23 | The Choice

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One Month Later

Things settled to somewhat normal.

Their normal means spending their weekdays working and hanging out during the weekends either at Ryan's loft or Shay's apartment. Shay prefers to spend more time at his place.

When they are at her apartment, there's always a silent distance between them no matter how close they are. Ryan seems to be colder than the ice in her freezer. However, at his loft, they spend the afternoons watching movies, eating takeout food from their favorite deli, or making out, which they seem to do a lot, but it never proceeds any further. Things between them are at a less physical stage. It only makes Shay more attracted to him.

There's an invisible line between their physical affection and committing to each other completely. And Shay knows why that is. She knows it's because of her still trying to figure out her feelings towards him. She knows her attraction to Ryan is more than his physical traits, but it has been so long since someone showed her such affection that she needs time to fully accept it.

This morning when she wakes up, her heart feels lighter, and her mind is brimming with fresh ideas. So, she decides to do some baking. It's been so long she baked something. It's been years. A shiver runs down her spine as she extracts the flour from the kitchen cabinet. Her vision blurs with the flashing images of the day she lost Aarav. That was the last time she baked, for him or anyone. She holds the counter with both hands and takes deep, relaxing breaths, knowing it will take her a while to push those images back.

Thirty minutes into the process, she is still standing in the kitchen. The flour box is still closed as she waits to gather her courage. God, why can't she forget everything? Why can't she let go of the memories?

"Oh, fuck it!" She curses and finally opens the lid with trembling fingers. Her heart beats in her chest as she manages to take out the flour without dumping the whole thing on the ground.

She's halfway whisking the butter and the sugar when Ryan knocks on her door before entering, even though he knows the passcode. He's the only other person apart from her parents who knows the passcode of her apartment.

"What are we celebrating today?" Ryan's deep voice echoes through the soft clunking sound of the hand-held whisk.

Shay spins around to find him leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed and brow raised. There's a big gift box with a cute satin bow on top of the island. Her eyes move from the box to his face, which says, Yes, I came bearing gifts. What's in there? She wonders.

Today, Ryan is wearing light-colored denim and a white casual shirt. The material fits him so well that her gaze is drawn to it, to the way it molds to his broad torso. He's so insanely, incredibly sexy that it takes a great deal of effort to look away.

Shay wishes she'd not been standing there in her cutouts and crop top. It's both too simple and too small. That's what he does to her. He makes her feel so confused about everything. One moment she wishes to expose every hidden secret of hers, both emotionally and physically, and the very next moment, she becomes nervous about his reaction to it.

Ryan glances at her, then to the splattered flour on the counter, the half whisked cream, and then back to her again. She feels him watching her, and her heartbeat ricochets in her chest. As she turns around to face him, they start the dance again.

With his chin tilted to the side and hands resting on the island, his gaze roams along her bare legs, traces the dips of her hips, pauses at her chest. The action does things to her body, her spine straightens, and her pulse picks up the pace. The rush of his breath shows he likes what she is wearing and what his gaze does to her.

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