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Chapter Three
Savannah
Good God, did I really just say that?
That I didn’t mind being in a bed with him, but, oh, heaven forbid, there were three of us in it? And what the hell was up with me and thinking—talking—about him and sex?
Because, like Pavlov’s dog, every time I put sex and Ryan in the same thought, my heart squeezed, my lungs couldn’t appropriately fill with air, and a feeling of dread washed over me.
Which was a funny feeling, when paired next to the one of excitement at seeing him for the first time in nearly five months.
Since the going away party at the apartment he shared with Mitch Tennyson.
The night before I was supposed to drive him the airport.
The night I told Mitch that I had an unexpected obligation come up, and couldn’t do it anymore. Could he drive Ryan instead?
I effectively avoided Ryan the rest of that night, outside of a hug goodbye with words of good luck.
God, I couldn’t believe he was here.
Why didn’t my dad tell me!
Because, surely, my dad was the one who offered the cabin to Ryan.
You didn’t tell Dad you were coming, my subconscious was quick to remind, and I scolded that devil on my shoulder.
I pulled out a bunch of bananas that were more on the side of green, and the bag of Halo oranges, and put both on the counter next to the yellow bananas and apples that Ryan must have bought earlier.
We had to have just missed each other this morning.
I couldn’t believe my timing...
Here I was, running away from home and the memories of him on television, making out with Bella and giving her words that he always told me, and low and behold, here he was.
Right here.
Where I was trying to hide.
Guess there was no hiding from Ryan.
Never really had been.
He’d always known when I needed him.
Knew when I needed a friend.
Knew when I needed a distraction.
And knew when I needed space.
But one thing he didn’t seem to know, was that I needed him.
Just...
Needed him.
I’d needed him three and a half years ago to tell me that I was being stupid. To pull me back into his arms and talk sense into me.
