Despite how much every part of me is screaming to confront him about the past, I didn't. It is becoming harder and harder to work beside him and not want to club the back of his head.
And never mind the confusing feelings he causes inside me every time he is near.
I rein in my rage. Took a deep breath and exhaled, all the while trying not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze as he waited for an answer from me.
In response to his intrusive question, I made a show of looking at my watch. "Wow! Look at the time. It is getting late," I say dramatically to lighten the mood because it has gotten a little hot.
In retaliation for what is obviously an attempt at deflection on my part, Ryan rolls his eyes—an unexpected reaction from someone so masculine, but cute.
No, scratch that. Not cute. I can't be thinking like this.
"I get it. I should butt out of your private business," he says with a light humor, a smile coloring his lips.
"You are so smart." I tease, smiling back at him. I go to walk away, but I'm pulled back, and suddenly my back hits his car, and his tall frame towers over me, so close that only a breath separates us.
My heart jumped to my throat, and when I lifted my eyes to his, the look in his eyes had my pulse racing and not in a good way.
Fear flooded my system.
"You are so beautiful," he whispers huskily, raising his hand to caress my cheek.
His voice, his actions, all reminded me of the past, and all I could see was my nightmare happening all over again.
I recoiled into myself, shutting down, shutting out the world. This can't be happening again, I thought to myself.
"Please, don't," I begged, my voice shaking. My whole body was shaking. I don't know what I would do if what happened seven years ago happened again.
I don't think I can survive it.
"Please let me go! I don't want to do this," I pleaded, tears running down my face.
"Hey, Lyra!"
I ignored him and kept my eyes tightly shut. I don't want to see it happen. Where is the damn police when you need them?
I could feel my body going numb, and my knees weakening.
"Hey, Lyra, please snap out of it," he prompts, his voice slightly raised and panicked. He also sounded confused, as if he didn't understand what was happening.
How can he not? He is about to force himself on me as he did several years ago, or did I read things wrong?
Slowly, I stopped panicking and snapped out of the past into the present, and that is when I realized something.
He is no longer holding me, nor is his presence suffocatingly close.
I opened my eyes to find him a few feet away from me, staring at me with confusion and worry in his eyes.
Had I misread things? Overreacted?
It seems likely, judging from his expression. I felt embarrassed; my face flushed red.
I avert my eyes to the floor, not sure I can take the questions in his eyes.
How do I explain my reaction? Because he surely has tons. I am sure he has never had a woman freak out the way I did at a mere touch.
"What was that all about?"
I couldn't answer. I didn't have the explanation he is looking for, at least not one I am willing to go into tonight.
His expression softens as he takes another step toward me, but this time he doesn't invade my privacy; he keeps a cautious distance between us.
"You know that I will never kiss you without your permission, right?" He looks insulted that I could ever think he could do such a hideous thing
So he had been going for just a kiss. Though it is laughable that he feels insulted at the mere insinuation that he would take what he wants by force when it was exactly what he did several years ago.
He really doesn't remember.
I don't know how to feel about his persistent amnesia. Actually, I do. I feel pissed. How dare he forget, when I live with the constant memory of what he did to me?
He lives in bliss, while I live in hell. I curled my fist at my side to keep from slugging him. Not because of the stunt he tried to pull this evening, but because he dared to forget.
"No, Lyra. Keep your cool. You will have your revenge," I tell myself. I uncurled my fist, relaxed my tensed body, and met his eyes head-on.
"I am sorry, I want to go home now," I say to him, my tone dull and closed off. I want to get out of his presence. Any place in the world is better than where he is.
He looks like he wanted to talk about what happened, but changed his mind at the last second.
"Of course," he says and opens the door for me.
We drove home in thick silence, and as soon as I got into my house, all I wanted to do was drink and drink until I couldn't feel the pain in my chest anymore.
I have been sober for a year now, but right now I crave a drink like a junkie craves his drugs. My whole body is shaking with pain and anxiety, and I will give anything to have a shot of whiskey right now; unfortunately, I don't have a single drop of alcohol in my apartment.
I felt as if I was itching all over my body, so I quickly shed my clothes and lay down on the cold wooden floor of my apartment and let my tears flow.
I wanted to call Daniel; he alone understands what I am going through, but I didn't want him to see me this weak. In the end, I chose to suffer through my distress alone.
I cried myself to sleep on my living room floor.
A week passed after the incident involving Ryan's car, and neither of us mentioned what happened or the near kiss.
Ryan stayed out of my way, and I stayed out of his way unless it was job-related. He kept everything between us professional, and when Melissa came around and noticed the distance between us, she seemed very pleased with the new development.
Which was a good thing because she stopped harassing me.
It is another late night for me, and I am about to leave when Ryan's door opens, and he walks out with his briefcase in his hand.
We haven't run into each other like this since the car incident, and I would say it's because Ryan went out of his way to make sure it didn't happen again.
"Hey!" He greets, his tone reserved. I greet him back in the same way and go to leave, but he stops me.
"Lyra, wait!"
I stop mid-stride and wait, without turning to face him.
"Please turn around."
His voice is soft, with no hint of command or authority.
I did, and found him directly behind me, but this time he didn't invade my private space like he did the other night, and I was grateful for it.
"I am sorry about the other day." He apologizes sincerely.
"I don't know what happened, but I want to reassure you that I am not a man who would force himself on a woman. I like you. I have felt that from the first moment I met you, but I can see the feelings are not mutual so that I will keep my distance. Nevertheless, I would still like us to be friendly with each other."
A few of his words got stuck in my head.
First, he likes me!
What!
This would certainly make my job easier, but inside, I am panicking because I know he is not alone in his feelings.
This side of him I totally like, and without the past casting shadows on our relationship, I would have wholeheartedly pursued this.
Speaking of the past. He would never force himself on a woman? He actually looks like he believes what he is saying.
I looked him directly in the eyes and asked. "Never?"
"Never what?" He looked at me, confused.
"Force yourself on a woman," I say through a clenched jaw.
The confusion in his eyes worsens. "Are you accusing me of something?"
I feel a surge of anxiety in my chest, and I clenched my fist to get through this conversation.
"Do you really not recognize me, Ryan?" I stared into his eyes, searching for any signs that he was trying to mask his real feelings or any spark of recognition, but there was none.
"Should I? The day you walked into my office was the first time I saw you."
I want to believe him, but I can never forget the face of the boy who raped me seven years ago, and it is the same face staring at me right now.
Maybe he had amnesia and couldn't remember. That would explain the change of personality.
"Never mind. I accept your apology. And thank you for saying sorry."