Until love

Caught in the Undertow

Getting to hang out with Ryan, even if we were always accompanied by my friends, was turning out to be more refreshing than I expected. I had to admit, the more time I spent with him, the more I found myself easing into a rhythm I hadn't experienced in a long time—laughter came easier, and there was this sense of... comfort.

The day at the restaurant? Hilarious. It felt like I was a kid again, doing something mischievous just for the sake of fun. And when you start feeling carefree around someone, when you allow yourself to just be, well... that's a powerful thing. A dangerous thing.

It terrified me a little.

I was getting used to Ryan—too used to him. Every time I saw him, that prickly barrier I'd built for years came down. There was safety in his presence that I couldn't explain, and oddly enough, it was the kind of safety I'd expect from... a brother. A sibling. Someone you know is there to protect you no matter what.

That thought sent a shiver through me.

I didn't want to get too comfortable. After all, what did I really know about him? Sure, we laughed and joked, and he seemed like the perfect guy, but there was something... something just beyond the surface.

And I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his story. He had a secret. I could sense it. He was always laughing, but there were moments—fleeting, barely noticeable—when he'd look at me and I'd catch this sadness in his eyes. Like he was haunted by something. Or maybe... regretting something?

My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and couldn't help but laugh. His ridiculous picture popped up—the one I'd sneakily taken when he was eating that green soup the other day. Molokhia. I still couldn't get over his face when he realized I'd made that photo his contact picture.

I answered the call, trying to suppress another laugh.

"Hi there," I said, keeping my voice casual.

"Don't tell me you really made that photo my contact picture," Ryan's voice came through the line, and I could hear the exasperation mixed with amusement. "I heard that chuckle!"

"I told you I would," I said sweetly. "Didn't I?"

"I swear, I'll never win when it comes to you and your stubbornness," he sighed dramatically. "Whatever I do or say, you won't change your mind, will you?"

"You finally get it," I teased. "Better stop trying."

"I give up! Anyway, I want to hang out with you today. Think of a place—make sure there's food involved because I'm now officially addicted to Egyptian cuisine," he added with a chuckle. "But please, no embarrassing situations this time."

"Well, funny thing," I began, "I actually have plans with the girls today. We're heading to this food competition and then having a picnic afterward."

"Food competition?" He perked up immediately. "Count me in! I'm going to crush it."

"Hold up," I warned him, "it's a team competition. Don't get too cocky, chef. You're not up against Michelin-star restaurants; you're up against... me."

"Miss Perfect and The Billionaire, huh?" he said smugly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's our story title! How do you not see it? Come on, it's poetic."

"Please stop," I groaned. "I don't like men doing that whole pleading and pouting thing. It's not your style. You'll just look... ugh... cute or something."

"Oh, so I'm cute now?" he teased, and I could practically hear the grin in his voice. "I have this effect on women, you know. It's distracting."

I rolled my eyes so hard I might've sprained something and hung up.