“But you were supposed to have a happy ending. That’s my job, it’s what I do—write happily ever after’s. And instead, you’re... stuck. In limbo. With me.”
Ryder’s expression turns dead serious. “Who says I’m not going to have a happy ending?”
The question, loaded with meaning I’m not ready to unpack, hangs in the air.
My cheeks flush as I fiddle with my napkin.
“Besides,” he continues, a small smile playing at his lips. “I think we’ve established I’m not exactly ‘stuck’ anywhere.”
I swallow hard. “What if all of this stops? What if tomorrow I wake up and?—”
“And what? I’ve disappeared?” He shakes his head. “I honestly don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work. If anything, I’m becoming more anchored in this world, not less.”
“But how can you be so sure?”
Reaching across the table, he takes my hand, tracing circles on my palm with his thumb. “I can’t. But I’m not going to waste whatever time I have worrying about it. And neither should you.”
The intensity in his eyes makes my heart stutter. Before I can respond, the waitress appears with our check.
“You two make such a cute couple,” she says with a smile. “Been together long?”
Ryder’s eyes never leave mine. “Feels like I’ve known her my whole life.”
TWENTY-FIVE
noia
The ride home feels different.I press myself against Ryder’s back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, cheek resting between his shoulder blades. We take the coastal road home, the sound of the motorcycle a pleasant hum as the wind rushes past.
We pull into the driveway just as the sun is starting to set, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks.
My legs are wobbly again as I climb off the bike.
“Did you have fun today?”
Ryder is looking down at me with those smoky gray eyes and I swear I could melt just from the intensity of his gaze.
“I did. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
The words hit low in my belly as he growls the words.
Clearing my throat, I hand him back the helmet and head toward the door. “I’m gonna take a shower and do some writing.”
Hot water sluicesover my body as I wash away the lingering scent of ocean air from my skin. My mind keeps replaying the day on repeat—the exhilarating feeling of my first motorcycle ride, the way Ryder looked at me across the table at lunch, and the intensity in his eyes when he said he felt like he’d known me his whole life.
After toweling off, I slip into my comfiest pajama shorts and T-shirt before sitting down at my desk.
The words flow easily, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I describe the feeling of being pressed against Ryder’s back on the motorcycle, the way the wind whipped through my hair and how the sense of freedom I experienced made me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt in my life.
I’m deep into our steamy scene from the night before when my phone buzzes. My mom’s face lights up the screen, and I hesitate for a second before answering.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Noia, sweetheart!” Her voice is warm and slightly breathless. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days. How are you doing?”
I glance at my bedroom door. It’s open just a crack, and I can hear Ryder moving around downstairs. “Everything’s fine, Mom. I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls. I’ve been... writing.”
