Get a grip, Tegan. It’s just dinner. It’s barely even a date.
I take a deep breath, and then another, trying to figure out why I’m on edge like this, just sitting across the gearshift from him. I grew up around guys, I’ve spent half my life surrounded by my brother’s friends: objectively hot guys who had Zoey swooning. I’m not some inexperienced virgin who’s never hooked up with a guy before.
Except…
Connor was Connor, and aside from him, there hasn’t really been anyone, not for real. Sure, after it all fell apart, I tried to block out the world with pills and booze and cheap kisses. There were guys then, but that was all a blur. I’ve only ever known one man by heart: one set of lips claiming my own, one body pressing me into the mattress, holding me in the dark of the night.
Until Ryland…
Kissing him in Vegas was a rush, a thrill. A way to wipe the slate clean somehow. Except it turned into so much more.
The no-strings make-out isn’t supposed to keep you up at night for weeks after, reliving every moment of his touch. The disposable bad boy isn’t supposed to kiss you on the side of the road, and make everything burn to ash with the intensity of his gaze.
I’ve been telling myself to stay away, but I’m right back where I started: racing down another road to nowhere, with someone else’s hands resting there on the wheel.
This time, I just pray he doesn’t send us crashing off the edge of the cliff.
“I’d give every penny I own to figure out what’s going on behind those eyes,” Ryland’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn. His lips curl in a devastating grin. “Of course, that’s about twenty-five bucks, and change,” he adds.
“Did you lose your shirt in Vegas then?” I ask, curious. “Is that why you’re back home again?”
He shakes his head. “I won, actually. Earned myself a fresh start.”
“But you’re back where you started,” I say, puzzled.
“Exactly. I’ve been running away from my problems long enough. No better place to put down some roots than where it all began.” He taps an easy rhythm on the steering wheel. “What about you, princess? Where’s home to you?”
I pause. “I don’t know. We moved to LA because Ash was in business school, and then I guess we just stayed. But LA isn’t the kind of place you call home,” I tell him, thinking of the strip malls and busy freeways, the lush private enclaves, and empty nighttime streets.
“What about your folks?” he asks.
I swallow. “They died when I was younger. It’s just my brothers and me.”
He glances over. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.I shrug. “It was a long time ago.”
There’s silence for a moment, then his voice comes again. Quiet, and heavy. “I grew up without much in the way of parents too. That was their choice, not mine, but still. I know it’s not easy.”
I look up in surprise. I want to ask what happened, but something stops me. I can tell from the shadow in his eyes that it’s not something he wants to share, not just yet.
I find myself hoping he will, one day.
Ryland keeps driving. The silence stretches between us, full of old memories, old scars. My parents, Connor, every bad choice I ever made to get me to this moment in time. They flutter around us like moths, a rising tide of guilt and loneliness, threatening to smother me in their dark wingbeats.
I feel a surge of sharp rebellion.
“Let’s make a deal,” I suddenly announce. “No more talking about the past, or what happened before we got here. For the rest of the evening, it’s like nothing existed before we crossed that county line.”
Ryland looks surprised, then he smiles. “I can get behind that,” he agrees. “Blank slate?”
“Blank slate,” I echo, determined, and just like that, the darkness lifts; drifting out the open windows as we drive further through the lush green fields and woodlands.
I take another breath, feeling the ocean breeze fill my lungs. Clean and crisp. Just for tonight, I’m going to let it go. See what it’s like to leave the past behind. I’ve been trying—and failing—for months now, and although I swore I wouldn’t use Ryland as a distraction from my pain, this feels different somehow. We both have a past to hide. We both want to be free from the person we used to be. So why not leave it all behind, just for a few hours? No judgment. No guilt.
No regrets.
Ryland drives us about forty miles out of town, heading south along the coastal highway. I relax, kicking my bare feet up on the dashboard, and letting my hair tangle, whipping loose in the breeze. The radio plays a mix of rock and country oldies, and I find myself singing along to some, watching the miles speed by.
I look over to find Ryland staring with an amused expression. I laugh. “I know, I’m a terrible singer. Dex got all the good musical genes.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Ryland protests, grinning.
“Yeah, but you thought it,” I reply. “It’s OK, I have plenty of other skills.”
“Oh really?” Ryland’s gaze turns flirty.
“Hey!” I reach over and playfully swat his arm. “I meant like driving. And making grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“That’s exactly what I thought you meant.” He keeps grinning, that slow-burn laughter in his eyes that makes my stomach turn a somersault.
“What about you?” I ask, before I can melt right here on the passenger seat. “Skills and talents, go on.”