I clean up and take a breath, pushing out into the room, but it’s empty, and I sigh before I see the balcony door open. I take a few steps towards it, and through the thin voile, I can see his hulking frame leaning on the balcony, looking out over it. He has his ankles crossed and his elbows resting on the rail. He’s still only in his boxer shorts, and I look over him wantonly, biting my lip as I appreciate the form before me; he really is a work of art. He’s a good four inches or more taller than me, with slightly tanned skin and all those tattoos. He’s… hot. He knows he is, too, and he’s definitely gay.
I’m not gay, though, but looking at him, I’m not totally sure that I’m straight, either. I wish I could be more like him. He knows who he is and what he wants, and me? I was only doing this to get Mother and Father to notice me, and when that didn’t work, I just kept at itas I’m good at it. I want to be a part of something for me. My parents have my whole life mapped out.
I studied business at university and went to Cambridge to get my master’s degree to take over my father’s business, but I don’t want that. I wanted to be an architect. I love drawing buildings. It’s my passion, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t on the cards for me, and although I’m allowed this ‘hobby’ as my parents see it, I know as soon as Father decides to retire, it’s all over. I will have to quit no matter how well I’m doing.
I close my eyes and clench my fist, seething at the idea that my life isn’t my own, that I’m only here on a temporary basis because it keeps me out of Father’s way unless he needs me to flaunt around at social events. And when I take over the business, I know I will have to answer to the board, so that won’t even be mine either. I won’t even get to choose who I marry. Just once, I’d like to make a decision for myself and not hold back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” his voice breaks me from my inner turmoil, and he’s standing so close I can almost feel his breath skating across my skin.
My eyes slowly rise to meet his gaze, but not before taking in every inch of exposed skin. I swallow hard when I meet his brutal stare, arms crossed tight across his taught, toned, tattooed chest, his stubbled chin and soft pink lips, those dark penetrating eyes that I can feel digging into my soul and then the smirk that makes me question… everything.
“Nothing,” I snap.
Pushing past him, grabbing my suitcase and tossing it on the bed, I busy myself emptying it as he shakes his head and walks away. He flops back onto the bed, snatches the TV remote, and puts on some crimedocumentary. He throws one arm behind his head and shoves the other into the waist of his boxer shorts.
I’m sure my gulp is audible as his eyes flick to mine before I drop my gaze. I don’t want him to think I’m checking him out, but I struggle to keep myself in check around him. At the minute, I’m all over the place, and when I look back up, he’s watching the TV and lazily stroking his hand backwards and forwards, and it's mesmerising. I lick my lips and sigh before realising that’s what I’ve just done and trying to cover it up with a yawn. I continue to empty my case, and when I’ve done, I’m at a loss for what to do. We have a weekend of meet and greets introducing us to the team members and getting to know the other guys, and I need to keep a wide berth from Ryder as much as I can.
We have a couple of hours till we’re expected to meet in the dining room, so I head into the shower. When I come out, the room is empty. He’s gone, but the room is surprisingly tidy. There’s a t-shirt laid over the chair, and it’s the one he was wearing when he got here. I don’t know why, but I walk over and pick it up, inhaling long and slow, and my eyes flutter closed.
The door opens, and I spin, only to be caught with his t-shirt in my hands.
“What are you doing?” he asks as he crosses his thick arms across his chest.
“Fucking tidying up,” I snap. “Clothes tossed everywhere. It’s like you were dragged up!” I bark at him, trying to hide my embarrassment at being caught.
He storms over, snatching the t-shirt out of my hands and pushing me back, sending me sprawling across his bed. “Don’t touch my fucking shit.”
He throws it back on the chair, snatches something off the desk and storms back out. I sigh at theinteraction. He makes me so confused. I want to talk to him but don’t know how. I want to be friends but also don’t know how. More and mostly, I want to be around him without being a dick, but when I’m near him again, my walls just go up, and I can’t bare it and don’t know how to stop it. I thought I was on the right track before, but now it seems to have all gone out of the window.
I get myself ready and head downstairs. I think I’m the first to arrive when I hear laughing coming from the bar. They’re all there, Ryder, the four other guys and John. I realise I’ve been so caught up in him and how he makes me feel that I’ve forgotten what I’m here for, so I stroll in, pulling out my credit card.
“Can I get you all a drink?” They all look at their full drinks and back at me before declining.
Ryder gives me a look that makes me think he thinks I’m being a twat. I sigh again and slide onto one of the stools. They all get up to head to the dining room. Ryder rolls his eyes at me and nods his head to follow them.
Snatching my drink, I slosh it over my beige chinos, and it makes me look like I’ve wet myself.
“Fucking great,” I mutter, and he turns and glares at me before shaking his head and walking off. Why am I such a sap around him? I try to shake myself out of it and follow them into the dining hall, dabbing a napkin on my lap.
We’re all seated together for dinner, and the others chat, laugh, and get to know each other, but I can’t seem to fit in. I don’t understand a lot of the jokes. I’m not sure what some of them are saying with their accents, but mainly, I can hear his voice over everyone’s, and I hang on to every word. What the fuck is wrong with me? I nod and agree with many things toshow willingness, but once we’ve eaten, I make my excuses and head back to the room.
Once I’m up there, I berate myself for not knowing how to even hold my own in a conversation. Before Ryder I’d never interacted with any other guys around the track besides the track bunnies. I had a few hang-arounds from school, but again, not friends, just people I barked orders at and threw money at to get them to do what I wanted. For example, the night we went to terrorise Ryder at the supermarket he works at, but I haven’t seen any of them since he put me in my place and made me look foolish.
I put my pyjamas on and slide into bed, and I’m pretty sure I cry myself to sleep again.
Ryder
Chapter 25
I don’t know what his fucking problem is, but he sits there through the whole of dinner with a face like a smacked arse. I mean, team-building, it’s in the fucking name. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, mingling with the team, but he dips out after eating to go to bed. I can’t fathom him, and I’m angry that he has a shot that could have been someone else’s, someone who actually seems to want it or deserve it. All the while, he’s sitting there chewing a fucking wasp. I knew the nice guy act wasn’t sustainable for him, but for fuck’s sake, if I’d have blinked, I think I would have missed it.
When I get back up to the room, it’s late, so I slip out of my clothes and slide into bed, setting my alarm so I can be down at breakfast early. That’s the best opportunity to network.
My alarm goes off, and I hear the groan before I turn it off. I grab my stuff, shower quickly and head out the door, leaving him still asleep. When I get downstairs, two of the other guys come out of the lift after me and come over to chat. One of them was a little more ‘friendly’ last night, and I wonder if he’s gay too? It’s nosecret that I am, even if it wasn’t before. It’s now well-known after Arch’s failed attempt at outing me. All it’s actually done is given me more opportunities to ‘meet’ people.
I don’t have the whole are they, aren’t they bullshit now. They let me know if they're interested, and this one is definitely giving off those vibes. I’m not mad about it; he’s a small guy, but then they all are compared to me. He has soft features, clean-shaven. He looks young, with dirty blonde hair and grey eyes, almost blue. I smile back at him. I don’t have a type… not true. Idohave a type, but that’s not an option, and because I’m not looking for anything serious, it doesn’t really matter what they look like.
He sits at my side, scooting in close so he can talk into my ear. “Are you, erm… seeing anyone?” he whispers, and the smirk that passes my lips makes him blush.
