you guys thought long chapters are pretty fine so here you go :)

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It was a pretty sad and unfortunate sight to watch hundreds of Christmas lights and decorations all scattered around the streets and houses we drove past.

It didn't seem like this one would be a white Christmas, I thought a little mournfully. I didn't think it would. And I didn't think it should've mattered when I wouldn't even be able to enjoy much of it anyway. I didn't think I had it in me to head back home today, or tomorrow, or even the day after tomorrow. I didn't even think I could so much as attend the orchestra our university was putting up tomorrow--or today if the hours counted. Nico had told me back at the hospital that he'd received his entry passes and even went as far as asking me if I wanted him to collect mine from the reception desk. I'd only just looked at him and shook my head.

How was I supposed to just go with it? Go out and see an orchestra playing? Just the thought alone now was like warning bells ringing so blatantly and painfully in my ears. It was a warning. A plain, simple warning.

If my mom found out--wasn't I already at the edge of ruining enough?

I was well and truly fucked after that encounter at the bridge, and I knew the orchestra should be the last thing on my battered mind right now. I couldn't. I wanted to and a part of me wished to but I didn't think I deserved it. Not right now. Never, a nasty voice in my head offered. You were deciding to go there and listen to all those delicate violins being played and Mom warned you but you didn't listen.

My mom used to tell me when I was young that if I always thought of doing things for myself, indulging myself with things that I liked, it would always backfire. It would always end up hurting the people around me. Just like my dad--he fell in love with another woman, my mom used to tell me, and he ended up hurting us and destroying our family. Just like when I tried to play the violin my dad had gifted me when I was little--it ended up hurting Mom. She'd be sad, so utterly sad, and she'd cry and tell me to stop playing it. And then I'd hurt my fingers.

Just like I'd ended up liking Michael, liked the way he made me feel, liked the way he touched me--and then he had torn me apart.

My mom had been right. That's why I was here now, with an injury and a concussion, and a best friend who I'd watched as she was shoved off a bridge too high.

I wasn't in a very nice mindset throughout the car ride or by the time we reached Ryder's penthouse that seemed to scream all kinds of riches. I hated it and I also kind of hated myself in that moment. I didn't know how much more hurt there was left ahead of me and how much I was supposed to take from it.

The whole car ride was a rollercoaster of pent-up emotions. There was just silence between Ryder and me as he drove past the early morning streets. I watched the people who seemed to just be waking up for early Christmas cheer. I tried not to stare but I could only control myself so much within this stifling silence between us before giving in.

I hated that I'd ended up with a concussion during Christmas break. I hated that I wouldn't be able to see the orchestra tonight. I hated that I was still thinking of it. I hated that I didn't even wish to see my family right now, not when I felt like such a big mess. And I hated, hated that this silence wasn't having any effect on Ryder like it was having on me.

I gripped my phone in one hand--my phone that Ryder had handed me before we'd left the hospital--and the lone sunflower Nico had brought me in my other hand. It looked like it was going to wither away and die any second now and the corner of my eyes stung with tears.

Instead of letting myself feel them (I was already feeling too much), I gingerly tipped my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, trying to pretend that I didn't feel how carefully Ryder seemed to be driving especially past the bumps on the road, and telling myself that I was imagining when I felt his gaze on me but just for a moment.

•••

Ryder's penthouse was dark. All the lights were off and I had this horrifying thought for a lone moment that someone had broken in and something dark and dangerous waited for us, for me in the darkness ahead.

My steps faltered a little behind Ryder and I waited, heart racing with anticipation. It was almost as if he heard my racing heartbeat because he stopped for a second, glanced at me, though I couldn't really make out his expression in the dark, and flipped on the lights. A soft glow spread all around us. The first thing I noticed was Gem curled up on one of the incredibly soft-looking couches. I didn't think once before walking to her.

"Are you hungry?" Ryder asked me from behind, his tone flat but a little perceptive. "Or would you prefer to sleep first?"

I sat down beside Gem and toed my shoes off--just then realizing that I probably should've taken them off by the door. I looked down at my worn Converse and it struck me with a force when I noticed how they seemed so out of place here, in this big, polished and pretty house. I looked so out of place here.

"I'm..." I trailed off, staring over at the plain walls and the windows that reached up to the ceiling, and felt a lump in my throat. "I think I'll just take a nap."

I was tired. So, so tired. If I didn't fall asleep now, I think I might throw up with all the things I had yet to think about.

Ryder walked over with a full glass of water, having gotten it without me noticing, and handed it to me. "The guestrooms are upstairs." He said, nudging his head towards the large staircase past the grand kitchens, which I found myself thinking just seemed like too much space for one person. Unless...unless he wasn't usually alone here.

I took a small sip of the water and it felt like acid in my mouth. Gem still didn't move beside me, curled over her tiny paws and fast asleep.

I wanted to ask Ryder who else he brought to his home, to this large, empty penthouse, but I thought better of it because I didn't really want to know. I didn't want to know how many Brendas he'd brought here with him and how many acquaintances he'd had staying here for the night.

"I'll show you where it is." He seemed almost reluctant to say it, still standing by the coffee table with a remarkable amount of distance between us that almost made me want to laugh. I didn't think he wanted me to roam around and explore the entirety of his house by myself. God forbid I touched something of his.

I don't want to be here, I almost told him, a voice so acidic and ungrateful threatening to fall from my lips, and I had to clamp my mouth shut. "I...I need a few minutes." Was what I said instead. Because I knew how awfully ungrateful I was being right now when he'd helped me, saved my life and Brooke's life when he didn't even have to. I didn't even know why he'd saved my life again and I didn't want to make up stupid reasons in my head.

The silence seemed to stretch until I almost winced at the mind-numbing impact of it.

"Fine." He said finally, looking away and then back at me. "You can rest in any of the guestrooms down the hall," he told me, almost as if he knew I didn't want him here anymore. It made me feel like an awful person and I closed my eyes shut, rubbing my fingers over my right temple as I hung my head.

I could've felt him hesitating again, which was weird because I wasn't even looking at him anymore, and I didn't want him to be doing that here when he couldn't even stand being near me without all that distance. I heard him softly clearing his throat and then walking away.

I opened my eyes finally to find myself all alone and placed the glass of water on the table in front of me. I'd already drunk enough back at the hospital and the pills I'd taken earlier had my stomach in knots.

I shifted a little on the couch and only then noticed Gem who was awake now, eyeing me with her big brown eyes. But, and I realized with an aching heart, she seemed distant as well. Hesitant, as if she wasn't sure if she should come near me or run away.

I was making everyone feel so uncomfortable around me.

"Hey," I whispered softly, reaching out with my hand--slowly so she wouldn't scare away. Gem stared at me for a long time before nudging her nose against the back of my hand. "Come here, Gem."

I shifted a little on the huge couch until I was laying down on it with my head softly pressing against the back. Gem circled in front of me, nudging at my hands until she settled against my chest.

I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing for a moment that everything was easy, but things hadn't really been easy for me as long as I could remember. And if I were to be a kid again--when things had been easy--I'd have to go through all that came with my mom and my dad separating once again, which was something I'd never want again.

Gem pawed at my shirt and let out a small meow. I guess I needed a shower, but not right this instant, I decided. My limbs were heavy and sleep was weighing down my eyelids.

The last thing I remember was Gem tucking her small head beneath my chin before sleep pulled me under.

•••

Heavy footsteps, loud thuds, whispers whispers whispers, hands grabbing me in a grip so harsh, blood dripping down the walls, the chains, my hands my hands my hands--they were tied.

The sound of a glass shattering--a sharp piercing noise--was what woke me up with a terrified gasp. I sat upright in an instant and breathed heavily, looking around frantically and still feeling the phantom crawl of hands on my skin--my hands that were tied and I couldn't move them.

Except that I could of course move them. They weren't really tied and I could move them without any restricting bonds. But the loud noise of glass shattering, one that I could swear had been real, was indeed partially real because I could see it on the floor. The glass of water Ryder had brought me earlier, I must've thrown it off the coffee table when I'd been asleep, dreaming about all those nightmarish things.

"Shit." I hissed at the broken glass on the floor and the dull throbbing in my temples.

There was a loud meow beside me, one that startled me until I noticed Gem, and then a swipe of her tiny paw at my arm before she jumped off the couch and ran away. Poor kitten. I must've scared her with my thrashing.

I looked around for my phone, suddenly so glad that the lights of the lounge were too dim to bother my lingering headache, and noticed that the shades over the windows were drawn too. I could just about make the early noon sunlight from a tiny sliver left. When my phone refused to switch on, I grimaced and got up on my feet, glad to feel a little more sure on my footing than I'd been before, and leaned down to pick up the not-exactly-shattered glass from the floor because even though the carpet had taken most of the fall, the glass was still looking a bit chipped.

Only when I was standing once again that I noticed the utter silence all around me. Apart from Gem's casual little offended meows, there was no other sound that told me--reassured me--that Ryder was still here.

Had he left while I was asleep? Taking the now chipped glass and its broken fragments with me to the kitchen, I placed them gingerly on the marble counter and after a short moment of hesitation, walked up the elegant glass staircase and wondered whether I should even roam Ryder's house like this.

I did remember him telling me I could use any of the guestrooms, but I was still surprised when I came across a series of closed doors once I was walking down the dark floored hallway. It was just so empty and cold up here and I had an urge to wrap my arms around myself. I could see two giant doors at the very end of the hallway and maybe that was the huge, open-roofed balcony I'd caught a glimpse of from outside.

I stopped, hesitated, and then cautiously turned the knob of the door nearest me. It wasn't the first door in the hallway because I'd already walked past that one, and so it also happened to be everything that looked nothing like a guestroom.

No, it wasn't. Because to my surprise, what I was seeing right then was a room that looked much like a quaint, warm library.

A library.

It took me a second, long dire seconds to catch my breath when I first noticed the floor-to-ceiling dark shelves filled with books--lots of books of varying sizes and thickness--occupying one whole wide side of the room. The other adjacent side had the same floor-to-ceiling windows like I'd seen downstairs in the lounge, but here was a wide emerald green couch, a well-used cozy couch that I had this sudden, wild urge to sprawl upon. It had seen better days, I could see, just like some of the paperbacks on the fifth row of the first shelf. All of it was everything and nothing like the rest of the pristine, clean, modern penthouse.

The warmth of it all and the notion that somebody used this place a little too often was simply devastating.

I stared around the room from my spot at the doorway in awe, staring with wide eyes and wondering who used this place so much. Did Ryder have someone staying here with him? I'd wondered earlier if...if he lived here alone or--

I took a step away from the doorway threshold and back into the dark, much unwelcoming hallway behind me. Or maybe this was Ryder's, I thought with surprise.

I looked around the room--the cozy, warm library--once again, and a small, disbelieving smile formed on my lips. There were no cushions on the couch, which was a bit absurd, but there was a well-made dip on one side which told me whoever came in here so often preferred that side of the couch more. Sit on that very spot, sprawl carelessly, and maybe pick one of the worn paperbacks from the options of hundreds, and just read with all the peace and warmth around.

Ryder did, and my heart twinged with absolute delight at that thought. This place, this room was Ryder's. Maybe I was wrong and maybe it was someone else's altogether, maybe even someone close to Ryder who used this place, but the thought of Ryder himself using this place and reading all of those...those books made me feel funny in the stomach. And not in a bad way.

It was just so bizarre and not something I think he'd do in his free time. I would've never pegged Ryder as someone who'd have a cozy, warm library in his otherwise cold, pristine house. Just the thought alone made me feel giddy because this could've been the first real thing I'd learned about Ryder and it was nothing like what I'd expect from him.

Maybe this was the exact reason why he didn't want me going out and about snooping around his house by myself.

But the room looked so beautifully lived in, so filled with warmth and peace, that I refused to step inside. I refused to take even a step in there, even though everything inside just begged me to explore (I didn't even like libraries). I was afraid I might ruin it. Disturb the peace in there somehow.

Exhaling softly, I tried to tuck this tiny piece of haven in the safest part of my mind and pulled the door close once again, sparing a few more seconds staring at the dark door.

How weirdly endearing.

Shaking my head and with that stupidly awed grin on my face, I pushed open the next door and was a little disappointed, but relieved too when I saw that this one looked much like a guestroom and not another library or god forbid another tiny warm tidbit from Ryder's secretive life.

I didn't have it in me, at least not right now, to keep finding such things, like that pretty library, and not demand answers from Ryder. Which I knew would just be unfair. As far as I knew him, Ryder preferred the distance. As much as I didn't want it, didn't want the distance for some absurd, desperate reason, I still knew I should respect it. Because I'd seen him when he was really ticked off and I didn't want all that scary anger turned on me.

If I asked him about that library, he'd be pissed at me for intruding, and then what? We'd be back to square one.

I knew things between Ryder and me weren't exactly friendship material, even though he did say we're somewhat acquaintances back at the hospital (which I still wasn't sure how to feel about), but I didn't want to wrong things up between us any further by touching personal topics.

"Let it go, Alice," I whispered to myself, rolling my eyes in quiet agitation, and closed the door behind me once I'd stepped inside the guestroom. Almost immediately, I noticed the cleanly folded clothes on the king-sized bed. I looked down at my own that I was wearing, made a face at the ragged state of them, and headed for the bathroom.

It was a relief and a heavy burden off my shoulders after I'd taken a long shower and scrubbed off all the remnants of the hospital and the storm from yesterday from my body. It was relieving when I changed into the warm, a bit too-large navy blue sweater, and a pair of sweatpants that I had to roll up till my ankles. The warmth that enveloped me right then was just so similar to all the times Ryder had given me his jackets to wear.

Which reminded me of his leather jacket that I still hadn't returned. He hasn't once asked me about it, I thought sheepishly. Did I really wish to give it back?

I found myself frowning down at my bare toes, then at the warm blue sweater, and closed my eyes. I'll give it back. I have to. I will not be that person who holds onto something that's bound to dissolve into thin air.

Letting myself look around the immaculately tidy guestroom once again, I shivered a little at the droplets of water cascading down my hair and my back. I gathered my wits and wandered outside once again.

On my way downstairs, I once again stopped by the closed door of the room which I was perfectly sure now was a library, with all those tall shelves and hundreds of books, and had to force myself to continue moving past it. It was difficult and I continued mentally scolding myself.

I was a little thirsty by then and even though I felt warm and fresh, there was still the pressing matter of bandages. I'd placed a waterproof one over the stitched wound near my neck before getting into the shower (the nurses had repeated plenty to not, absolutely under no condition, get the stitches wet) but the one on my left wrist had to be taken off. Now there wasn't anything covering the thin, long scar on my bare skin, and I had to keep reminding myself to breathe when looking at it and wondering about it started making my chest feel impossibly tight.

A tracker, I thought with sickening nausea churning in my gut. I had a tracker in me all this time.

I brushed the pad of my thumb over the long scar on my wrist, not even noticing I was pressing on it until I winced.

I wondered if I could ask Ryder for some bandages. Maybe I should've paid more attention to what the nurse near me had been saying about how to bandage it. And what about the stitches on my neck? Was I to leave it just like that?

It didn't take me long to notice the lack of silence when I was once again standing near the grand kitchens. Not silent, because I could just about make out an angry voice from some distance--one that, I realized as I followed the deep, angry baritone of it, belonged to Ryder.

I came to a halt near a dark burgundy door that was left open ajar, the tiniest bit, and Ryder's furious words turned even more threatening.

"No, I will fucking find Santiago and I will kill him. I won't let him come after her. He won't touch her, did you hear me? He made the worst mistake coming after her just because he's been keeping tabs on me. I will be the one to burn him alive. Repeat these exact words to my father and tell him I don't need his fucking help. I am not and will never be under his command anymore."

I tensed, pressing my shoulder against the wall beside the door, and felt a bit ashamed that I was eavesdropping in the first place.

There was a loud, long-suffering sigh, and then a voice that seemed to be coming from a phone. Ryder was on his phone.

"You know I can't say that to your father, Octavio." The other person said. At first, I thought it was Rafael but the muffled voice sounded nothing like his.

Ryder was silent and I took another quiet step away from the door.

"He wishes to speak to you himself." The voice continued--flat and calm and mostly just...impassive. It was weirdly familiar because I'd heard Ryder be like that more than half of the time I'd spent near him.

"We had an agreement," Ryder spoke.

"Yes, I am aware, but--"

"If he so much as even thinks of breaking it, I will make sure that would be the last thing he does in his life."

The noise on the other end sounded much like an aggravated intake of breath. "Octavio, you cannot threaten your--"

"That's not my name," Ryder stated almost dismissively. I could still feel the anger in his voice but it was guarded now.

"Your father put you on this mission, Octavio. Do not forget that."

"That is not my fucking name."

Another aggrieved sigh before the impatience in the other person's voice leveled. "Be civil here, Ryder. What is most important here is to catch Santiago before he gets out of hand. Your childish anger isn't going to get you anywhere. If you don't let me send a few more of your father's men to aid you, your father will come to you himself and I am sure you won't like that very much either."

Another tense minute of silence and I told myself I should go before Ryder barged out of his room only to see me eavesdropping so obviously. He didn't seem to be in a good mood and I would only aggravate him further.

"I will ruin you, Matias." I heard Ryder speaking a little too softly, though the promising threat in his voice made me wince.

The person's voice on the other end of the phone call, who I assumed was named Matias, went cold. "Octavio."

Ryder didn't seem to hear it. The only thing he seemed to care about was the pure hatred behind his words. "Everything you hold close to your heart, I will fucking ruin it. You won't even see me coming your way."

"I am just relaying your father's orders!"

"If I hear from my father one more time--" He started but was cut off.

"Your father needs to know what went wrong with that plan you devised! You came up with that plan, Octavio, to go after that girl so that Santiago will follow you and then choose that girl as her next target. Has he still not? Are you chasing dead ends and letting us wait for nothing at all?"

I stared at the blank wall in front of me in a confused daze, trying to repeat his words in my head and make sense of it. A girl? What girl?

"If I hear from my father one more time," Ryder repeated, and the utter disgust and hatred he carried over the word father stunned me, "then I'll start with your beloved Camille, and then your two sons, and don't for even a second think I won't. I don't lie, Matias. I know how pathetically easy it takes to ruin some lowlife like you."

There was a scoff, a slight tremor to the other voice. "You wish me to pretend that you'll come back to your home just to gut me and my family? Empty threats do you no good, Ryder. At least your father doesn't make empty threats."

I heard the faint sound of a clock ticking. My heartbeat fell into the same rhythm. Tick tock tick.

"There is no home, Matias." Ryder finally spoke, his voice devoid of everything. "Call me on my phone again and I will show you, I promise you, how much of my father's son I can really be at times."

That seemed to have hit a sore spot, or maybe--and I was afraid to let my head go that way--he knew Ryder wasn't really bluffing, since he went dead silent on the other end of Ryder's phone. A chill ran down my spine.

He must've hung up on poor Matias since the next thing I heard was a heavy, aggravated exhale before a loud crash resounded from inside the room, a noise that was most probably Ryder throwing his phone against a piece of furniture, and I jumped in surprise. I started backing away from the door anxiously and towards the kitchens when I heard another door being thrown open before it fell shut with a loud slam.

I waited a second, two, but Ryder didn't step out of his room.

I don't know how long I stood there like a statue, my heart running off like a rabbit's in my chest, when I decided I should probably move before Ryder came out for good.

How odd was it that just a few minutes ago I was thinking of that quaint library and him--together. A thought so peaceful seemed to clash with what I'd witnessed just now. I wondered who Matias was, or Santiago for that matter. It strangely felt like I'd heard that name before. Matias or Santiago?

Wait. I had heard that name before!

A loud series of enthusiastic knocks on the front door woke me from the daze and my eyes snapped to the closed penthouse doors.

The knocking stopped and then started up again.

I looked over at Ryder's bedroom, the door still closed, and anxiously rubbed my palms over the soft fabric of the sweatpants I wore. I didn't think I wanted to open the door myself. This was Ryder's house. I would most probably not know the person ringing the doorbell. I wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place.

Or maybe it was just Rafael visiting.

When the knocks started up again for the third time, I crossed the huge lounge and walked further away from Ryder's room and the kitchens. The front doors were huge but without--and unfortunately--anything like peepholes. There was a small camera screen beside the door but I wasn't sure how to activate it.

Instead, I prayed softly under my breath and slowly worked open the locks, pulling the door just the tiniest of inches before peeking outside.

A boy almost my age stood right in front of the door, smiling brightly with a green snapback over his shiny golden curls. I recognized the dark green employee's shirt from Ivy and Co. just before I noticed the numerous single sunflower bouquets gathered in his hands. They were...too many of them.

I stared at him, startled, and didn't much notice myself opening the door the rest of the way. The entirety of my focus was on the sunflowers.

There were too many of them in his hands and the...the white cardboard box near his feet. I noticed that another employee in the same work shirt stood by the elevator, talking to someone on his phone.

"Hello! I'm uh... We're here to deliver these sunflowers. Sorry for the delay. It's a bit busy outside with all the Christmas festivities." The boy in front of me spoke up when I remained stunned and silent, his tone sheepish even though the grin on his lips remained. He waved his hand behind me. "Do you have a preference where I should place them? I can help you get these in. They are a...lot, I guess."

He glanced down at the sunflowers in his hands and then the ones inside the box near his feet.

"I..." I felt my eyes widen when I took them all in once again and my heart started racing again, but for an entirely different reason this time. I didn't even know what exactly to feel right then. "I'm not sure."

The smile on his lips fell and he frowned in concern. "Did we get the wrong address?" He glanced back at the other employee who was still busy on his phone call. "I don't think we did. We're at the address where the order was made to. Are you sure this is not Mr McQuillan's house?"

I needed to get myself together and gather my scattered emotions before I scared off the poor man with my inability to comprehend anything at all.

"No. No." I finally managed to speak. "Um, I can get them inside." Oh God no.

He nodded and carefully handed me the flowers in his hands and the ones he carried with his arms and I was suddenly hit by this smell--the warm, subtle scent of sunflowers--that I couldn't have helped when a giddy laugh left my lips. There were just so many of them!

Oh my God, I thought a bit weakly with nerves.

The Ivy and Co. delivery boy saw my wavering grin and his concern morphed into a relieved smile of his own.

I looked down at the box near his feet, at the numerous more sunflowers, and took a step back to head inside, placing the ones in my hand on one of the kitchen marble islands maybe. But before I could've, one of the sunflowers fell from beneath the cradle of my arm. I tried to catch it before it could meet its fate on the cold ground but it all went wrong when the boy in front of me reached for it at the same moment and we both ended up banging our heads.

I winced at the impact and staggered backwards and he straightened up immediately, grabbing one of my arms. "Oh my God, I am so sorry! Are you all right?"

I was, in fact, not all right. The throb in my head traveled down to my neck and I saw him trying to take the sunflowers from my hands. Which was sweet of him but it made me feel prickly with an emotion too strong and I unconsciously tightened my hold on the sunflowers.

I blinked groggily, glanced down at the hand on my arm, and then up at the delivery boy peering at me with concern, and felt a flush crawl up my face.

There was the sound of footsteps behind me and I felt a familiar presence. "It's all right. I am fine," I said and then turned around in a heady daze to find Ryder only a few feet away. His eyes followed the sunflowers in my hands--his face giving away nothing that might've told me that he'd bought them--and then they fixed on my face for a moment too long, my clothes, before he stared at the delivery boy standing behind me. His hand had dislodged from my arm when I'd turned around, thankfully, but the force of his forehead knocking into mine had still brought stinging tears to my eyes and I tried blinking them away.

I was too surprised and confused and happy to cry right now, for God's sake.

The next instant, Ryder was there beside me, a fleeting touch of his palm on my elbow that I knew I must've imagined before he picked up the box of hundreds of tiny sunflowers placed on the floor. The delivery boy must've sensed the tense silence since he shuffled on the threshold and cleared his throat.

"There's a receipt to be signed, ma'am...sir, actually. Will that be--"

"The guard in the reception lobby will take care of it." Ryder interrupted with an almost arrogant, and maybe even threatening, ease. He fixed another one of those looks at the delivery boy, who paled and frowned at the same time. Ryder glanced at me, then the delivery boy who was still looking a bit too pale, before kicking out the lone sunflower that I'd dropped on the floor until it wasn't inside his house anymore.

"You should leave now." And waited only a second before kicking the door close on the employee's face.

Then he turned around and carried the giant box filled with sunflowers wrapped in thin brown parchment towards the kitchens. I turned to him as well and found myself following him with my heart quite literally in my throat. I wasn't scared. I was more overwhelmed, I came to realize. I couldn't separate one emotion from another and I was afraid...I was afraid that I couldn't even make myself feel the anger at the fact that Ryder had once again (again) bought all these sunflowers for me to make a point.

I didn't know what point he was trying to make this time.

I was so confused and happy and maybe even a little scared and dazed and hurting. Why was he doing this to me?

"Ryder." My voice came out much rawer than I'd intended. My breathing faltered and he must've sensed it--heard it--since he deposited the box on the counter before facing me. "Ryder."

I saw him staring at me, slow contemplation in those blue eyes before he did that thing again--rolled his shoulders in an almost dismissive gesture. "Come here," he said to me as he leaned his back against the counter.

I went to him willingly. I was so cold right now and he was a warm fire. He could use those words anytime and I'd blindly go to him like a fool every time.

The sunflowers were too many and he was asking me to come to him, go near him. I burned inside and I wished.

I looked up at him, surprised when there were mere inches left between us and he still didn't make a move to pull away. It wouldn't make sense anyway, I guessed, to pull away when he was the one who'd asked me to come near.

I stared at him, chest squeezing because for once I wished I could touch him. Wasn't there anything he could want from me?

My breath hitched softly once again when I saw him reach out, taking the sunflower bouquets from my hands with a care that I didn't notice at first, not until his hands were near, fingers brushing the lone strands of my hair off my shoulders, leaning close and touching the sides of my neck and then further back. I shuddered softly when he pressed around the aching spot on my neck. The ache burning so sweetly as he carefully kept his fingers away from the stitches, a touch too light and precise to be considered anything more. But it was more. It was so much more to me, for me, inside me, and my eyes fluttered on their own accord.

"Is it hurting worse than before?" He asked me with a much-assessing frown between his brows.

I laughed shakily. I couldn't not. "What?"

The frown left his face and was replaced by the darkening of his eyes. "He fucking hit your head too hard, didn't he?"

It took me a moment too long to realize he was still stuck at when I'd bumped my head with the delivery boy at the door. How was he still thinking about it?

"No," I said.

"He did. You're lying to me." He scowled, though his fingers were still too gentle as they brushed past my showered hair.

I tensed because for once, I didn't know what to do with a touch so gentle. I didn't. It wasn't a clinical touch, not carefully inspective like the nurses or the doctors. It was a soft whisper that I didn't know what to do with. He could've given a sharp pull to my hair and that would've made much more sense.

"I..." I blinked, mouth going dry, heart squeezing with fear. "Stop. Stop."

His fingers stilled and he stopped, eyeing me strangely but still keeping his hands on me.

"Stop. Don't." I said, freaking out, pushing his hands away. "Don't do that."

Ryder blinked, confused, and then seemed hurt.

"It doesn't feel nice," I told him truthfully before he could come up with his own conclusions.

"So you were lying. Your head is hurting."

"No." I shook my head, wincing. "I meant...I just meant the touch." The soft, gentle touch. How was one supposed to just take it?

He pulled his hands away entirely and held the edges of the counter on either side of him. I instantly cursed myself because what the fuck, Alice? Seriously? I really, really had to say that right now?

My eyes widened. "It was fine!" Please put your hands back on me sounded bad. I'd rather dig up a hole and bury myself in it than let myself speak those words aloud.

"No, it wasn't." He was staring at me inquisitively now. Curious. "Explain to me what you meant and I won't do it again."

Won't do it again? I stared at him with something akin to horror. "You bought me sunflowers!"

"And?"

"Again!"

"Yes." He nodded, and he didn't even have the decency to look sheepish. "I don't understand what the problem is."

I stared at him, astonished and confused and feeling the tiniest bits of devastation right in my heart. A library and sunflowers and a kitten. God, I was so fucked, wasn't I?

"Why did you buy me all these sunflowers, Ryder?"

I saw his hands fidgeting on either side of him, fingers curling on the counter before he stilled. "I came to realize," he started, "that I was a bit...rash back at the hospital."

"You're always a bit rash."

He narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't going to threaten your friend. I suppose he was your friend, wasn't he?" He didn't really seem like he wanted an answer. "I did still throw that weak flower away. The one he gave you."

I blinked, surprised, and looked over towards the lounge, barely making sight of the couches. I'd almost entirely forgotten about the sunflower Nico had given me. I felt awful now. Ryder must've seen that on my face too.

"It was a withering mess." He stated in arrogant disgust. "So I threw it away."

I slowly shook my head in disbelief. "And you bought me a hundred more sunflowers as a...what?"

"A compensation."

A compensation! I looked up at him, in his eyes, in the beautiful blues.

"Do you want me to throw them away?" He asked, and he seemed so genuine, almost as if he would throw them all away the moment I said yes. He wouldn't even hesitate before throwing them away.

"No." I shook my head then looked at the flowers behind him. "I love them." So much.

"Then I don't understand what the problem is."

I forced my gaze away from his, felt the immediate loss, and looked back at him. How was I to tell him that I hadn't had anyone giving me flowers for such a long time? How was I to tell him that the last person who'd gifted me flowers, pretty red roses, hadn't meant it in a simple, endearing gesture as his?

My eyes trailed down from his, to his lips, and I wished things were different. Maybe...maybe we could've met at a bar and not that suffocating underground cellar. We could've met at a bar and maybe he would've let me near him like all those Brendas he'd ever picked up for the nights. Would things have been different that way?

"It's the second time," I whispered to him. The long-sleeved tee he wore, the thin shirt that hugged him in all the right places, wasn't even helping me in the slightest.

"And?" He inquired.

"The...the only time someone bought flowers for me," I said, hesitated, then decided to continue, "it wasn't." I shook my head, a wet strand of my hair sticking to my cheek. "I was told to give something back. You buy me these sunflowers, this is the second time you've done this, and you...don't expect something back from me."

He frowned and made a move to straighten from his leaning position, but I stepped closer first. "Why can't I give you something back?"

A blink and the frown was gone. "I don't need it, querida."

It wasn't a rejection. His eyes were on me. They were always on me. My heart fluttered in my chest.

My throat squeezed in warning and desperation. "I want to," I said.

His knuckles were white as if restraining himself. And then I watched as his gaze raked down my form. "You are wearing what's mine." He said it with a gaze as dark as stormy waters.

"Why don't you ever." I swallowed. "Why don't you ever let me touch you?"

He pushed himself away from the counter and then it was just us, him so close that I almost stumbled back. Just an inch between us, but I didn't pull back.

He reached out once again and brushed the lone strand of my hair away from my cheek, face so close to mine that I forgot how to breathe. My hands ached with the need to reach out myself, but I was unsure. I wasn't as sure as I usually was.

"Is that what you want?" He asked me, his words soft yet his eyes dark with a sweet, promising threat.

I breathed in shakily. "Is that not what you want?"

He stared so deeply into my eyes, my soul, and then his other hand curled into my hair, fingers curling, still mindful of the wound as he gave it a sweet sharp tug, angling my face up. I gasped at the fire that burned within me, at the pain, and the heat settling on my skin. It wasn't gentle like before, but it wasn't harsh either. It was simply lovely.

He pulled me closer and I made the tiniest of sounds when his lips brushed against my jaw--a hot trail up to my ear. I ached. Everything inside me ached. But his grip on my hair kept me close but not close enough.

"If I tell you everything I want from you," he murmured softly, "you might run away, Alice."

I made another sound, desperate, grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away until I could see him. Until he wasn't torturing me with soft sweet brushes of his lips against my skin anymore.

"I won't." I breathed out, eyes wide. Was this how it felt like to want something so badly without any help from alcohol? Would it be like this every time someone picked me up in a bar and I wasn't drunk?

He stroked his thumb along my jawline. "You might."

"Not right now," I told him, pulling my hands away from his shoulders only to fist one in his shirt, giving it a tug towards me. "Please."

He stared at me as if stuck and then leaned forward. Warm breath on my lips, noses touching, and I would've felt it--would've felt the touch of his lips.

But then a sharp bell rang followed by a loud knock on the doors.

And everything I'd touched fell away.

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ha ha ha ;)