92. I Feel so Shy

“Come down.. I am waiting for you.” Ryan whispers huskily, before hanging up the call.
Though he said softly, it feels like an order. A malicious command, that my body feels compelled to follow.
*Fuck it!*
I toss my phone on to the bed and pace around my room panickingly. Sweat runs down my neck, while my mind runs everywhere and anywhere.
*Why did he come back?*
*And why the fuck he wants to meet me?*
A part of my mind already knows the sinister intentions lurking behind his return, yet I don’t want to accept it.
Walking to the cupboard, I pull out a small cutter blade and hide it in my palm.
One thing I learned from watching Euphoria: If you are going to face the bad guy, go prepared.
With unsteady steps, I climb down my dad’s castle to go meet the evil prince outside.
“Where are you off to? You just came.” My father questions me, pausing his Barbie movie on Netflix.
My feet halts on the spot, and so does my breath as his scrutinizing cop eyes lock onto me.
“Um.. Ana came to meet me. She is outside.” I tell him awkwardly, hiding the cutter in my fist.
“Why didn’t you call her in?” He asks me with questioning brows.
“I did, but she said she is only here for a few minutes.” I reply hastily.
“Alright, be back soon.” He nods, granting me permission to walk out.
I force a smile, gulping the guilt trip which is crawling up my throat. I hate lying to my parents, especially for a motherfucker like him.
I spot the black SUV parked a few houses away. I take a deep, shaky breath, before walking towards the car.
My stomach churns in fear as I see the devil’s trident proudly erected on the bonnet, sending nostalgic shivers down my spine.
It feels like I am transported back to three years ago, when he took me in his car and touched me with his sultry hands in places where even sunlight had not touched me.
Black tinted windows cloak the vehicle from all sides, unable for me to see him. But I know, he can clearly see me.
Walking up to the passenger side, the door swings open and with trembling legs, I get inside the ominous car.
I close the door after sliding in and finally face the devil beside me.
Ryan Damison.
The worst nightmare of my life, is now alive and sitting beside me in all his flesh and bones.
My nose hits with the nostalgic scent of leather and smoke, taking me back to the time I last met him in his car.
It feels like an episode of history repeating itself, without any background music.
Soft glow of blue light falls on his majestic face, highlighting his imperial features- Bushy brows, a sharp nose, full lips and chiseled jawline sculpted from the same stone as Roman deities.
It almost hurts to even look at his godly face.
Ryan tilts his head. His eyes crawl over the peach frock I am wearing, and lingers for a while on the exposed skin of my thighs where the dress ends.
“You got thick.” A smile curve his sinful lips, and he lightly licks them.
I just glare back at him, showing no effect of him on me, not even a fake smile.
“How many years has it been?” He asks, bring his two thick fingers up to his jaw and lightly scratching it.
“Two?”
“Three.” I correct him.
“Three years! Wow!” Ryan breathes out, leaning back against the headrest.
I feel an unknown tightness in my chest. It fucking hurts in chest to see how handsome he looks in his black Tommy shirt and navy blue jeans.
His skin glows flawlessly, with zero pimples and spots. He looks just like he was before, not an inch different.
They say true: *Plastic does not age.*
Yet, I was hoping he would be less attractive by now, or at least on his way to obesity.
*But he looks beautiful as fuck!*
“Do you remember how we used to fool around your house and in college?” A mischievous smirk plays on his lips, denting his sweet dimples.
“No. But I remember how you left without a word, and never cared to contact me back.” I reply with a straight face.
“Amara..” His voice deeper than my depression.
I clench my fist, hearing that name again. He doesn’t even know how to spell it, even after three years.
Whiskey brown eyes find mine, and they appear darker, almost black as he says, “You know how bad the situation had gotten.”
“Not worse enough to text me.” I grit out every word from my sliced heart.
“Amara!” He places his hand on my knee and my skin freezes under his touch.
Heat from his hand spreads through my body, and my breathing quickens, remembering where else his hands have been and how lewdly he has touched me.
“The police were involved, and I was one of the prime suspects in the drug case. And you already know my family’s reputation, I had no choice but to disappear.” Ryan explains to me.
I slide his hand away from my knee and spit furiously, “At least you could have informed me once that you were leaving, especially after sleeping with me that night.”
My throat clogs as buried feelings try to flood out of me expeditiously, taking my senses along with its intensity.
“You never called me, or texted to know how I was doing after you left. Hell, you didn’t even tell me you were going, and I cried every night like a foolish girl, hoping to hear from you again, because I was missing you so much.” I yell at him with wet tears.
One by one tears rush down my cheeks, seeping out of the cuts and soaking me in the pain I tried to bandage three years ago.
“Hey..” Ryan raises his fingers, and softly grazes my wet cheeks. “I didn’t know you would miss me this much, otherwise, I would have told you that I’ll be leaving for Germany soon.”
I feel a clench in my chest, resulting in physical pain.
“Lies! I messaged, even DMed you so many times, if you had liked me even a little bit, you would have replied and told me the truth. But it’s clear now, you never really cared about me.” I slap his hand away angrily from my face, while I drown in my pool of tears.
*I don’t want his fake caress!*
“That’s not true. I cared.” Ryan retorts, his jaw flexes.