why had he been paying so much attention to me to notice a missing necklace?
I peeked his way, but he remained motionless, lying stone still and staring up at the ceiling with his forearm thrown over his face.
I wondered if he was thinking about Todd and Kiera, about what he’d seen. I knew he probably wanted to be alone. I had to be the last person on earth he wanted to witness his agony. But returning to Barry’s house put a fear in my chest that kept me sitting exactly where I’d planted myself.
Slowly, I reached over and wrapped my fingers around the shirt he’d not so graciously given to me. I inched to my feet and crept to the bathroom. Inside, I hugged myself and cried a little more. It felt better to think about teenage problems, so I thought about Todd and Kiera. And Ryder.
Poor Ryder.
I wasn’t that upset about Todd. On the plus side, I no longer felt guilty about using him to get out of my house. Kind of wished he’d never kissed me though.
He didn’t own the only pair of lips I hadn’t wanted near me.
Remembering the other set, I scrubbed at my mouth and hurried to Ryder’s sink. As soon as I fired up the faucet, I washed my entire face, took Ryder’s toothpaste and rapidly brushed my teeth with my finger, hoping to wash away the impression Barry had left. I almost gagged as I thought about it.
The words he’d confessed to me through the doorway of my room kept stealing back into my head and haunting me. He’d wanted me since we’d first met. Dear Lord, he hadn’t even been married to my mother then. Had he only married her to get to me?
And all this time, she’d been so happy with him. How could anyone betray my mother like that?
More tears fell. I spent about fifteen minutes in the bathroom, trying to get myself put back together. When I exited, only one light remained on, a night light by Ryder’s bed. He’d thrown the covers back over his mattress in a sloppy attempt to re-make his bed and then taken one of his pillows; it currently rested under his head on his couch. An extra blanket lay draped over his waist.
The bed was empty for me to use if I wanted it. Other than that, it appeared Ryder hadn’t moved at all. He was still sprawled exactly where he’d been before, staring blankly up at the ceiling with his arm splashed over his forehead. He didn’t glance my way or even acknowledge my entrance as I opened the bathroom door.
I didn’t want to sleep in his bed. I would’ve rather taken his couch. But I wasn’t going to complain, in fear he’d throw me out altogether. After turning off the bathroom light, I tiptoed to the bed, set my clothes and shoes on the floor next to it, and crawled under his sheets.
It felt strange invading someone else’s sleep space. But it was oddly comforting. I pulled the blankets up to my neck and reached out an arm to click off the night light. There I lay, afraid to move.
Ryder rustled around on the couch. Everything remained so unreal. I was in the bed of some boy who only a few weeks ago had been like an untouchable Hollywood actor to me, my “wonderful” stepfather had put the moves on me, my mother and I weren’t talking, my best friends had forgotten about me, and my non-boyfriend was cheating on me.
For some reason, I wanted to laugh. This had to be the worst day of my life, or better yet, the worst few hours of my life. I lay there, actually getting warm and cozy in Ryder’s bed, and realized there was no way I was going to get any kind of s
leep. I was completely exhausted, my body was pooped, but my mind raced a million miles per minute.
From across the room, I heard a sniff. Two sniffs later, I deduced Ryder was probably crying.
And why shouldn’t he? His best friend and his girlfriend had just stabbed him in the back.
I would’ve thought that with my own problems, I wouldn’t care about anyone else, but I felt bad for Ryder. So very bad. He’d been nice to me tonight…in a rude sort of way. He’d been willing to take me somewhere and get me help, he’d let me stay here and he’d tried, desperately, to find out what was wrong. He wasn’t a bad person; he certainly didn’t deserve such treachery from two of the closest people in his life.
I wished I could do something to make him feel better. I’d never liked Kiera and honestly thought Ryder would be better off without her, and without Todd too. Todd seemed about as superficial as Kiera did. But I figured Ryder wouldn’t appreciate a good-riddance-to them kind of comment.
When I heard him move—a sound like he was sitting up—I froze. The shuffle of feet on the carpet caused me to go stiff. Oh Lord, what if he was coming toward the bed? What if he was no better than Barry?
Light footsteps moved across the room, but they moved away not toward me before the bathroom door clicked shut. The light came on inside; a line of brightness silhouetted the door through the crack around the edges. Water, probably in the sink, began to run.
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the flowing water and feeling like a heel. Had I really just feared Ryder would try something wicked? Barry had not only taken gross advantage of me, but he’d ruined my perception of everyone else.
It made me mad. I told myself right then, he would have no more of that kind of control over me. I would listen to my own instincts—not my paranoia—when it came to trusting others.
Half an hour later, I realized water still ran in the bathroom. My anger morphed into fear. What was Ryder doing in there? It wasn’t the shower water, but sounded like a sink faucet, so he wasn’t bathing. It was more like he was trying to muffle the sound of what he was really doing.
I didn’t pause to wonder whether he might be undressed or exposed in anyway, which is what I should’ve thought since he was in a bathroom. I was too worried, imagining all sorts of horrors. What if he was overdosing or cutting his wrists? He’d just witnessed the ultimate betrayal from his best friend and girlfriend. He could be doing anything.
Really working myself into a tizzy, I flew out of bed and rushed barefoot to the bathroom door. I pressed my ear to the wood. For a moment, I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the water, and then a muted noise hit my ears. It sounded faintly like the moan of a wounded animal.
