It all started with a game

Chapter 21

It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.
~Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

A/N
Shoutout to @dontaskidrk for the 1k comment because I totally forgot to give them their deserved shoutout four or five chapters ago .
And because so many of you said you preferred it, I made this one a long chapter for you all :)

Chapter 21
Beatrice's POV
I ran my finger along the curves of Ryder's back, his bare skin burning with heat, each and every muscle tense under my hand as they had been for the last few minutes.

He's never been a peaceful sleeper, at least not from what I've seen. He wakes up numerous times through the night, shifts positions constantly, and when he finally stops moving, his entire body is completely stiff, like it is now.

We stayed up for most of the night, talking about random things, stories about his dad, stories about Klaus and Sonny; I had plenty of those. We talked about anything that came to mind until it was morning. And of course, the hopeless romantic and book reader in me had to drag him outside to watch the sunset with me.

I still hadn't told him what happened at the hospital, why I kicked him out. I couldn't bring myself to tell him. I wanted one last night with him, one last night where I could just talk to him, and stay in his arms before I told him. Because once I tell him, he'll leave and things will never be the same between us. I wanted one last night.

I pressed my lips to his shoulder. His body slowly slacked, sinking into the bed and relaxing at my touch.

I still can't fathom how he sleeps on his stomach, but it does make him drool, which I will be teasing him about for the next few hours. He hates anything that makes him less than perfect, but I liked it. He wasn't like the guys I read about in books; they are always perfect. Authors try to make the guys seem flawed, but they never truly are. They're always perfect in a slightly imperfect way. I couldn't even remember the last time I read a romance where the love interest drools; the main character, yes, the love interest, no.

I rubbed his back, letting my eyes roam over him and memorize every shadow and curve of his body, the way his hair fell across his eyes or the way his back rose and fell as he took a breath. It was a shame his eyes were closed, or else I would have memorized those too. He had the prettiest eyes: bright green, with little specks of brown in them, like his eyes had freckles. I wanted to know him like the back of my hand, so when I did tell him, and he left, I could still remember. Part of me just wanted to tell myself one more day like this for a hundred days, so I'd never have to tell him. But the longer I waited, the harder it would be when he left.

So when Ryder's eyes fluttered open I knew our happy bubble had to burst. He quickly covered his eyes with his arm letting out a soft groan. "What time is it?" Ryder attempted to bury his face into the pillow to protect him from the sun.

I checked the clock. "One...PM."

Ryder let out another aggravated sigh. "Too early."

I rested my chin on his shoulder. "Come on, I can make you breakfast," I tried to bribe him out of bed, because as much as I enjoyed laying here with him, I'd been up for an hour already and I really needed to move my legs.

He opened one eye. "You're going to make breakfast?" He said with a sort of snark that made me half tempted to slap him.

I gaped at him. Rude. You set one spatula on fire and you get judged for life. "I can cook breakfast," I defended myself.