No Such Thing

Chapter 5

Playlist:
Waiting On The World To Change - John Mayer
Día De Enero - Shakira
Knee Socks - Arctic Monkeys

Ugh. Is it morning already? It's so bright I can't even manage to open my eyes. What's that smell? Blueberries? One eye finally decides to participate and that's when I realize I'm not in my room. Now both my eyes are wide and disoriented trying to figure out where the hell I am. Do I hear John Mayer? Oh my god.. I slept with John Mayer. No wait. I look down at the comforter that's swallowing me and the night before finally resurfaces in my brain. This is Ryder's bed. Well, that's a letdown. John Mayer would've been a lot more scandalous. I untangle myself from the ridiculously large bed and make my way to the bathroom and see that I'm only wearing one sock. When I finish washing my face, I make my way out of the bedroom to see Ryder in nothing but his boxers dancing around his kitchen flipping pancakes. Sunlight is pouring in through the whole apartment and lighting up the dagger on his back, highlighting every muscle as well. I bite my lip to shut my mouth that had betrayed me and fallen open. There's a shiny blue record player on the coffee table with a vinyl spinning, which would explain my momentary John Mayer fantasy. "I think I may have lost one of your socks." I caught him off guard and he flipped a pancake right onto the floor. It was too difficult to hide my laughter. "I'm sure it couldn't have strayed too far. Probably somewhere lost in my bed. Good morning by the way." As he picked up his culinary casualty from the floor, his his brown silky waves shook and covered his eyes. He effortlessly slicked them back and I looked away before he could catch me staring. "Do you have any uh- coffee?" "Yeah, I just wasn't sure how you take it." "Black." All my favorite things were black. Coffee, wardrobe, mascara, even possibly my soul. "That makes two of us then. Careful it's hot." He planted a hot mug in front of me. I picked it up, examining the yellow smiley face with its tongue sticking out on the side. He saw that my face was full of question as he put down a plate of pancakes on the counter and slid them toward me. "My sister got it for me before she left. She says it looks like her, so I have a piece of her with me while she's gone." He takes a sip from a Columbia University mug. An Ivy League alumni? Really? "I didn't know you went to school." "Oh this? I went for a semester and dropped out. Wasn't my cup of... Coffee." He raises his mug in hopes that I'll get his poor excuse for a joke. "I'm sure your parents were very proud of that decision." "Ha, ecstatic. Every time I do something not up to par with them they just send me off to another country for a while and make up some excuse to their friends that I went to represent them for some charity organization or some shit." His parents sound like they have quite the hearts of gold. After drowning his pancakes in syrup I take a bite and they're heavenly. "Is there cinnamon in these?" "Oh god do you hate cinnamon too?" I'm not that terrible. "No, they're really good actually. I was just curious." What the fuck am I even still doing here? It's official. I've lost my mind. God himself must've heard me because my phone started ringing and I jumped up to grab my bag and answer it.

"Hello if this is an alien abductor I'll have you know I'm much scarier than you when I'm angry and I'm sure of it. So just hand over Stella and I won't tear out your little green asshole." "Jo it's me." My agent constantly reminds me how sane I actually am and I thank her for it. "Well how am I supposed to know that when every girl over here is rambling on about how you disappeared into thin air last night? And don't even get me started on the gossip about you leaving with one of those ratpack boys. I shut that one down real quick. What a joke." Fantastic. People are talking and for once it's the truth. The last thing I need is to admit it. And it really is a joke. I need to get out of here before anyone finds out. I'll never hear the end of it if somebody catches me leaving this apartment. Did you hear? Stella Mason was caught sneaking out of Ryder Wells's apartment last night. That hypocritical bitch was fucking him the whole time. What a judgmental skank. "Yeah.. A real joke." "You sound hungover. Lucky for you, you have the day off today. But tomorrow you've got a shoot with Dazed and Confused so take it easy and sober up. No need for eyebags missy." "Alright got it. Great." "Enjoy it." She hangs up and I groan as I rest my head against the nearest wall. "You okay there?" I turn my head and open my eyes and all I see is abs. I quickly straighten out and compose myself fighting not to blush. "Just work stuff. The usual." I walk back into the bedroom and collect my jeans and lock myself in the bathroom to put them on in order to avoid anymore awkward stares from Ryder. When I come back out I slip his sweater off and remember my jacket is in the living room. Well, I tried. I walk back out in my bra and jeans after folding his clothes and placing them neatly on his dresser. I was quiet enough because he hasn't budged from the couch where he's watching TV. I grab my jacket and zip it up far enough so you can't tell I'm not really wearing anything underneath. My laziness overcomes my desire to look classy. "You're leaving." It was more of a statement than a question. Did I hear a hint of sadness? "It's Sunday you know. Gotta do... Sunday stuff." I couldn't have come up with something better than Sunday stuff? "Oh." "Plus I'm sure you have plans to go out with your ra- friends and find another girl to entertain yourself with now. I'm just getting out of your way. Thanks for letting me stay and for the pancakes." I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door. He gets up and is behind me faster than I can blink. "What kind of Sunday stuff?" "What?" Yeah, what? "You said you had to do Sunday stuff. What exactly does that entail?" He's leaning against the wall and I notice he's still not wearing a shirt. Along the left side of his collarbone is a date in Roman numerals. I'm staring at his naked chest. Shit. "Uh I don't know groceries, laundry, season catch-ups.." "Do you prefer doing those things alone? Is it some sort of ritual of yours?" He crosses his arms and it's like he's taking a genuine interest in something as trivial as the tedious shit I do on Sunday's. I don't get this guy's deal. "No it's just not something I usually involve other people in. I'm not much of a social butterfly." "Really? I hadn't noticed." There goes that obnoxious smirk of his. "I'm going to leave now." Once again I'm attempting to exit and never look back and try and forget any of this ever happened. "If you wait for me to put some clothes on I'll accompany you. I actually thoroughly enjoy grocery shopping. Probably just sounded like a forty-five year old mother of three but.." The most desired billionaire bachelor in New York City just asked me permission to let him do groceries with me. Ryder Wells was gonna pick out granola and toothpaste with me. I've come to the conclusion that I'm in some strange nightmare caused by some really bad veggie lo mein. "Sure." Really really REALLY bad lo mein. "Uh alright. I'll be back in a minute." He disappears into his bedroom and I'm more confused than I've ever been.

"How do you not like cherries?" He's shoving some cherry vanilla granola in my face and I'm very close to shoving the box up his ass. "I hate cherry anything. It's gross. Get that box out of my face." He just reminded me that I'm about to be visited by mother nature's monthly gift as I push the cart into another aisle. I get to the feminine products and groan as I see him messing with the contraceptive section. "I think you might actually be twelve." "Okay grandma keep looking for your bloody diapers." "You're so disgusting." I roll my eyes at his childish antics as I see him attempting to juggle a couple boxes of condoms. When he drops them all on the ground I can't help but laugh as I roll out of that aisle, leaving him behind to clean up his mess. I still don't understand why he's here. I'm sure he has some yacht shopping to do. As I pile my items onto the belt at the register I can't help but make a face of utter disgust when I see Georgia on the cover of Harper's Bazaar. I flip the magazine around on the rack so no one has to suffer and see her weasel-looking face. "I saw that." Ryder is once again beside me and grinning from ear to ear. "What's it to you?" "Just don't act like you've got some stick up your ass when I do something childish. Now I've got you blackmailed." "I'm so scared." I don't have a stick up my ass.. "You should be." His eyes get a bit too intense so I turn away from his gaze and swipe my card.

"You can drop it all on the counter." I shut the door behind him and he heads to my kitchen balancing all my grocery bags. He insisted that he carried everything. "Nice place." My Upper West Side apartment wasn't very spacious but it was good enough for me. My couch was black leather and I had one of those spherical chairs that hangs from the ceiling and kinda swings around. My DVR was blinking. "Shit!" "What?" I tackled my couch and rushed to turn my TV on. "Ugh I'm out of space and Gotham is on tonight. This is what happens when I'm always fucking busy." I was whining and he was laughing at my expense. "Why don't you start watching some of them now?" "You're here." "Oh I'll leave if you wan-" "No." Yes! "I mean you don't have to go." Yes, yes he does have to go. "In that case. How about I order pizza?" He plops down next to me. Way too close. He sees my glaring and scoots away. "Only if you get pineapple. At least on half." "Pineapple for the ice princess it is." My nose crinkles at that nickname. "Sorry I didn't mean it like that." "I've been called worse." Much worse. He pulls out his phone and calls the pizza joint while I slip away to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. I come back out in my plaid Marc Jacobs shorts and black Saint Laurent crewneck. I press play on American Horror Story and curl up on my side of the couch. "No socks?" "It's not cold enough for socks." "I see."

While the show is on we fall into comfortable silence. I appreciate that he isn't the constant commentary type because I get very focused when I'm watching a show I love. Even when the pizza arrives he brings me a slice and we eat side by side in peace. The episode ends and the silence is broken. "Doesn't it creep you out?" "Not really. It's more about the deeper meaning than the actual scary elements of the show." "I'm more of a comedy man myself." "I could put a movie on if you're scared you'll have nightmares." "Thank you for your consideration and concern for my state of sleep. Yes, I'd like to see a movie but I'm picking this time." I hand him the remote reluctantly and he smiles victoriously. I catch myself secretly watching him as he concentrates on flipping through his choices, grunting whenever the menu freezes. Goodfellas is his movie of choice. One of my favorites. Halfway through the movie I feel myself drifting off to sleep.

*Ryder's POV*
Stella's head suddenly hits my shoulder. I didn't even know she was falling asleep. As much as I don't want to wake her, I'd rather her not sleep on the couch. I take the risk of her kneeing me in the groin and gently lift her into my arms and carry her to her bedroom. She shifts and moans a bit, but damn is she a heavy sleeper. I lie her down on her bed and tuck her in. Once again she looks like a sleeping angel, heavenly as ever in this tranquil state. I attempt to pull myself away from her side to retreat to the sofa where I know she prefers me to be, but as I move away I feel a tug on my arm. She's clinging on as if I'm a teddy bear. Fuck. She has no idea what she's doing to me. My parents are gonna be mad as hell that I skipped out on their party in the Hamptons tonight, especially since I ignored all of their calls. I crawl in bed beside her and wrap my arms around her just as I did last night. She wiggles closer to me and I swear I hear her heart beating as I fall asleep to the sound of her breathing.