Practice makes perfect, and when you're fighting to be the best in your sport that is especially true. Ryder and Francesca are no exception. They are dedicated to their sport and refuse to let anything distracted. But when a scheduling conflict forc...
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My brain actually short circuits the second Ryders lips touch mine. I am not even sure I am breathing at this point because the only thing I can think about is him. This is the most all consuming kiss I have ever experienced; that not even my Ryder filled wet dreams could have prepared me for.
I adjust on his lap a little, to deepen the kiss. It is slow but not in a bad way. The best way to describe it is like when you're laying in the dark after a really good day and the world seems right. The initial buzz of the day has worn off but you have this feeling of complete peace as you lay there, that is what this is.
Ryder's hand snakes up my neck and firmly holds me in place so I can't break the kiss even if I wanted to. I guess he isn't just possessive on the ice, definitely not complaining about that.
As his tongue runs along my bottom lip I open my mouth and he wastes no time with the new opportunity presented. I follow along with the same slow pace, taking in everything and committing it to memory. I even open my eyes for a moment just to see how he looks. I want to be able to replay this in vivid detail for the rest of my life.
When we finally break apart both of us take a few deep breaths trying to fill our lungs with air. Ryder is still looking at me, watching me carefully. "I'm not dreaming, am I?" he asks as his thumb caresses my cheek.
"Is this what your dreams are filled with Ry," I tease, as my already wild pulse speeds up more.
"My dreams have been filled with you for so long Beck, I don't remember what it's like to go to sleep and not see your face."
Normally I would tease him. Call him corny or cheesy or some other insult but the sincerity in his eyes has me speechless. Instead I take his face between my hands and give him a soft peck on the lips. They are soft and slightly swollen from our first kiss.
Our first kiss. Ours. Us. Fran and Ryder. Fryder.
"I am sorry," he says, looking off sadly.
"Don't be. We both clearly need to take a class in communication. I was so stunned when I left the hospital I didn't even think to consider how you'd feel when I didn't say it back. I should have known that you saying it was scary and not something you've ever done before and been more considerate of that."
"My feelings aren't your responsibility," he argues. "I shouldn't have assumed the worst. I should have been an adult and talked about it instead of doing what I did."
"Your feelings are my responsibility," I counter. "That's part of loving someone, being considerate of their feelings."
"Love is complicated," he mumbles as I turn his face so he is once again looking at me.
"You said that a few weeks ago about eating hard tacos without the shell breaking," I tease and he laughs with me at the memory.
"They are complicated! The first bite the whole bottom falls out and then you have to squeeze it to keep the taco shit in the shells and then the meat juice leaks down your hand."
