Objects in the room come into focus as I open my eyes, but my dream lingers right on the edge of my consciousness. The image of Ryland's flexed muscles as he carried me up four flights of stairs last night fades as I wake up more.I'm groggy from the remnants of the pain pill, but I definitely remember Ryland didn't carry me up any stairs. There were no muscles involved. There's no reason for me to be dreaming about such ridiculous crap.Glass clatters around in my kitchen and I tense up on high alert. Who in the hell is in my place? I try to move my legs off the bed, but they're stiff and my crutches are nowhere to be seen. I'm a sitting duck for whoever's out there mauling through my things."Time to wake up, Marissa."Ryland? Why in the hell is he here?I stay silent and consider the option of pretending I'm asleep. Ryland's head peeks around the bedroom door before I have time to adjust myself back on the bed. His smile falters into a tight-lipped frown."You didn't cha
My mouth falls open at his playful and bossy tone, but it doesn't mess with his smile. The man is unperturbed, which frustrates me. Rather than remind him I'm maimed, I move on to the next pressing topic."What's that?" I point to the table in question.He cocks an eyebrow in my direction and raises a hand like he's about to check for a temperature, but I bat it away. "A coffee table.""I realize it's a coffee table, Ryland. Where did it come from?""First, call me Ry. My mother's the only person who calls me Ryland. Second, I bought the table this morning.""You bought a table this morning?" My wrapped foot rests on the floor, the throbbing pressure increasing by the minute. It must be the reason I'm hearing his answers wrong.He slides the table a few inches closer. "Yeah, I stopped by to wake you up this morning and noticed you didn't have one. I picked it up down the road and they delivered it an hour later."My eyes rise to the ceiling as I work through everything he
He laughs, but it's humorless. "My dad. He didn't want one of my places to sit empty. Kept making suggestions he and my mother could move out here. I needed a renter quickly, but I wanted a nice quiet tenant. The Commandments were my way of ensuring I wouldn't be annoyed in my own home."Now it's my turn to laugh. "A thousand bucks for this place in the heart of the city? There isn't a rule alive to keep someone away from a deal like this. People would sign over their first born to live here.""Yeah, I figured out my mistake when the real-estate company called with an agreement within an hour of its listing.""Did it work?""Finding a tenant that doesn't annoy me?" He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in complete dispassion. "No.""Trust me. You're a real peach to live with too." The insult slips out and I immediately feel bad. He brought me breakfast...... and a coffee table. I look up to offer an apology, but catch Ryland suppressing a tiny grin. He's not ups
I check my reflection in the elevator's mirrored surface and smooth down the few flyaway hairs on top of my head. Yesterday Ryland worked for over an hour with me on how to use crutches. It's difficult, but at least I'm not a total mess on them any longer. This morning as I prepped for my first day back to work, I dressed extra nice in my favorite black business suit with a slimming pink blouse. I didn't dress nicely so Ryland would visualize me in clothes other than pajama pants with ponies on them. I did it for work.It didn't matter. I fumbled out my door and was met by a Post-it note stuck to the front of Ryland's. The man loves his sticky notes. His chicken scratch scrawl on the bright yellow paper let me know he'd started a morning run but left the door unlocked. I wasn't let down or anything. It's better I wasn't forced to deal with his attitude so early in the day.Nine hours later and for unknown reasons, my nerves are ratcheted. I'm not sure what I'll find in Ryland's apa
Another day begins and ends with a ride in Ryland's elevator. Except today I'm curious. Can I expect the abs to be on display? More yoga with his butt high in the air? Or maybe I'll find him in lederhosen dancing a jig. The endless possibilities raise my lips into a smile as the elevator doors slide open to reveal his white walled hallway."You're back early." A female voice stops me in my tracks.I hesitate, but whoever the woman is doesn't seem to notice as she keeps talking to a person she can't see. "There are a few things left, but I'm almost finished."With a straight back and sure crutches, I walk down the hallway with deep breaths to prepare for whatever I'll find.The end of the hallway approaches and I stop at the edge. A tall woman in a light blue baby doll t-shirt leans over Ryland's kitchen island counter wiping the surface down with a dishtowel. Her long blonde hair falls in front of her, obscuring my view of her face, but I bet she's gorgeous.She looks up and
What sweet hell is this? Today, the first time this week I've felt comfortable walking into Ryland's condo and I'm greeted with this? I wasn't prepared for this."Hey." The man in question raises one hand to wave at me while I stand at the end of his hallway gaping. He's positioned between me and the door in a bright orange kayak wearing a life vest and using a matching orange oar to fake paddle on his hardwood floors.Ryland's gone insane. Do I laugh, cry, or call an institution for him?Back to his rowing, he leans forward in the seat and paddles with short quick strokes. Fake waves? Rapids?"What are you doing, Ryland?"My question interrupts his stroke and he straightens, slowing his paddle motion. "Practicing my rowing," he answers over a shrug like I'm weird for asking and this is a normal everyday occurrence around here. Hell, maybe it is."Where are you planning to kayak in San Francisco?"This time he puts the oar down on the side of his vessel. "The bay," he ans
"Marissa! You can't sneak up behind someone and kill them." Ryland yells at me from his position on the couch and his Dragons Reborn player runs in the opposite direction fleeing an attacking PC — a character created by the game and not controlled by a human."Why not? We're trying to win aren't we?" My sword slashes through another opponent sent by the game to help defend the treasure chest we're fighting for.His fingers stop pressing buttons on his controller as he turns to me. "It's not good game play.""I need to upgrade my sword. The one you gave me takes three strikes to kill a PC player." Clashes of iron against iron fill the room as I attack the last guard. Ryland holds his character back while mine jogs forward to inspect the contents of the chest we fought valiantly for."You're so violent for someone so small."I add a few pieces of iron from the chest to my inventory. They'll help with my upgraded sword. "I told you. I'm not small. I'm average. You're too tall. I
555-7845: What are you doing?The text, from a number not already in my phone and an area code I've never heard of, flashes on my phone screen until I'm curious enough to open it. 555 Where is that, Oz? I almost don't respond, but my Good Samaritan wins out in the end. It's a Saturday afternoon and I'm stuck in my teeny tiny apartment with nothing to do but watch television. Even worse, reality television.Anyway, in the end I text back because there's a chance it's a random cutie... I mean the Good Samaritan thing.Me: Who is this?555-7845: Your favorite sexy landlord.Ryland. No one at my last complex could be considered sexy. A few hundred questions come to mind. Where is he? Why is he texting me? How did he get my number? When did Mr. Runs Ten Miles Every Morning decide he's too lazy to walk across the hall? They're important questions, which I'll ask eventually, but I can't miss my chance to screw with him a smidge first. The man's a tad uptight at times. Humor will do