39. Ryan

Chapter 39

Ryan

Cameron moved out in early June, and though I should have seen it coming, it was still a shock. It’s been real quiet around here ever since, and as nice as it would be to split the rent, I don’t have the time, energy, or motivation to hunt for another roommate.

I’m almost certain I’d never find another one like him, even if I think he’s a dick for falling in love with my sister and ditching me for her.

There isn’t much time to dwell on it while I’m working long days on a new sci-fi series. It’s been a few years since I worked on this genre, and I enjoy the technical challenge, but my whole life feels like it's spent working, eating, sleeping, and trying to catch Kayla whenever I can. One more month and I’ll be able to find some time for myself again.

“You missing Cam?” she asks, her phone propped up on her kitchen counter while she gets ready for a day of work.

“Missing you more,” I tell her, and she pokes her tongue out at the camera. The topic of us as a couple is strictly off-limits, another unspoken rule I’m doing my best to uphold. Ever since she flew out to see me, our conversations are light and playful, with a sprinkling of filth if we find a convenient time.

“You should visit him when this production wraps, have a few days at home. You haven’t taken a break all year.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss Climbing Mountains Seven Days A Week.”

“That’s my business, Ryan, and my job doesn’t feel like work, so it’s fine.”

There was a time where mine didn’t feel like work either. When I was fresh-faced in Hollywood and hungry for all the experience I could get. Most people don’t think about the work that goes into making a film or TV show sound good, but I loved being part of a team that makes all it come together. I still get a thrill seeing the final cut and my name in credits, but now I’m approaching my thirties with a backache from sitting at a desk in a dark room most days.

“Where are you trekking today?”

“Up to The Marmot. We’ll stop there for an early lunch, then carry on to the peak.”

We spent a couple of summers in the chalet when we were kids, but I’ve never seen the peaks at this time of year. Not the way Kayla has.

Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the dated cream popcorn ceiling of my tiny apartment. The walls are the same colour and they feel like they’re closing in on me. There’s no life in this place. No personality. No Kayla.

Wishing she was here is pointless. She hated it.

“I wish I was coming with you.”

“Well, what if you…” she trails off, and I see her shake away the thought while adding protein bars to her day pack.

“What if I what?”

“I was thinking if you do go visit Hannah and Cameron, maybe you could fly out here for a couple of days. See what summer in the Alps has to offer.”

The only thing I’d want to see is you.

“Are you asking me to visit?” I tease .

When she flew back last month, we said goodbye as if it would be another six months before I saw her again. She doesn’t think we can make this work, but I haven’t given up hope yet.

“You don’t need my invitation or permission. I’m sure your parents would let you stay at their house.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t get to stay with you?”

“No way, you’ll be too much of a distraction.”

“But our house is booked out all summer,” I protest.

“Oh, well,” she shrugs. “Hotel it is.”

“So what, I’d have to sneak into your apartment like I used to at the chalet?”

Kayla’s family chalet has two balconies running the length of the house, one across the first floor where the living areas are, another on the top floor where patio doors open out from the back bedrooms. Steps up the side of the house give access to the middle and upper floors, and when we were younger, we were always sneaking in and out of her house this way.

Once I misjudged it, and when her dad flicked on his bedroom lights, I had to see him naked, then drop to the floor and crawl the rest of the way to her room.

“Mm-hm,” she sighs, lost in her own memories. “And maybe you’ll wear a mask this time?”

The idea of it makes me burst out laughing. “A mask?”

“Yeah, like a ski mask or a hockey mask. Ooh! Or the one from Scream!”

“What the fuck? You sicko.”

“Dude, don’t yuck my yum. I think it’s pretty hot,” she says, swiping a smear of lip-gloss on in her hallway mirror. “A sexy intruder, but one you know isn’t going to murder you while you sleep. We could tussle a little, but I’d let you win in the end. ”

“Did you get this idea from a book?” I ask, and I can imagine how warm her laugh would feel against my cheek if we were having this conversation in person.

“Maybe. Like you wouldn’t be into slipping between my bedsheets and waking me up with your boner.”

My cock pulses at the thought of it. It’s pretty kinky, but Kayla and I will give most stuff a try, and we didn’t have time to do any kind of roleplay when she was here. I slip my hand into my boxer briefs and stroke it gently, feeling it thicken in my hand.

Kayla’s put plenty of ideas from her romance books on her bedroom wishlists in the past. We’re no strangers to rough sex, and we’ve had a lot of fun taking turns to be in control. If she wants me to sneak into her bedroom, who am I to object? I’m so far gone for this girl, I’d do basically anything she asked for at this point.

“Only if you let me cover your mouth.”

“Mmmm. Shame there’s no way of doing that at my apartment,” Kayla says, then throws her head back and groans loudly. “Stop making me horny. I’m trying to go to work.”

“You stop making me horny. I was trying to sleep before you called.”

“Bullshit,” she says, slipping her coat on and unlocking the door to her apartment. “Your dick is already in your hand and if you tell me it’s not, you’re a huge liar.”