Distant Hearts

A Chat

He's the last person you expected to see at your door at 8:30 in the evening on a Thursday night, but you don't refuse him. Instead, you shuffle your slippered feet back into the small foyer and wait to close the door as he enters your sorry excuse for an apartment. But you love this apartment. It's yours and comfy and quaint. Your eyes try to avoid his by looking at the mess on the kitchen table and in the kitchen itself, but it doesn't work, you're still distracted by him being here.

He stops short of the main living room, which thankfully is half blocked behind a wall, waiting for you to show him all the way in, you guess. You now want to ask him the million questions running through your mind, unlike two weeks prior where he, Kirsten, Summer and Seth had to practically beg you to tell them a story about Mark and Addy, who you had no doubt in your mind that they were pressed against the opposite side of the wall in your kitchen with an empty jar or glass next to their ears, wanting to hear something from the mystery visitor that you've never really told them about, just hinted around.

Ignoring the urge to go and bang the spot you had recently discovered for getting your point across, you show him all the way in. And in turn, try to make your place presentable as you walk, silently scolding yourself for not doing it yesterday liked you planned on. But it's a lost cause, even you know that. Bypassing the living room, you head into the kitchen and feel the need for coffee. Maybe it will get you to talk then. He leans up against the island counter and you feel hi gaze on you and you start to think how awkward this is starting out to be but don't know how to proceed, and from the lack of conversation, he doesn't either. Letting the coffee brew behind you, you turn back and look at him again, this time with two mugs in your hand. He nods slightly as he adjusts himself on the stool and you place both to the side, silently waiting for the coffee. And then he breaks the silence.

The next thing you know you're beside him on the couch, coffee in hand and listening to him rant about how much he hates his boss. You don't blame him either. From the sound of it, his boss isn't the greatest and you start to make comparisons between both yours and his boss. You don't mind him ranting, in fact, you like it. You like hearing him complain a bit and think that maybe he likes it too. Maybe he doesn't really have anyone to rant to. Still listening, you let your hair down from the messy ponytail you had since before he arrived and look at the clock on the wall. Your eyes meet his again and he asks you if he should go. And honestly, takes all you have in you not to tell him no.

But before you can answer, he does for you. He gently places his hand on your knee and even though he may not give a second thought to it, it sends a shiver up to your heart, making it beat ten times more rapidly than it was. He pulls on his light jacket at the foyer and looks back at you as he places his hand on the door. So, I guess I'll see you later, he says to you and before you can think it over in your mind and weigh the pros and cons, you tell him to come with you this weekend. You had told him earlier about your unusual family's celebration around the 4th of July. He steps forward slightly and looks straight into your eyes, the twinkle ever so slowly coming back and a smile itching to come out to play. You really want me there? You blush like you're still in high school and do the shy sort of smile, looking back up at him again. Yea, I want you there.

You missed this. Missed him, missed the 'us' of Ryan and Lindsay. Sure, you had had some boyfriends, if you could call them that, in between. But there was no other Ryan. Suddenly you're startled by him leaning in and kissing you on the cheek, sweetly, leaving you flushed and flattered and falling deeper all at the same time. And you weren't lying. You really did want him here.