Third
1405 Words
When I woke up, on the nightstand was placed a very appetizing looking dish. And surprisingly, Ryder was able to make everything I asked him too. There were even two bowl overflowing with Doritos and pop tarts.
I have to admit, he is a great cook. His future lover will be hella lucky.
Stretching my strained body, I decided it was time to go and look for the said man. I climbed in the wheelchair and began moving the wheels. Surprisingly, they were moving extremely smoothly on the floor, and when I looked down to check why, I was welcomed with an extremely peculiar image: my carpet.
I gasped loudly and then looked around my bedroom in a terrified astonishment.
"Rydeeeeer!!!" I screamed and rushed out the door and in the kitchen. When I didn't find him, I went to search the living room and indeed he was there.
Wearing a kerchief, the beefy boy was humming an unfamiliar song, his head moving in the rhythm of the music. Meantime, his hands were whisking the dust with a perfumed cloth, making the furniture shine brightly like a stray corner of sun.
I huffed in annoyance, sneaking behind Ryder's back and pinching his sides. He winced in pain, taking his kerchief off quickly before turning around and looking down at me with a slight scowl.
"What are you doing, dude?!You're here for only six hours and you're already intruding into my life like a freaking germ! " I crossed my arms around my chest, staring up at Ryde with a hostile gaze. He blinked numbly, an unwitting expression plastered on his face.
"What are you talking about?"
"I am talking about my clothes! They were on the floor, but now the floor is clean and my things are nowhere to be seen."
Ryder sighed, walking past me and into my room. I followed right behind.
"See that bunch of colorful, folded materials on the desk?"
"Yeah?..."
"Those are your clothes."
My mouth formed an "O" shape while my frown remained motionless on my brows.
"This still doesn't give you any right to search through my things! Don't enter my room from now on!!"
Ryder sighed, nodding duly. "Fine. As you wish."
Rubbing my temples, I ushered the boy out of my room and moved to the desk where my clothes were placed. Picking them up, I placed them in the closet and looked with disdainful eyes at the other shirts on the shelves. There, between them were Simon's pajamas from when he used to stay over at my house. I couldn't bring myself to throw them away, but I couldn't stand to see them either, hence keeping my clothes scattered all over the floor.
I sighed, closing the door of the closet. Even if I didn't love Simon anymore, I was still in love with his memory. This is why it was so hard to detach myself from the past. All I could do was to clung on the hope that this was all a dream and even if me and Simon couldn't be together anymore, I would still have two good legs and someone to fill the emptiness of my heart.
Who would want a handicapped man though?
'ཀ'✿'ཀ'
The rest of the day passed quietly. Ryder didn't enter my room and I didn't make anymore impossible demands. Now it was dinner time and we were both in the kitchen, me eating the food Ryder made and the boy washing the dishes.
"Tell me if you want more salt." Ryder whispered mindlessly, making me redirect my attention from my noddles to his muscle covered frame.
Truth to be told, even if the boy was almost seven feet tall, he looked more cute and pretty than handsome. Be it for the kerchief he wore earlier today or for the apron he had tied around his waist now, he had this kind of femininity which sweetened his hard features.
Realizing I hadn't answered Ryder's "almost" question, I put my spoon and chopsticks down and hummed in response. "It's good, no more salt."
I could have added that I was in love with his cooking skills too, but I didn't wanna act nicely when my intentions were to make his life a living hell. With this in mind, I pushed myself against the table and sneaked behind Ryder, pinching his sides and making him wince once again.
"So... what's your deal? Is the life of an unsocial really that expensive? I can always lend you a few bucks, and all you have to do is to convince my dads I don't need an assistant."
Ryder searched my face, sighing before going back to wash the dishes.
"Come on, man! You can always find a job in other place! I can even look it up for you..."
Stopping the flow of the water with a loud thud of the sink, Ryder turned around, leaning his palms against the counter. He then looked at me with an expressionless face, breathing in a big mouth of air.
"Listen, Carter... with all this crap you are putting up, you don't only prove that you really need an assistant, but that you must seek assistance too."
I furrowed my brows, advancing in front of Ryder with two rolls of my wheels.
"Are you saying that I am crazy?"
"No, not at all. I was just implying that you have some issues... mental ones which can be repaired."
I opened my mouth to respond, finding myself on the verge of a cursing storm. Ryder's luck though was that the entrance door opened and my parents came in.
Rolling my eyes, I moved away from Ryder, proceeding to the hall.
"Honey, we are home!!!" Papa's exaggeratedly pitched voice echoed through the house, almost shaking the walls with its intensity.
"And oh,God, I forgot my marching band to come and greet you!" I responded sourly, already in front of my dads.
"Hi, pumpkin!" My papa bend over to plant a kiss on my forehead while my dad just ruffled my bangs, making his way into the kitchen. There he began talking with Ryder, questioning him about everything I did while they were gone.
This is the reason why I hated having an assistant... I didn't have a life of my own, nor privacy or personal space. This wheelchair came with the price of loosing control over my life... and as much as I loved my parents for putting up with my behavior, I still felt like they could have a little more trust in me.
"So, Carter, how was your day with Ryder? Are you already aware of your blooming feelings for him?"
I looked at my papa with scrunched eyes, feelings myself wince for a reason only I was aware of.
"What the heck, pops? I've just met Ryder a few hours ago! And for your total disappointment, I hate him. He is the worst of all my previous assistants."
My father frowned, crossing his arms around his chest like a spoiled baby.
"Don't call me pops, it makes me feel old! And don't use such big words like "hate", son! Not until you're able to understand their weight."
I rolled my eyes, making my way out the living room.
"You are old, pops!"
"Now if you excuse me, I am going to the bathroom and then in my bedroom to sleep."
"Do you need help?" Papa asked, standing up from the couch and proceeding to walk after me.
I stopped moving my wheelchair, turning to look at my father with a frustrated frown.
"What could you possibly help me with? Place my hands on the supporting bars and then lift me above the toilet? Help me have a better target so I don't miss the bowl? Or reading me a goodnight story?"
"Carter!"
"Well, sometimes you are surreal! I can't even take a good and long s**t without you knocking at the door to make sure I didn't drown."
"Vocabulary, young man!" Papa scowled, his hands crossed sternly around his chest.
"Or what?" I mocked. "You're gonna ground me inside the house? Or are you gonna make me kiss Ryder as a punishment?"
"I shall as well do! You might catch some common sense from him!"
I turned around to mask the hurt on my face.
"Yeah, exactly! The common sense you so greatly failed to teach me."
- Writer
