15-05-2021-052358It-Ends-with-Us

It all hits me at once. The anger... the irritation... the half glass
of champagne I had in the kitchen. I’m so mad, I can’t even think
straight. If the guy wants to have sex with me so bad... he shouldn’t
have fallen asleep! If he doesn’t want me to swoon, he shouldn’t buy
me flowers! He shouldn’t hang cryptic pictures of me where he lives!
All I want is fresh air. I need fresh air. Luckily, I know just where to
find it.
Moments later, I burst through the door to the rooftop. There are
stragglers from the party up here. Three of them, seated on the patio
furniture. I ignore them and walk to the ledge with the good view and
lean over it. I suck in several deep breaths and try to calm myself
down. I want to go downstairs and tell him to make up his damn
mind, but I know I need to have a clear head before I do that.
The air is cold, and for some reason, I blame that on Ryle.
Everything is his fault tonight. All of it. Wars, famine, gun violence—it
all somehow links back to Ryle.
“Can we have a few minutes alone?”
I spin around, and Ryle is standing near the other guests.
Immediately, all three of them nod and begin to stand up to give us
privacy. I hold up my hands and say, “Wait,” but none of them look at
me. “It’s not necessary. Really, you don’t have to leave.”
Ryle stands stoically with his hands in his pockets while one of the
guests mutters, “It’s fine, we don’t mind.” They begin to file back
down the stairwell. I roll my eyes and spin back toward the ledge once
I’m alone with him.
“Does everyone always do what you say?” I ask, irritated.
He doesn’t respond. His footsteps are slow and deliberate as he
closes in on me. My heart begins to beat like it’s on a speed-date, and
I start scratching at my chest again.
“Lily,” he says from behind me.
I turn around and grip the ledge behind me with both hands. His
eyes journey down to my cleavage. As soon as they do, I yank at the
top of my dress so he can’t see it, and then I grip the ledge again. He
laughs and takes another step closer. We’re almost touching now, and
my brain is mush. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.
“I feel like you have a lot to say,” he says. “So I’d like to give you the
opportunity to speak your naked truth.”