Complicated

Chapter seven

*Ryan's POV*

The next few days flew by in a blur of preparations, photoshoots, and fittings. Roger's excitement for the upcoming project kept him buzzing, and I could tell he was thrilled to see how it would all play out. But my mind wasn't entirely focused on the work; Keith had been on my mind more than I liked to admit. His quiet confidence, the way he looked at me, the unspoken tension between us—it all left me feeling unsettled.

I couldn't shake the memory of how he'd come back to check on me that night. It was thoughtful, but it also confused me. I wasn't used to anyone caring like that—especially not a man. Not after Mike.

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the outfit I was trying on for the upcoming shoot. My reflection stared back at me, and I couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive. I had a feeling that working with Keith over the next three weeks was going to challenge me in ways I wasn't prepared for.

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The next morning, I met Keith at the private jet hangar, trying to act casual despite the luxurious surroundings. His jet was sleek, with the black exterior shining under the early morning sun. He stood by the entrance, casually scrolling through his phone as if this was an everyday occurrence for him. When he noticed me approaching, he put his phone away and greeted me with a nod.

"You ready?" he asked, his tone as calm as ever.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's not every day I fly on a private jet."

He smirked, but it wasn't cocky—it was just Keith. "Well, get used to it. We've got a lot of flying to do in the next few weeks."

I followed him onto the jet, my nerves bubbling under the surface. The interior was even more stunning than the exterior—leather seats, a mini-bar, and enough space to stretch out and relax. I tried not to be too impressed, but it was hard not to be.

As we settled in, the silence between us grew a little heavy. I wanted to thank him again for what he did that night, but the words seemed to get stuck in my throat. Instead, I glanced at him, trying to read the expression on his face. He seemed relaxed, completely at ease, while I was overthinking everything.

"Ryan," he said suddenly, catching me off guard. "I was serious when I asked if you wanted to chill sometime."

I blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his words. "You mean, like, hang out?"

"Yeah. No pressure or anything. I just figured, since we're going to be working together for the next few weeks, it might be cool to get to know each other better."

I studied him for a moment, trying to gauge if there was something more behind his offer. But his expression remained neutral, his usual guarded look in place. Keith wasn't easy to read, and that only made me more curious.

"Sure," I said finally. "That sounds good."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, the tension between us seemed to ease. "Great. I'll let you know when I'm free."

The jet began to take off, and I leaned back in my seat, trying to relax as the familiar pull of the engines pushed us into the sky. The view from the window was stunning—clouds drifting by as we soared over the city, leaving everything behind.

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After we landed in New York, the exhaustion from the flight finally caught up with me. Keith and I didn't say much as we gathered our things and headed toward the hotel. It had been a long day, and neither of us had the energy for small talk.

The ride from the airport to the hotel was quiet, with only the sounds of the city filling the silence between us. I stared out the window, watching the blur of lights and people as we made our way deeper into Manhattan. I'd been to New York before for work, but it always managed to take my breath away. The energy of the city was unlike anywhere else.

When we arrived at the hotel, I was relieved to see how nice it was. The lobby was sleek and modern, with marble floors and a massive chandelier hanging overhead. I felt a little out of place, but Keith didn't seem fazed at all. He checked us in while I stood nearby, letting him handle everything.

"Here's your room key," he said, handing me one of the two cards. "We're on the same floor, but you've got your own room."

"Thanks," I said, taking the card from him.

We rode the elevator up to the top floor in silence, both of us too tired to make conversation. When we reached our floor, we walked down the hall together until we reached my room.

"Well, goodnight," I said awkwardly, shifting the weight of my suitcase in my hand. I wasn't sure what else to say, and Keith's expression was unreadable as usual.

"Goodnight," he replied simply, turning toward his own room without another word.

I watched him walk away for a moment, feeling that strange tension again. He never said goodbye, never lingered like most people would, but that was just Keith.

Shaking my head, I unlocked my door and stepped inside. The room was spacious, with a huge bed and a view of the city that would have impressed me if I wasn't so tired. I dropped my bags by the door and headed straight for the bathroom, ready to wash off the day.

As I stood under the warm spray of the shower, I let myself relax for the first time in hours. Tomorrow was going to be another long day, but at least for now, I could just breathe.

After drying off and slipping into a pair of oversized pajamas, I climbed into bed. The sheets were soft, the bed was comfortable, but my mind wouldn't quiet down. Thoughts of the upcoming shoot, of Keith, of everything I'd left behind, swirled in my head.

I turned on my side, staring at the glowing skyline of New York City through the window. For the first time in a long while, I felt both excited and nervous about what the next few weeks would bring.

With one last glance at the twinkling lights outside, I closed my eyes and let sleep take over.

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