I pick up the pillow next to me, not sure if I want to punch it or squeeze it or hurl it across the room at Ryan’s head. I end up pushing it into my lap and moving my hands across the surface until I reach the corners.
I look up and Ryan is watching me like I’m an exotic creature he’s found in the wild, untethered and mesmerizing and capable of mauling him at any second. He says nothing.
“You have what I’d kill for. I’m not saying you have to forgive him. Just promise me you’ll talk to him. Promise me you’ll try.”
It takes a few seconds and the air turns thick between us, but Ryan slowly nods. “I will. I’ll try to try, if that makes sense.”
I nod as well as I lean back a little, lifting the pillow from my lap and hugging it to my chest. My heart rate returns to normal as the thermostat kicks the air to an even stronger level. The steady, cold breeze cools my flushed skin.
“I’m sorry I screamed at you,” I say after a while. “Why do all our conversations turn dark and emotional whenever we drink together?”
“It’s all the history, I guess. I kind of like it, though. Oddly enough.”
I let out a grim chuckle as Ryan studies me from across the room.
“Were you mad that I ruined your date tonight?” he asks.
“Not really.” I push my pillow back onto the cushions beside me, tucking it underneath my arm.
“Adam seemed like an okay guy.”
“He was, but he’s not what I’m looking for.”
“What are you looking for?”
It takes me a few seconds to come up with a response. “I wish I had the answer for that.”
“Someone like the guys in your novels?”
“Yeah, someone like that,” I say with a wistful smile. “A dramatic whirlwind romance that takes the world and turns it upside down.”
Ryan isn’t smiling. He watches me for a good long while, silent and still. “I don’t think I believe that. Even if you could experience what you write about, you would be way too uptight to do that kind of stuff, let alone enjoy it.”
I take in his accusation and once again sit up straight. “That’s not true. What happens in my books just doesn’t happen in real life. If I could experience something like that, I wouldn’t be too uptight to enjoy it.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay. Prove it.”
I think back on Ryan’s words. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean let’s choose a book and we’ll see if you can read it and act out what the characters are doing without you being too afraid to stop.”
“You want me to read what’s in a romance novel and then act it out?”
“Yes.”
“And who am I supposed to act it out with?”
“Me, of course.”
Ryan’s proposition crashes over me like a cold, unexpected wave. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m entirely serious. This way, we can see who’s right about your novels once and for all, or you can just admit that you would never really do any of the things you write about.”
I continue to stare at him in total silence.
“I knew it,” he says a few moments later.
And then my stubborn nature, strengthened by the alcohol, takes the wheel. “Fine,” I say defiantly.
“Fine?” he asks. “Are you sure?”
I get up from the couch without hesitating. “Pick a book.”
Ryan smiles. “How about the one you’re writing now?” He strolls over to my desk and picks up the new steamy chapter I printed out only this morning. He flips through the pages with his thumb until he slows down to skim a particular section. “Last chance to admit I’m right, Sullivan.”
I shake my head, feeling more determined than ever to test the boundaries.
“Here we go, then.” He walks into my bedroom, still holding the pages. I slowly follow and find him standing beside the bed. I close the gap between us until I’m two feet away. He hands me the manuscript, pointing to the top of the page. “Start reading.”
I look at him for several moments before my gaze falls to the paper. The words seem jumbled until they gradually begin to take form.
“‘Robert turned the key and locked the door...’” My words trail off as I peek up to see Ryan watching me through hazy eyes. He steps forward and around me, walking over to the door, pushing it closed. The space around us seems significantly smaller as he returns to his spot across from me. Less air. More heat. I feel trapped but in such a good way. I look back down at the page and continue.
“‘Charlotte stretched and arched her supple body across his bed, gripping the satin sheets in unbridled anticipation.’”
Ryan steps closer, slicing the distance between us in half. “It sounds like only one of us should be standing.” His eyes go from the papers in my hand to the bed.
Having no idea what I just said, I look down and reread the last line. Charlotte stretched and arched her supple body across his bed, gripping the satin sheets in unbridled anticipation.
I had to write unbridled anticipation, right?
Okay. It is officially game on.
I take the couple of steps needed to reach my bed and sit down on the mattress. I can’t let him win. I won’t. I slide back and lie back, holding the pages above me as I pick up where I left off.
“‘Robert moved towards her...’”
Ryan clears his throat.
“What?” I ask, lowering the pages.
“Aren’t you supposed to be arching and gripping sheets?”
“How can I do that when I’m holding a stack of papers in my hand?”
Ryan actually thinks about it. “You can arch a little bit and still hold the pages. Or you could at least grab the
