The Quirky Tale of April Hale (Quirky Series #1)

10. The Quandaries of a Simple Tee

10.  The Quandaries of a Simple Tee

Days rolled by without any notable interaction between me and Ryder Black. I genuinely thought that once again I’ve fallen under his radar.

He definitely didn’t fall under my radar, much to my dismay.

I think I have developed some sort of Rydermania, which is just a medical and slightly less creepy way of saying that I was taking notice of his comportment a little bit too obsessively.

This hasn’t been doing my health any good.

I had always known that I knew him a little too much to be considered normal. I certainly took advantage of my position as his neighbor. But ever since he slept on my bed, my curiosity over him was piqued. I wanted to know why he was so angry all the time. I wanted to know why he was so alone. 

Most of all, I wanted to know where he got his tattoos.

He was staying less and less at his house, which was easily characterized by the absence of screaming matches and the absence of punk/rock songs that played on the night. While I slept better and got better complexion due to this, sometimes I found myself staring at his window at night.

Of course, Marcy and Corinne were both saddened with Ryder’s disappearance. Their favorite activity whenever they visited my home was spying on him in a way that reminded me of Disturbia. 

You see, Ryder had a habit of walking around his room half-naked. I guess that months of street-fighting and the private gym sessions at night hardened his abs so much that he just felt the need to look at his naked glory all the time. That was why there was a ginormous standing mirror inside his room, anyway.

Marcy and Corinne, too, shared his appreciation on his body. Sometimes a little too loudly.

When that happened, however, Ryder simply closed the blinds and resumed weight-lifting while reading yet another of those smutty Harlequin novels. 

“I’m missing my daily eye-candy,” Corinne sighed. Perched on her nose was a new black-rimmed hipster glasses. We were just about to get into the class, which was the only reason why she talked to me. Both Marcy and Corinne went into a total silent mode whenever the teacher lectured. They claimed that it was their way to appreciate the education.

“Are you sure that Ryder Black hasn’t been home for a couple of days? Where does he live?” Marcy said.

I shrugged. “He’s got a few friends outside from school, I guess.”

“I still think it’s so auspicious of you to be neighbors with him,” she sighed wistfully. “I mean, if not for that forsaken window, us nerdy girls couldn’t get any legit actions. I wouldn’t know what a real, breathing sixpack would look like and would always under the notion that those abs on TV are digitally remastered.”

Note to self: Search on the dictionary for ‘auspicious’.

“Oh my God, totally, Marcy!” Corinne said a little too excitedly. “It’s just too bad that we still haven’t been able to talk to him. Like, in person.”

Marcy sighed. “Or any other boys.”

“Well, I can talk pretty damn well to the that Johnson lad, but I’m sure if he lost weight and cured his acne, I’d freeze whenever I see him.”

Both of my friends high-fived sullenly while I frantically racked my brain for any kind of reassurance for them. But then I realized that I couldn’t find anything nice to say about their selective-oddity whenever they were around pretty boys because their cases were too severe.