“What? But I…”
“Please…” his gaze softens. “Do something, Chris. Because if you don’t do it, neither will he. Do something – anything – but bring him back to us.”
* * *
I’ve beenat his front door for ten minutes now. Just standing there, frozen. It won’t take much, I know, to just knock on the door, find some ridiculous reason for being here, and explain how I know his address and the code to open the door downstairs.
It’d be nothing: for a good liar.
I tug at my shirt and brush through my hair with my fingers. Well, brushing is an exaggeration. It’s more an attempt at untangling it.
I take a deep breath, knock, and wait, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The minutes pass quickly, the silence of the corridor suffocating me. I realise that I’m making a huge mistake, and I should get out right now.
I turn on my heels and march quickly towards the lift, when his voice stops me in my tracks.
“Christine?”
Shit.
I turn around slowly and my jaw drops to the floor.
Ryan is standing in the doorway to his apartment, barefoot, with a towel wrapped around his waist. A few drops of water are slipping slowly down his abs, and his wet hair is plastered to his forehead.
“Hi,” I wave, like a little girl.
“What…?”
“I…er…sorry, I’d better go.”
I start to walk away again, but he runs after me, grabbing my arm.
“Where are you going?”
I turn towards him, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his face – but I can feel them dropping a little further down. His warm hand is still wrapped around my arm. I look down at it, and he lets go, pushing his hair back from his face.
I swallow down a sigh and compose myself.
“I was just in the neighbourhood and I thought I’d come and say hi…”
He crosses his arms. “How did you know where I live?”
Shit, he’s clever, too.
“I can’t remember, maybe you told me? Maybe someone else told me…” I try, but when he opens his mouth to respond, the front door opposite us swings open.
“Ryan!” A shrill, grating voice interrupts us.
“Mel,” he says, coldly.
The woman closes the door and approaches us. Well, ‘woman’ doesn’t quite do her justice. She’s more a goddess, or a Barbie – a Barbie goddess, maybe. I’m sure that exists.
Her gaze falls onto him shamelessly, and I’m suddenly overcome by a strange longing to grab her by her platinum blonde hair and slam her head against a wall.
“Have we just had a shower?” she comments, stupidly.
Seriously?Can she not see that he’s half naked with a towel around his waist?
“Yeah,” he says tightly.
