Crush Crush

Chapter One

His name was Ryder Duchannes and he was gorgeous—in the totally masculine, immaculately dressed, perfectly mussed hair sort of way. He was also a little angry—but that only made him more attractive. His eyes darted from me to the boy whose lap I was currently using as my foot rest.

"Get. Out." Two words spoken with a deep, dominant voice that sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine.

"Y-Yes, sir," Billy said, quickly throwing my feet off of his lap and running out of the room. I heard the front door slam behind him. Coward.

Ryder turned his attention on me. "What are you doing, Isabel?"

I scoffed. "I could ask you the same thing, Ry. Since when do you have a key to my house?"

"Since your parents left the country for a month and left me in charge of the estate."

I chuckled humorlessly, mumbling under my breath, "Fancy word for a prison."

He tossed several unopened letters addressed to "Drs. Ricardo and Serena Rodriguez" onto the kitchen counter and turned to face me. His eyes were a cool emerald green as they locked on to me. "I thought we agreed, no boys."

I rolled my eyes. "No, we agreed no parties. Besides," I shrugged, "he was tutoring me."

Ryder's eyes narrowed a fraction. "In what, anatomy?"

I scowled at him. "Sex ed, actually."

I turned off the TV and started to gather my school supplies.

Screw you, Ryder, I thought. We actually were studying, only it was for my math exam tomorrow. I sucked at calculus and Billy was helping me with the study guide.

I was fed up with him—Ryder, that is. My parents skip out on me for a month and leave this asshole behind to babysit me. Chloe and I accidentally dry up their booze cabinet one time and they sic the older, "more mature" next-door neighbor on me, claiming I needed a temporary guardian to watch me while they go on adventures the across the world, delivering medical supplies to developing countries.

Ryder had been our neighbor ever since I could remember. His parents used to own the house next door, but they had since moved out in favor of a gated retirement community and left the house to their then-twenty-year-old son. To this day, six years later, their son used the house to parade different women in and out every weekend. Lord only knew how many STIs the douchebag had.

"Have you eaten?"

His question caught me a little off guard, pulling me back into the present, but I continued to stack my books and laptop, sighing. "I'm not a child, Ry. You can get out of my house now."

"Answer the question, Isabel." His tone was flat.

However, he wasn't getting annoyed or frustrated with me—which was probably what made me dislike him so much, no matter how hot he was. He was so calm and dull, but always sexy as hell. He never lost his temper, nor did he smile. Sure, he had his occasional jokes, but they were all delivered dead-panned, no emotion or hint of humor in his eyes. It's like the guy was a stone or a monk—but I knew for a fact that he wasn't the latter.

Since I could comprehend the definition of "one night stand," I had seen girls in skimpy outfits leave the house in the wee hours of Sunday morning. I only saw them sneaking out because I was usually sneaking in to my own house after my own Saturday night escapades.

I dropped my stuff on the couch and turned to face him, hands on my hips. "Yes. I had a three course meal. Billy even made me dessert. Now, get out."