DAMN YOUR KISS; ryden

Chapter Eight: Became As Mad As Rabbits

The tip of the cigarette glowed red, and the smoke curled up in a fine trail as Z took a long, heavy drag, her lips doing that little turn-up they did. She smiled at Ryan once more, serenely, as she blew a thick, beautiful plume of grey wisps from her mouth, and flicked the ash away. “I’m really happy for you, Ryan. Really happy.” She sipped delicately from the paper coffee cup clutched in her other hand.

Ryan honestly didn’t know how she could taste anything after she’d smoked, even the strong bitterness of coffee. Smoke dulled his tastebuds, he found. But it worked for Z. Her lips, when he had kissed her that morning in pure joy, grabbing the side of her face and planting a big old smacker right on the pecker, tasted of ash, coffee and niceness. She really had been one of the nicest girlfriends he’d ever had. And he was sure if he didn’t feel what he felt for Brendon …. Well Z and him would work out somehow.

“I’m happy for me, too.” Ryan couldn’t help saying it. He ran a hand through his hair, which, he had decided that morning, he was going to grow out. “I mean,” he chewed on his lip. “For what happened. I’m glad it happened.”

Z chuckled, taking one more drag, before arching her leg up behind her, and crushing her cigarette out on the point of her heel. She clapped her other hand on his shoulder, partly to keep her balance, partly in a friendly way. “I know what you mean, Ry.”

It was funny. Funny, that the girl he’d once been in a relationship, one of the people he’d ever been closest to in his life, both as a friend, and then intimately, was giving him her input on a kiss with the man he was attracted to. Z had always been able to tell. She’d said that in fact ‘your heart’s been stuck on that boy ever since you first laid eyes on him, Ross’. She’d been the one to eventually convince him to go to the studio, to see him, to go with his instincts. “If your instincts tell you to hug him, hug him. If they tell you apologise, apologise. And if they tell you to screw his brains out, as long as it’s not unconsented, sweetie, go for it.”

When she straightened up, and was done giving him a one-armed hug, she brushed her hands down the front of her already-flawless pink babydoll dress, smoothed her smooth as silk hair down, and held the crook of her elbow out. “My boy needs some fancy pants lunch.”

Ryan slid his arm through hers, linking, and pulled her close, into him. She giggled, and held onto his lower arm with her other hand. To anyone watching, it probably would have looked like they were a couple. Maybe even a GBF/BBF situation to someone being more perceptive. It was so much more. “Your boy needs lunch.” Ryan said definitely.

They were walking along the street, the California sun not too stifling, but rather a nice, spring warmth, and Z’s heels clicked in a steady rhythm, along with the softer footing of Ryan. It was quiet between the two of them for the longest time, before Z spoke again. “So what did he say … after you two kissed, for the second time?”

Ryan cleared his throat. “He, uh … We didn’t just kiss, Z.”

Z halted suddenly, drawing to a sudden, abrupt stop, yanking Ryan back like a dog’s leash being tugged. Her eyes were wide and round. Well, wider and rounder than usual. And her lips were popped open. “You didn’t tell me that, Ry!”

Ryan blushed, and shook his head. Z’s cheeks flushed pink and she giggled again. “Oh, my, you naughty boy.” She clapped one hand to her mouth. “That’s a pretty big thing to forget to mention.”

“Well,” Ryan grinned. “I don’t like to kiss and tell. Or, um, fuck and tell.”

Z leant her head into the crook of his neck, and her hair ticked his throat. “Let’s eat. And then you can tell me every little sordid detail right down to the last button sock pulled off.”

Ryan kissed the top of her head. “Let’s.”