not up for it, I can just take you home.”
And I knew he would. If I wasn’t up for this, Ryder would let me go.
I both loved that and hated it at the same time.
I didn’t want him to let me go.
“I’m up for it.”
And I was. At least for tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I followed Ryder and Phoenix across the street to a standalone brick building with two floors of apartments on top of a small-ish, independent bank. The building was quaint and kind of adorable. There were boxes for flowers hanging out of every second and third story window, but they were empty now because of the season. There was another standalone brick building directly to the east of it, but it was larger and a lighter shade brick than Ryder’s and to the west a block down was the Holland Center, a gorgeous modern performing arts center made of steel and glass.
We entered Ryder’s building through a side door using a keypad access and came immediately to the stairwell. The building was absolutely quiet and dark, the only sound our footsteps echoing off the tile floor as the sound got lost in the open stairwell.
We climbed the long flight of stairs in silence, while Phoenix beat his drumsticks against anything that got in his way: his jean-clad thigh, the bannister, the steps in front of him, Ryder’s back, my arm. There was obviously a song playing in his head, but he was the only one that could hear it. And in the fast flicking of his hands holding the sticks, I realized where all that contained energy was channeled too. Even though his fingers were constantly moving with rhythm his face was calm now, placid and relaxed. It was like this outlet for him completely sedated him, but in a way that was all creative genius.
At the top of the stairs, Ryder opened the heavy metal door with another key and led us into his apartment.
I was honestly surprised to walk directly into his living space, I expected there to be… I don’t know, more to the upstairs. Instead, Ryder’s home consisted of the entire third floor of the building. The loft space was mostly open and heavy with industrial design. There was an incredible round concrete table that took up way more space than I could imagine necessary for a family of three. And there were these rusted looking metal chairs that were clearly one of a kind. They had high narrow backs, but wide seats that were fit almost like old tractor seats, maybe? Weird. The kitchen was darker tones of concrete, and mixed with a 1950’s inspired collection of appliances. The living room was dark, worn leather couches and a mixture of recycled wood turned into a low coffee table and unique end tables. The living room also faced the street-side windows and was completely devoid of electronic entertainment. Doors to what I assumed were either bedrooms or bathrooms broke up the wall space around the room and I couldn’t help but wonder which one led to Ryder’s.
“What do you think?” Ryder asked in a quiet, self-conscious voice.
Phoenix’s drums suddenly burst through the apartment in random thuds and thumps of energy. While he warmed up I couldn’t bite back the smile.
“I love it,” I answered. I did love it. I loved the scattered newspaper covering the coffee table, the forgotten about coffee cups still sitting in front of pushed out chairs at the table. I loved the smell of some kind of spicy dinner that remained in the air, Ryder’s indoor soccer gear piled in a messy heap by the door. I loved that this place felt like a home. I loved that his home was lived in. “Where did you find all this…. stuff? Who did your dad hire?” I laughed taking in the ginormous table. That must have been insane to move up three flights of stairs and through the narrow door.
“Hire? You mean a decorator?” Ryder’s face was scrunched up in confusion. I nodded though, wondering absently what my mom would think about all this. “We didn’t hire anybody. My dad has a soft spot for student art and my uncle is big on the whole Renew, Reuse, Recycle thing. Together, they created this…. mess.”
“Mess?” I barely held back my offended gasp.
“Yes, Ivy. Mess. This isn’t a decorating scheme. This is Goodwill meets the Habitat for Humanity Restore shop and has a love child with every starving artist in the city. It’s definitely a