One of the Guys (A Ryan Reynolds fanfic)

Chapter Six: Let's Get Dangerous

L.A. was never really dark. It had this sickly Dawn of the Dead glow about it. I scratched under my chin and searched the hazy sky for stars. The smog was like a blanket suffocating anything beautiful. Not that there was anything beautiful in this part of the town. It was all neon, hookers, and blow. Cocaine. Helluva drug. Much misspent youth. You end up snorting a lot more powdered sugar than Bernice. Nothing is sexier than bleeding all over your date from the nose as you try to slide into third. This is your old Uncle Ryan saying don't do drugs, Kids. It's expensive and messy. Invest in something worthwhile. Like sex toys. Double the pleasure, double the fun. Also, legal. I'm not seeing a downside.

My feet picked a direction and my body followed. My mind was left back at the apartment, haunting the shitter.

"HEY!" I glanced behind me and did a double take, nearly tripping over a bum that was passed out on the sidewalk. Running towards me was a robe clad avocado with tufts of cotton peaking out over her flipflops. Behind her, I made out a shadow heading towards a sleek car that was clearly too expensive for this block.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked Oli, catching her around the waist as she slammed into me. "Are you okay?"

Her face hit my shirt and she gave me a tight hug.

She peeled her face off of me and I grimaced as my shirt snapped back, green and sticky.

Gross. "Why did you leave?"

"Because you two were getting back together...? I really liked this shirt." I muttered the last part, focusing on something other than the situation at hand. I pulled the green goo between my thumb and index finger and rubbed it.

"No, we weren't." My eyes jerked up at her offended tone. "Do you think that I'm so desperate to take back some guy that picks me up and puts me down like some reject from the Island of Misfit Toys? Fuck that shit. Plus, he's a bitch. You had to talk him into coming to see me."

I couldn't help but laugh. She looked like a pissed off squash. Frumpy brows and angry eyes. Her brows furrowed more and I offered a boyish grin. "I can't take you seriously when you look like the housewife from hell. Let's get you inside and cleaned up." I chuckled and drew her under my arm. I rubbed her shoulder and directed her back to the front of the apartment building.

She hopped up the stairs and I took the opportunity to goose her. She yelped and I smiled. The weight of these past months lifted off of my shoulders with a handful of sentences. "Move it, Fern Face."

"Fuck you, Reynolds." She snarked as she opened the door.

"Well, when you put it like that." I cooed stepping in behind her. "You want it on the couch, counter, or bed? Mouth, hand, or treasure chest?"

She turned around and I bumped into her. She looked up at me in a way that I didn't recognize. I tilted my head. She tugged my shirt from my chest and began to wipe away the face mask with the corner of her robe. What was going on?

"Can we talk?" Her voice was barely audible over the sound of my overthinking.

"...sure." My heartbeat was thundering in my ears as she chewed her lower lip. She dumped the assclown. Was she dumping me now? Was she swearing off anything with dangly bits?

"Why didn't you like Richard?" I met dove grey eyes that glistened with unshed tears. Is this what regret looked like?

"I lik-"

"Shut up and tell me the truth." She said through clenched teeth, staring at my mouth.

I cleared my throat. "Intense Olivia is intense." I swallowed and cracked my neck. "I didn't like him.." I cleared my throat again and squared my shoulders. "I didn't like him because he wasn't right for you."