The next 10 days sucked. Ryan and I were locked in a fierce phone tag
battle, and each time I saw a missed call from him and tried to call him back,
only to get his voicemail, I grew more and more frustrated. Just a couple days before his return, he
called while I was at work. I answered
as soon as I could, but had just missed it.
When I called him right back, it went immediately to voicemail and I
slammed my phone down on my desk in frustration. The battery cover popped off, angry at my
mistreatment, and I sighed heavily.
Later that same day I got a text
from him that said, “Sorry we can’t seem
to connect. I’m so busy, but I miss you
and I can’t wait to get home and see you.”
I texted him back immediately that I missed him too and sent a
little inside joke we had. I hoped that
would prompt a response back, but heard nothing from him for the last two days
he was gone.
When I finally heard from him
again, it was a text in the middle of my workday on the Tuesday he got
back. It said, “I can’t wait to see you, is it too late to take you to lunch?” I had just gotten back from lunch and
told him so, to which he replied, “Then
will you come over after work? Cooking
isn’t going to happen tonight, but we can order something.” As frustrated as I was that I had barely
heard from him for almost two weeks, I was positively giddy at the idea of
seeing him tonight. “I’ll pick something up on my way,” I replied.
I was antsy for the rest of the
day. My boss came out to chat during a
rare lull late in the afternoon. We’d
been so busy the last couple weeks for some reason. I’d been working a lot of overtime, which was
not very typical for us in general. “So,
Ryan comes home this week, right?” she asked me, reaching to pluck a Reese’s
Peanut Butter Cup out of my candy dish.
“He’s home now,” I said. “He got home a couple hours ago.”
“Get out of here, then,” she told
me. “Go see him.”
“But…” I protested
half-heartedly. I glanced at the
clock. It was only 3:30, I had another
two hours left of my day.
“But nothing,” she replied. “I’ve been watching you stare at the clock
since lunch, and you’ve been working a ton the last couple weeks. Go.
Now, before I change my mind!”
She didn’t have to tell me
again. I grabbed my purse, thanked her,
and booked it out of there. You know,
before she changed her mind. On my way
out, I texted Ryan that I was out of work early and asked when he wanted me to
come over. He didn’t respond, so I went
home to get ready.
I packed a bag with clothes and
makeup for the next day and checked my phone.
No response from Ryan yet. I
figured he was probably sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him up, so I sat
down and flipped on the TV, deciding I’d wait for awhile.
I made it about 40 minutes before I
couldn’t wait any more. On the way, I
stopped and picked up food. When I got
to Ryan’s house, I knocked, but no one answered. I knocked again, and tried calling him. Nothing.
I tried the door, and it was unlocked.
I put our food in the kitchen and quietly headed upstairs.
His bedroom door was open slightly
and through the crack I could see him, half under the blankets, sleeping
peacefully. Without a sound, I quickly
slipped my clothes off and climbed into bed with him. He woke up right away, confused and
disoriented. “Mmmph,” he grunted. “I set my alarm.”
“I’m early,” I said softly. “I got out of work early. I tried to call, but then I just headed
over. I hope it’s okay.”
“More than okay,” he mumbled
sleepily, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him. “Give me a minute and I can get up.”
“No,” I said. “Let’s not.”
He nodded and I pressed myself against him, tucking my head under his
chin and threading one of my legs between his.
“I missed you,” I said, suddenly feeling emotional. “I didn’t think it would be that hard.”
Ryan didn’t say anything for
several seconds, and then he said, “I missed you, too, Jenna. I tried to call, I’m sorry. I was just so busy, and with the time
difference, the times that I wasn’t busy were when you were at work or
asleep.” I didn’t say anything, just
pressed my face harder into his collarbone.
“Jenna?” Ryan prodded gently.
“It felt like you forgot about me,”
I said honestly. I knew how ridiculous
the words sounded, but I wasn’t accusing him.
I was just telling him the truth.
He untangled himself from me and
moved until we made eye contact. “I
thought about you every day,” he said firmly.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”
“I know,” I said, and I believed
him. “I just…I didn’t think it would be
that hard. I don’t even know what we
are.”
He elected to not say anything
about my last statement, which was probably a good choice. That was a conversation that needed to be
had, but not at this moment. Instead, he
moved closer and kissed me. I kissed him
back, desperate to feel connected to him again after not seeing or talking to
him in almost two weeks. One of his
hands ran all the way down my back and cupped my ass before bending my leg so
my knee pointed up. He slipped his hand
between my legs and stroked gently, making me gasp and arch against him.
We didn’t really bother with
foreplay. Ryan pulled one of my legs up
and over his and pushed into me. I
wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest as he thrust slowly,
grinding his pelvis into mine at the deepest part of each thrust. I was a moaning, writhing, gasping mess by
the time I came, shaking against him. He
only made it a few more seconds before he finished. We laid there still tangled
together, unmoving, for several minutes before I slowly untangled myself and
rolled onto my back.
Our food forgotten, we laid in his
bed for the rest of the evening. A
couple hours after I’d arrived, Ryan rolled onto his side and propped his head
up. “I don’t want you to think I’m
ignoring what you said about not knowing what we are. Whenever you want to have that conversation,
you let me know, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. Despite my frustrated exclamation earlier, I
wasn’t ready. Ryan didn’t push and I
changed the subject, comfortable with where things were and grateful that Ryan
wasn’t in a rush to change that.