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Jayden
Sunlight shines off the hood of my car, almost blinding me as I click my keys to unlock it. The college campus is bustling with students milling about, but my thoughts are already racing ahead to the night shift at Sand Dunes Bar & Grill. The hem of my yellow sundress flutters against my legs as I slide into the driver's seat, tossing my bag onto the passenger side.
The engine purrs to life, and I pull out of the parking lot towards home.
I'm thinking of the quick dinner I can whip up, maybe a salad with whatever veggies I have left in the fridge, when my phone rings with an incoming call.
"Hey, Mom," I answer, pressing the speaker icon to be hands free while keeping one hand steady on the wheel.
"Jayden, honey, how was class?"
"Good, good." I navigate a curve. "Just heading home to get ready for work."
"Ah, I see. Speaking of which..." she trails off. "Since you aren’t coming to church anymore, I know there’s nice young boys at school, but probably not so much at your work… My point is, honey, you should consider dating again. It's been a while since..."
I let out a sigh, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. This conversation is well-trodden ground, the same dance we've done since 'Rick the Prick' exited stage left from my life. But she's my mom, and I get that this comes from a place of love where she wants to see me happy and not alone.
"Mom, you know I'm swamped with classes and work," I deflect gently. "And honestly, I'm not sure I'm ready to jump back into that pool just yet."
"Jay, you're such a catch," she counters. "Any guy would be lucky to—"
"Mom," I interrupt, "Rick really set the bar high for terrible."
"Jayden, that boy—" she starts, but I cut in quick, not wanting to rehash the disaster that was Rick.
"Mom, he was 'Rick the Prick' for a reason," I say, letting out a chuckle.
"Honey, you can't let one bad apple spoil the—"
"Bucket. One bad apple spoils the whole bucket," I correct her. "I'm just... I'm not ready to go through that again. You know? The lying, the cheating—it's like a workout for my heart, and not the good kind."
"Jayden, I just worry about you," she murmurs.
"Mom," I say, softer this time, "I don't want another relationship like that. I really appreciate it, but right now, I'm doing okay. Really." There's a beat of silence, and I picture her nodding her acceptance of my words even if she doesn't believe them.
"Alright, honey. You deserve all the happiness in the world," she says, and I’m sure she’s smiling.
"Thanks, Mom. I gotta go, pulling into my apartment now," I say. "Love you."
"Love you too, Jayden."
I press the end call button a tad more forcefully than necessary and toss my phone onto the passenger seat. The crunch of gravel under my tires signals the turn into my apartment's parking lot.
I kill the engine. My hand hovers over the door handle. As if summoned by my thoughts of solitude, Ryder's image pops into my mind. He’s got this intense gaze with his ice blue eyes and his dark hair with a few silver streaks falls just so over his forehead. I wonder if his skin feels as warm as it looks, tanned and smooth. I wouldn’t ever breathe a word of him to Mom; Ryder is my little enigma, too wrapped up in his own world to notice someone like me.
A laughable thought really, considering Ryder Raines is the epitome of a walking, talking challenge—a man whose mere presence screams 'stay away if you value your sanity.' Yet here I am, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, or maybe like a puck to a hockey stick—irresistibly pulled in despite the inevitable crash.
With each step toward my apartment, I indulge in the fantasy of what will never be. How could someone like Ryder ever look at someone with freckles and fiery hair and see something worth exploring? He’s just another chapter in my book of untouchable dreams.
Real life isn't inside one of my steamy hockey books.I chastise myself, fumbling with my keys.
The apartment door clicks shut behind me, and I'm engulfed in the silence of my own space.
Memories from a few days ago race through my mind. Ryder was on the ice, a blur of muscle and focus, commanding the rink with an authority that made my pulse quicken.
I toss my keys onto the counter and lean against it, closing my eyes as another scene replays vividly.
The memory of Ryder's deep voice, laced with a hint of frustration, as he talked into his phone that night. He clearly asked if his dating match would be at an event he was invited to. Was he signed up to a dating service?
