Patient

17

Ryanne

"Ry, Ry wake up."

I hear someone say as they nudge my shoulder. I groan turning around swatting the hand away.

"Ry, the game is in an hour. You're gonna be late."

"Aren't you going too?". I mumble into the sofa cushion.

"The fuck?"

I raise my head, my eye still closed. "Aren't you going too?"

"No, I...Um...I want to go home and stay away from alcohol for a while."

I finally sit up and waving her over beside me. I hug her to my side and give her a kiss on her cheek. "Whenever you need someone, for what ever the reason you know I'm just a call away."

"Thank you Ry. I wouldn't have known how to do that without you."

"I love you, dickhead."

"I love you too, asshat."

Yeah, sometimes we are worse than guys.

~ • ~

I am ready in half and hour and I infer Kellan is as well so I tuck my keys and money on my skinny jean pocket locking the door behind me. Crossing the hall to his door, I knock. It's a 15 minute drive and if we don't hurry, we'll miss the start of the game.

He opens the door flustered and...shirtless. Oh God is my mouth open? I close it and out of embarrassment I don't reach up to wipe the obvious drool.

"Sorry, I fell asleep and just woke up. Just give me five."

He says all flustered probably oblivious to my eyes traveling along his fine ridges and a tattoo. My oh my. A dragon tattoo on his left pec, wrapping around his left arm. He disappears into his bedroom I suppose and I let myself in. I had never see. The inside of his apartment but it is...immaculate. Nothing out of place. In fact, it looks like it's not even lived in. No pictures, no paintings, bare walls, not even curtains. There is no T.V. In the living room, no sound system. The only thing that maybe tells people there is someone actually living there is the acoustic, base and electric guitars on their respective stands beside the only window in the room.

"Okay, I'm ready."

He says walking out with a plaid blue, red and white shirt and matching Sperry shoes.

"Let's go then." Feeling somewhat underdressed I look down at my favorite white, red and blue converse. Oh well, at least I am wearing my favorite jeans an my hair is down. Why am I worrying about my appearance anyway? Because he looks extra yummy! My subconscious yaps at me.

As we enter my beloved car, this unexplicable energy wraps us in it's confines. "I was wondering, are you planning to drink a lot tonight?" I ask him as I back out of my spot.

"No, I am not. There are only two occasions for which I drink until I pass out." He says a somewhat grim smile on his face.

"For your birthday and for when it's not your birthday?" I ask.

He chuckles. "No. Why you asked anyway?"

"Well, I for once, want to drink which is weird but would you mind being the designated driver?" I don't know why I am able to trust this guy with my car, I don't even trust one of my girls but there is soemthing about him that flourishes trust.

"Sure, I'd be honored to."

I nod and tell him he can chose what to play from my iPod. I don't have to tell him twice. He picks Kings of Leon's Sex on Fire. We both start singing at the top of our lungs as we weave through the early night trafic. Both of our voices are horrible but somehow we are comfortable, laughing as we continue to sing and he plays an imaginary guitar. The song changes to Lady Antebellum's Bartender and it couldn't fit my mood any better.