skinny love | shyland

sixteen

ryland's pov

"i'll have a pack of malboro lights, please." i grumbled at the gas station worker, who looked about fifty and as though he would rather be doing anything else than standing behind the counter i leant on. the crisp grey sleeves of my suit jacket picked up the slight layer of dust over the surface, and i hesitantly retracted my posture before handing over a twenty dollar bill. not a word was exchanged between either of us after that, with my change being roughly passed into my hand and a swift nod of gratitude echoing through the store.

waking up on the wrong side of the bed is often a term of phrase used in a sarcastic and demeaning manner, a metaphor that jars it's target into a defensive rhetoric. yet this morning, it could not of been more truthful. at just past eight o'clock, i was awoken by a complete stranger knocking on my door trying to sell some kind of religious magazine subscription, and by the time i'd mumbled my disinterest and headed into the kitchen, i realised that conor was not in the kitchen, hungover with a coffee in his hand, as i'd expected. in just a pair of sweatpants i swiftly poked my head around each door, anger building up inside my chest as i realised that his side of the bed was still completely cold when i woke up this morning.

he didn't even come home. staying out till the early hours of the morning after promising it was 'just one drink' was bad enough, but not even sending a text or stumbling in drunk at a ridiculous time? irritation ran deep through me as i shook away any sense of rationale, realising that i could've gotten away with staying out even longer last night and conor wouldn't have had any idea.

i had three missed calls from shane once i'd stepped out the shower, my hair slicked back and wet as i pressed my ear to the receiver and listened to the thrum of the familiar dialling tones as his voicemail played.

"hi princess." my stomach surged as the audio clip began to play, his morning voice thick and slightly croaky, as though he'd just opened his eyes. i tried not to imagine him laying shirtless in bed speaking into his phone. "i need you to do me a massive favour. i know, another one, i'm clearly pushing it seeing as you saved my ass yesterday. but i've run out of cigarettes and i'm running late, can you grab some on your way over? call me back."

not having the patience to deal with his flirtatious begging when i already had one hungover man doing my head in, i'd thrown my phone onto the bed and towel dried my hair, got ready to leave and resisted calling him back as i went. that left me walking out the run down gas station with several dozen thoughts whirring in my mind, not even a second spared for the fact that just the sound of his voice had sent the muscles in my abdomen crazy.

with the roads being nearly empty, i pulled up outside the tall white building just a quarter of an hour later, adjusting my light pink button up shirt as i walked through the hallway.

"could you pass these on to mr dawson, please?" a young boy, looking only about seventeen, asked in a quiet voice as i approached our office door. his arms looked like they were about to buckle under the weight of the stack of papers, but despite my hands being occupied with cigarette packets and phones, i tucked the pile underneath and kicked the door open with my foot.

"do you come bearing gifts?" shane drawled with a smile on his face. his feet were kicked up on the desk, one crossed over the other, as he scrolled through his emails on his laptop. despite a witty comment sitting on my tongue i threw the packet of marlboro lights in his direction and resisted the urge to laugh when it smacked him directly in the forehead.

"you owe me twenty dollars." i retorted and lugged the filed documents over to him. the palm of his hand reached out to touch the outer side of my thigh and i felt my breath hitch in the back of my throat.