Chapter 2
My muscles are all tensed up as I open the door and peer inside. Alright, no room full of dudes ready to laugh at me. Just a very standard dorm setting - two beds, two desks, a shag green rug over the fake wood floor. And there he is, sitting at one of the desks, fiddling around with something on his laptop with his back facing me.
“Perfectly on time,” says Ryder without turning around, “At least one of us is capable of being punctual.”
I stare at the back of his head while standing in his doorway. Even his haircut is perfectly trimmed, the back of his neck smoothly shaved of any stray hairs. I’ve noticed this in the past, actually, that he doesn’t seem to have much hair on his body at all. I’ve since learned that apparently it’s quite common for even men to shave their limbs and chest if they’re swimmers - I guess to eliminate any extra drag in the water. As soon as I have that thought, my eyes linger on the back of his toned calves, one of which is splayed off to the side of the chair.
“Come sit.” My host turns his head halfway to me and motions his hand towards his nearby bed in invitation. Right. His bed. Not at all awkward.
It’s still not impossible that there are cameras around if this really is a prank, so I try to appear as aloof as possible as I step inside and let the door close behind me. I notice Ryder’s shoes are lined up right next to the door, so I follow his lead and step out of my sandals, and soon I feel the thick shag carpet under my feet as I step closer.
“So how come you were so late to class?” I ask casually as I take a seat and let my backpack slide off my shoulders.
He had gone back to briefly looking at his computer before he appears to finish up, and he shuts the laptop completely. He pivots in his chair to face me head on and gives me a wide, toothy smile.
“To give me an excuse to hang out with you?” he responds, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.
Fuuuck. There’s no way he’s not messing with me. But I stay as calm and collected as possible, and I roll my eyes as if we were already on friendly terms. “Joke’s on you,” I say, “You’re going to get way less out of this lesson secondhand.”
“I look forward to it.”
I just can’t get a good read on this guy. I zip my backpack open to pull out my notebook and the textbook for the class, setting them beside me onto the bed. With one hand I open up my notes. With the other I nervously run a fingertip in a circle on the bed sheet, falling back on my habit of inspecting whatever’s near me.
I glance up at him and say, “You were there for the last class, right? When we first started discussing GDP?”
He watches me with that goddamn smile, and eventually instead of answering he lifts a hand and waggles it back and forth, as if to say “ehhh.”
“Do you even remember what GDP is?” I ask with barely masked exasperation.
“Hmm… Glorious Dollar Points?”
For a moment we’re just staring at each other. I search his expression, the veritable fortress of his gaze that conveys nothing except a mild amusement. Alright. He’s no longer playing along with whatever façade we started with. I’m not going to act like an idiot.
I snap my notebook shut and narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t actually want to study, do you?”
His eyes narrow too but in a more natural way as his smile widens and becomes a little more genuine. He leans forward in his chair, staring at me with such intensity that I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.
“No. I don’t,” he says.
I do my best not to squirm and blush. I’m suddenly finding myself having a hard time looking at him. “Why did you invite me over then?” I ask sheepishly.
“I want…” Ryder straightens up again so that he can sit back in his chair pensively instead. “…to get to know you a little better.”
I can’t help but laugh wryly and give him a look. “Seriously? Me?”
“Yes. You.” He crosses his arms, appearing to very much be enjoying this. “I’m curious about you.”
An odd thing to say about a girl whose name he had trouble remembering an hour ago. I sigh, convinced that he must still be messing with me for some reason, but I’m unable to resist continuing this conversation. “What do you want to know? I’m not that exciting.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I dunno… Accounting major. No real hobbies. I watch a lot of trash TV and don’t really get out all that much.”
He stares at me pointedly, and for the first time I’m seeing a shadow of a frown cross over his face. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Hide behind shit like that. You and I both know that’s not really who you are.”
I frown back. “Do we know that? What are you talking about?”
I’m starting to really think I shouldn’t be engaging with this, but then Ryder takes me by surprise as he leans forward again in his chair. “How tall are you, Isabelle?”
The question is abrupt. Weirdly casual. And yet incredibly oppressing. At least… it is to me. I balk and hesitate, a couple of quiet and confused sounds escaping the back of my throat.
“Wha… What does that have to do with anything?” I stutter.
His smile turns cocky. “You don’t want to answer me?”
My gaze crumbles to the ground like a house of cards in an earthquake. “I… I’m 5’10”…"
“That’s rather tall, isn’t it?”
I stare at my feet and mumble, “It’s… not compared to you…”
Every article I’ve seen that features him always mentions his 6’4" stature. It’s one of the reasons he’s a particularly good swimmer. Ugh, I hate that I know these odd bits of trivia about him and yet he couldn’t remember my name.
“That’s true.” To my shock, Ryder reaches his hand out, and I hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten. He’s able to reach me and touches the side of one finger just under my chin to forcefully lift my head up. He looks deep into my eyes as he asks with overflowing confidence, “Is that why you’re so taken with me?”
I jerk my face back, pulling away from him. “Excuse me?” I say with a nervous laugh, “Who said I was… Listen, just because you’re the big man on campus doesn’t mean I…”
I trail off. I feel not just confused at this point but embarrassed, and I’m getting agitated to the point of defensiveness. Meanwhile, the man sitting across from me looks completely unperturbed. He chuckles and grins as he puts his open hands up in surrender.
“Alright. Don’t worry… I like games.”
I exhale heavily and start quickly packing up my school supplies into my backpack as I grumble, “Listen, if you had me come over just so you can psychoanalyze me, I think I’ll just–”
Ryder stands up. From my position seated on the bed he looms over me easily, and I fall into silence as I blink up at him. There’s something particularly odd in the air now. I’m overcome with a weird calm. For some strange reason, I feel no inclination to move from this spot anymore.
I look up at him from around his stomach level and he smiles down at me in turn. He brings a hand to cup the side of my face. It feels intimately warm.
“Psychoanalyze you, huh? That’s not a bad idea. Let’s see…” He runs a thumb back and forth along my cheekbone with a slow, methodical rhythm. “You want to be an accountant. Maybe because you think that’s a well-paying but low-key, stable job, right? Every accounting major I’ve met wants that. Or they’re being forced into it by their parents.”
Ryder’s hand drifts down now, fingertips caressing the side of my neck. I shudder helplessly.
“You don’t share your true interests with anyone because you don’t want to stand out.”
He reaches the collar of my hoodie and gently tugs at it. He brings his other hand up too, to fiddle with my sleeve on the other side.
“You wear oversized clothing to make yourself look smaller, because you hate being taller than the average woman.”
Casually he takes the little elastic bands off the ends of my hair and starts running his fingers through the braids, softly teasing out the copper strands.
“You wear your hair in pigtails because you want to look younger and more innocent.”
Now that my hair sits unburdened just past my shoulders, Ryder seems satisfied, and a hand returns to my chin. He takes it softly, but there’s a firm dominance there as he makes me look at him.
“You want to be underestimated. To pass right under the radar. To not be seen.”
He’s starting to put a subtle pressure on my jaw, forcing me to sit up straighter.
“Only thing I’m left wondering is why that is.”
The upward force he’s putting on my chin gets to the point that I feel compelled to my feet. I don’t actually want to stand up, not now, I don’t want to be any higher. But I find some satisfaction in the fact that I still have to look up at him, and so I follow his lead and slowly rise. He’s so close. Our faces are only inches apart.
“Why do you care so much?” I whisper, my voice tight with deferential anxiety.
Ryder smiles at my demeanor. “Because you intrigue me, Isabelle. You have ever since I first saw you in that Marketing class.”
I actually gasp at this. His hand is still holding my face and I reach up to weakly grab at his wrist. “Wait… you do remember me then?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you act like you didn’t?”
He finally lets go of my jaw so that he can take my hand instead, fingers interlocking. He shrugs in response.
“Because we were in public. And if there’s one thing I’ve figured out about you it’s that you hate public attention. Remember that first time I sat next to you? I kept whispering stupid jokes for the whole hour and made you giggle every time. But then as soon as class was over and I talked just a bit too loud to invite you to lunch, you declined without hesitation and practically sprinted out of the room. Away from all the prying eyes of those who were wondering who I was talking to.”
Of course I remember this. That day was the inception of this stupid crush, and I’ve been carrying my burdensome feelings around for the past year and a half. I struggle to take in a breath and then Ryder brings me back to earth as his thumb makes soft circles against the back of my hand.
“That’s why I’m so intrigued by you,” he says with a soothing tone. “Everyone around me is constantly vying for my attention. Doing everything they can to connect with me or curry favor, or at the very least lust from a middle distance. And then, there you were. Clearly interested in me. And yet doing everything to erase herself. Trying her utmost to just… disappear.”
I feel an unexpected need to fight back tears. He’s so on point with his observations that it’s scary. And yet there’s also something bizarrely validating about it. Despite all my efforts to remove myself from his view… he still saw me. He noticed. A myriad of feelings are battling inside of me like a cyclone.
“I don’t know how to feel about all this,” I finally say quietly.
Ryder squeezes my hand, the sky blue of his eyes drawing me in. “I can help with that.”
“What do you mean–”
And we’re kissing.