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Groaning, I push away from the counter and open the fridge. I need snacks to distract myself. Pulling out sliced turkey and cheese, I make a few rollups on a plate, and take them with me to the living room. I can’t believe it’s only noon, so I turn the TV on, and flip around until I find a mindless reality show to get lost in.
At some point I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up a few hours later, and the room has darkened. Yawning, I get up and unplug my phone in the kitchen. Holy shit, it’s already after four! I slept, for like, three hours!
Ryan is going to be home at six, so I search around his fridge and cabinets to find the ingredients I need for chicken and penne vodka, and get to work.
Cooking has always helped me to clear my head. At least for a short time.
When it’s all together in a casserole dish, I put a layer of cheese on top, and cover it with foil before putting it in the oven on low.
Looking at the clock, I see it’s five thirty, so I run upstairs to shower and change before Ryan gets back.
I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I am. I’m staying in his house, and I made him dinner. This feels like some weird first date.
Showering, I let the hot water beat down on my tense muscles. I haven’t heard from Ryan, and I hope he’s okay. I could have called him, sure, but I didn’t want to seem like some nagging girl checking in on him.
Sighing, I tilt my face up into the water and rinse off before stepping out and wrapping myself in a towel.
Opening the bathroom door, I run smack dab into a wall of man. “Oompf,” I grunt out as arms wrap around me–steadying me.
“Sorry,” Ryan’s deep voice utters quickly. “I was just coming up to look for you and didn’t realize you were showering.”
“It’s fine,” I say into his chest. “But I’m getting you all wet now.”
His low chuckle vibrates through me. “Funny, I thought that was my job.”
“Ryan!” I laugh, smacking his chest.
Holding my towel tight, I step back out of his arms, and look up into his stupidly handsome, smiling face. But as he rakes his eyes down my wet, towel clad body, his smile vanishes, and his heated eyes meet mine again.
My wet hair drips down my back and shoulders, and I watch as Ryan’s eyes follow a drop as it runs down my neck and chest, disappearing into the valley between my breasts.
“I’m going to go put some clothes on,” I whisper, my pulse racing. If my skin was any hotter, the water would be steaming off of me.
His eyes dart back up to mine, holding my gaze for a long moment. Stepping aside, I walk past him and down the hall to my room in a dazed state.
I wish he would have just ripped this towel from my body and pinned me against the wall. That would have been more than fine with me.
Ripping it from my body myself, I wrap my hair up in it, and apply a generous amount of lotion all over. This cold air is already drying my skin out.
I change into leggings and an oversized sweater that falls mid-thigh and slightly off my shoulder, showing off the black lace bralette I have on underneath.
Taking the towel off my head, I comb out my hair, and put in some leave-in conditioner so my curls won’t dry frizzy. Flipping it over a few times, I give it a little volume, and then move on to applying my face lotions. I don’t bother with any makeup, but I do apply a little mascara to make my green eyes more enticing.
Deciding I look good enough to where it doesn’t seem like I’m trying too hard, I make my way downstairs, and find Ryan in the kitchen taking the casserole dish out of the oven.
“It should be done. I was just letting the cheese melt.”
“You made dinner,” he says, sounding surprised.
“I did.” I smile. “I take eating seriously.”
He smiles back. “I do too. I’ll grab the plates if you grab the forks.”
“Sure.” Remembering where I found them earlier, I open the drawer near the sink and take out two forks and knives and bring them over to the table. “So, how was work?”
“Good. Quiet. Mostly sitting around eating donuts.” He smirks.
“I knew it.” I laugh lightly. “Waste of taxpayer money.”
