Blurred Lies (The Blurred Series Book 1) (4 page)

I wake in the morning with a start. Loud music is filling the apartment with a pounding bass line I can feel in my bones.

Ugh!
 

I can tell that it’s early - too darn early - before I glance at my alarm clock, which reads 7:39am. I didn’t fall asleep until around 3:00am, and I need at least seven hours of rest to function properly. My eyes are sore from the tears I shed before sleep claimed me, and I can feel a headache coming on from the dehydration it’s caused.

Mumbling a curse to myself, I pull off the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed. After wiping the sleep from my puffy eyes, I get up, pull on my fluffy mukluk slippers and put my hair in a messy bun to tame the bird’s nest I’m sure it is right now.

Pulling my bedroom door open, harder than necessary, The Killers’
Smile Like You Mean It
smacks me in the face, metaphorically speaking.

How apt
. 

I don’t care how good the song is, this is just too darn loud, especially for this time of day.

I walk briskly down the hallway with my hands fisted at my sides, wanting to scream at someone, not thinking of who the culprit might be.

Ryan
. Of course it’s that asshole. My brother would never do anything this inconsiderate.

I prepare to yell over the deafening beats coming from every direction, when the vision in front of me stops me in my tracks: Ryan is wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts that sit so deliciously low I can see the dimples in his lower back.

Lickable.

I notice his back features a huge tattoo that covers almost all of his shoulder-blades. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but it looks cool and sexy as hell. I realize I definitely like tattoos on a guy. You really do learn something new every day.

He appears to be in front of the stove cooking something, and he hasn’t noticed my presence yet. He’s half dancing, half stirring something, and singing while he does it. The boy has rhythm. It’s so completely sexy and adorable at the same time, that I can feel the anger leaving me and my fists unclenching the longer I stand and watch him. I can feel a small smile tug at my lips, and decide I’m not mad anymore. I’d be pretty happy to wake up to this image every day.

Huh?

I figure the music is so loud that it will disguise my approach, so I creep over to the breakfast bar and quietly pull out a stool to perch on. I figure I can make myself comfortable and enjoy the show until he turns around, which I hope isn’t for a very long time.

As I sit here dreamily, with my elbow on the counter and my chin perched on my hand, staring at Ryan’s muscled shoulders, back and ass, simultaneously (I’m a girl, I can multitask), I suddenly realize what I’m doing. What exactly do I think is going to happen when he realizes I’ve just been sitting here staring at him as he makes breakfast?
Idiot
.

He’ll tease and make fun of me, or he’ll just glare. Either way I’ll feel uncomfortable and stupid. 

I quickly look around, wondering how best to make my escape, when a plate of pancakes smothered in syrup lands in front of me on the breakfast bar, along with a fork and cup of creamy coffee. The music volume eases down to a more reasonable level, and with that I see Ryan right there, stereo remote in-hand.

“Breakfast and a show. Strong coffee, no sugar, extra milk,” Ryan says in a singsong voice with a smirk on his face and a wink.

I really wish he’d quit smirking and winking at me! It’s...disconcerting.

He made me pancakes? How did he even know I was here? How did he know how I like my coffee?

“Uh, th-thanks. Thank you. Sorry.” I look down at my hands in my lap, feeling nervous and embarrassed, and fiddle with the drawstring of my shorts. I’m sure my cheeks are now the color of ripe tomatoes. I can’t look at him; he knows I’ve been watching him. He must have known I was ogling him this whole time if he made me breakfast. This is beyond mortifying. This will give him ammo for weeks, maybe even months.

Just perfect.

“Hey, not a problem,” he says, tipping my chin with a gentle finger so I’ll meet his gaze. “It’s the least I can do after waking you with my loud music at the ass-crack of dawn. Sorry about that.” He gives me a half-smile whilst biting the silver hoop in his lower-lip, and then moves back to the stove.

I’d like to bite his lower lip. I wonder what a lip-ring feels like? I wonder what his lips taste like?

Whoa, where’d that inappropriateness come from?

He returns with a plate of eggs and bacon and a cup of black coffee, for himself, and promptly sits right next to me.
Cozy
. 

The knot, which seems to have taken up permanent residence in my stomach, tightens exponentially. I don’t know how I’m going to eat this breakfast with him sitting right there. I’d feel bad if I don’t eat it. It’s an incredibly sweet gesture for him to make me breakfast to apologize. It’s so unlike the boy I remember. Maybe he really has changed. I like this new, improved Ryan, a lot.

“So, what are your plans for today?” Ryan asks after his first bite of bacon, giving me a sideways glance.

“Um...well, I was probably just going to see if there were any writing jobs online and try and earn a little money to contribute around here. Why?” I sound totally bemused, not understanding Ryan’s new-found interest in my daily activities.

“That’s cool. Though you know we’ve got you, right? There’s no need to contribute anything. At least not right away, so don’t sweat it.” He sounds so genuine and it’s hard to hide my surprise. I expect this from my brother, but never in a million years did I expect Ryan to act this way. I thought I’d be a burden to him and he’d hate every minute he had to spend in my presence. This is the polar opposite of what I expected when I arrived yesterday. Luckily I don’t need to mask my shock as Ryan is now one-hundred percent focused on his plate of food.

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you, but I’d feel guilty if I mooched off of you guys, regardless of the situation. Plus I need to occupy my mind with something or I’ll go a little crazy,” I mumble the last part with a faint chuckle. Though it’s no laughing matter; if I don’t have something other than my thoughts to focus on, I really think insanity could be in my very-near future. 

I take a bite of the delicious pancakes, hoping I can swallow them past the lump that’s formed in my throat.

“Well, if you have some spare time, I could use some help with a job of my own,” he says, picking up his mug of steamy coffee and taking a long gulp. The move causes his exposed, tattooed bicep to flex, and my eyes wander unbidden from his muscled arm to his Adam’s apple, as it bobs whilst swallowing the hot liquid. 

I suddenly realize I’m staring inappropriately and snap my focus back to my own mug, grabbing it hastily and taking a long sip. 

What did he say again? Oh right, a job. “What kind of job?” I manage to squeak out after placing my cup down with a shaky hand. I quickly move back to nibbling on my pancakes, hoping this job entails Ryan being fully clothed, or I could be in serious trouble.

“Well, I’m designing a website for a client, but it’s pretty darn girly, both in appearance and content. I could really use a woman’s opinion, if you’re up for it?”

Now it’s starting to make sense. I forgot Ryan studied something computer-based in college. This explains why he spends so much time in his room. He must be working on projects for various clients. I guess this means he works from home, which means I’ll probably be seeing a lot of him. I can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing right now.

I ponder his request for a moment whilst trying to swallow down another mouthful of syrupy pancake. 

How much time would I need to spend with Ryan...in his bedroom? Can I handle spending a significant amount of time in Ryan’s presence...in his bedroom? Does he have two chairs in there, or would I be sitting on his bed? Does it matter if I have to sit on his bed?
Yes. 

Ugh, what is wrong with my brain? Why am I pondering where I may be sitting, and so what if it’s on the stupid bed! He’ll probably just need five minutes of my time, tops.

“Y-yeah, of course. I mean, I don’t know how much help I’d be, but I can certainly give it a shot.” I give Ryan a sideways glance and blush when I see he’s finished with his food and is now just sitting facing me with his arms crossed and a cute grin on his face. I blush and quickly avert my gaze back to my half-eaten pancakes, smiling a little myself.

“Cool. Are you done with your food already? You look like you’re struggling,” he asks, getting up and grabbing his plate and cup from the breakfast bar. He doesn’t move; just stands there waiting for my response. I don’t know what to say without making me seem ungrateful.

“Uh, Yeah. It’s really delicious, I just don’t have a huge appetite in the mornings. Thank you so much, though. I really appreciate it.” I smile up at Ryan in hopes he’ll believe the appetite thing, and not see it’s really because of all the nervous energy buzzing through me in his presence.

“Not a problem and you’re welcome. I’ll know not to make so many next time. I remember you having a much larger appetite in the mornings, back in the day.” He smirks at me as he maneuvers his empty plate to his forearm so he can scoop mine up and carry it all to the sink in one trip. I feel embarrassed and a little bit pissed off that he’s remembering my chubbier phase. I guess he hasn’t changed as much as I’d hoped.

I quickly stand from the breakfast bar, feeling the irritation simmering in my veins, “I’m not an awkward, chubby preteen girl anymore, Ryan.”
Whoa.
That sounded a bit more hostile than I’d intended. I guess I actually am still angry at him for waking me up.

Yeah, that’s what it is.

Ryan dumps the dishes in the sink and spins with his hands up in surrender. “Okay, Natty, I wasn’t insinuating anything. I know you’re not, believe me,” he states, leaning against the counter with a grin on his face, crossing his arms and appraising my body from across the kitchen. 

I’m suddenly very conscious of what I’m wearing and what I must look like this morning.

Not hot.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I demand weakly, averting my gaze away from his and crossing my arms to cover some of my embarrassing attire. I really wasn’t thinking properly when I stormed out here this morning. This is where hotheadedness will get you.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Just stop staring. I know I look a hot-mess right now,” I plead, my hostility now replaced with embarrassment.

“Actually, I was thinking you look hot as hell. Not a hot-mess. Just hot,” Ryan states with intensity in his eyes. How on earth do I respond to that? He must be kidding; making fun of me. His own private joke.

“Okay. S-stop making fun of me, Ryan. We’re a little old for that now, don’t you think?” I say as I put my hands on my hips, feeling unusually defensive, and...brave.
Go me.

“I am in no way making fun of you, Natalie,” he says, holding my gaze and moving to lean with his hands on the breakfast bar across from me. The way he says my name sends a shiver through my entire body.

“I-I’m wearing pajamas and my hair looks like a haystack, so you’re obviously not being serious,” I state matter-of-factly.

Now Ryan is the one who seems irritated, “Actually, you’re wearing the shortest fucking shorts I’ve ever seen, which are exposing your smooth legs, a practically non-existent top with no bra, and you’ve got bed hair...or just-fucked hair, if you want the crude version, which is more my style.”

Wait, what?
“Uh, what?”

“Oh, and let’s not forget the fluffy little boot slipper things. They just add something extra to the whole ensemble. I’m going to call them your ‘fuck me’ slippers.” Now he’s smirking and giving me a look that’s making my skin feel hot and tingly.

“What!?” I almost screech at him, snapping out of my stupor. I don’t even know what just happened. “They are not...that! They’re just mukluks. What’s wrong with mukluks?” Okay, my voice has now gone to an octave I didn’t even know existed.

“Just proving how very serious I am about you looking hot, Natalie. You could have just believed me, but you pushed, and the whole truth came out. I’m sorry, but I struggle with the whole brain-to-mouth filter thing. I wasn’t trying to be offensive to you.”

I can’t help but burst into laughter at that. This is the most ludicrous conversation I’ve ever had. If I believe what he just said, he’s basically telling me he’s attracted to me...in pajamas and a messy bun...and let’s not forget the slippers that I’ll never be able to look at in the same way again. This is ridiculous; guys like him aren’t attracted to girls like me.

Ryan laughs a little, too, and flashes me a megawatt smile. I can’t stay mad at this guy.

No change there.

“I’m not offended. I mean, you are basically telling me I’m a-attractive, and you’re the only guy who’s ever put it in so many words, so...I can’t really be mad at the word choice, I guess.” I shrug and go back to fiddling nervously with the drawstring of my shorts, which are apparently too short for Ryan’s liking, or not too short...his little rant has me a bit confused, if I’m honest.