Off Sides - By Bennett, Sawyer Page 0,18

I just decided to camp out."

That's interesting and should be slightly flattering he would do that to make sure he could see me. But I quickly tamp that feeling down. I will not fall back under his spell, I repeat to myself over and over again.

"Look, Ryan...you don't owe me any explanation or anything and frankly, I'm good. There's nothing to really talk about."

Anger flashes through those bourbon colored eyes. Score one for a direct hit.

"Didn't the other night mean anything to you?" he demands.

I cock my head slightly at him because it’s certainly weird that he would be affronted by my lack of interest since he’s the one that didn’t call me as promised. "Didn't it mean anything to you?" I retort.

He runs his hand through his hair in a measure of frustration. Sighing, he whispers, "It meant more to me than even I suspected. That's why I need to talk to you."

Something about the earnestness in his words melts a little bit of the ice. He's not giving me a line and I sense it is important for him to tell me something so he can ease his burden. Why I am taking it upon myself to let him do so remains to be seen.

I sigh. "Fine. Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure. That would be great."

I turn and walk back into my building with Ryan on my heels. He doesn't say anything but that doesn't stop me from being painfully aware of his presence behind me. There’s like a disturbance in the atmosphere when I’m near him.

When I open the door and we walk into the apartment, I take off my jacket and throw it over the back of the couch. He follows me into the kitchen.

I pull out two cups and fill them up. I push his cup toward him and indicate cream and sugar which he declines. Just as he's taking a sip, I hear, "What the fuck is he doing here?"

I look behind me and Paula is standing there glaring daggers at Ryan. Not saying a word, my hand reaches out to her palm up. She turns her glare to me then grabs her purse off the counter, fishing around inside. Coming out, she quietly lays one cigarette in my palm. I stick it under the kitchen sink and soak it with water.

As I throw it into the garbage, I hear Paula say, "Pardon me. May I inquire as to what this gentleman is doing in our apartment?"

I glance over at Ryan and he's looking at Paula like she was the bearded lady in the circus...a mixture of grotesque curiosity and humor.

"He's here to talk for a few minutes. I'm choosing to indulge him." I pick up my coffee cup and walk into the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, I watch as Ryan folds his large frame into an old, tattered wicker chair. Our furniture is second hand and mismatched as all get out. Paula walks right in behind him and sits down next to me on the couch. She's still glaring at him and now he's glaring back at her.

"Paula...it’s fine. Give me a few minutes alone to talk to Ryan."

She reluctantly stands up and moves around the coffee table to leave. Pointing her finger at him she says, "I'm watching you, boy."

I can't help but snicker. Paula is five foot nothing and weights ninety pounds soaking wet. But boy can she be scary when she wants to. Ryan does nothing more than give a small nod of his head in her direction then turns his eyes to me.

I settle back into the cushions and take a sip of my coffee, watching him over the rim. He scrubs his hand through his hair which I now see is definitely a nervous gesture. It unsettles me that I immediately take note of how his hair slides forward, lying in gentle waves along the side of his temple and neck. I remember how soft it felt as I ran my own fingers through it not but a few days ago. I sigh at myself. I really need to let the hotness of Ryan go.

Leaning forward, Ryan puts his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. He looks at me and there is sorrow there. Here comes the apology and I try to steel myself against it.

But I’m caught off guard when he doesn't apologize. Instead, he says, "The morning after our date, I woke up thinking about you. And I was