Ryder F****** Cole!
1329 Words
Maya
~_
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them—Liam and Bree, tangled together like two inseparable sea urchins. The image burned itself into my brain, destroying even the littlest ounce of delusion I had left.
I wasn’t special. I never had been.
By morning, the sting had settled into something else. Not acceptance—never that. But maybe exhaustion.
I needed air.
I left before Ray could ask questions, heading straight for the only café in town that served decent coffee. It wasn’t until I was waiting in line that I felt it—an itch at the back of my neck. There was no doubt that I was being watched.
I turned my head slightly.
Bingo
Ryder f*****g Cole!
He was seated in the farthest booth, one arm stretched across the back of the seat, the other resting lazily on the table. A cup sat in front of him, but he wasn’t drinking it. He was watching me, like he had been waiting for my arrival.
I ignored him.
Ordered my drink.
Told myself I wouldn’t let last night replay in my head again.
But as I turned to find a seat, Ryder had moved.
He didn’t say anything—just stood up, walked over, and pulled out the chair across from me like he had every right to sit there.
I exhaled through my nose. “I don’t remember inviting you to sit.”
He smirked, like he knew I’d say that. “You didn’t.”
Ryder had the kind of presence that was impossible to ignore. Where Liam was all golden-boy charm—light eyes, tousled brown hair, a face that made every girl within a five-mile radius fall at his feet—Ryder was something else entirely.
Darker.
His hair was black, thick, effortlessly messy, like he didn’t care enough to style it but somehow made it look good anyway. His eyes—God, his eyes—were an unsettling mix of brown and gold, shifting like embers catching light. Ombre eyes. That was the only way I could describe them. Like they could burn right through you if you got too close.
His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones even sharper, and when he smiled, it wasn’t the easy, boyish grin Liam had mastered. No. Ryder’s smile was slow. Knowing.
And right now, he was using it on me.
I sipped my coffee. “What do you want?”
He tilted his head, watching me like he was figuring out which string to pull. “Rough night?”
I ignored the way his voice felt against my skin. Smooth. Amused. Like he already knew the answer.
I gave him a tight smile. “Mind your business.”
“I would,” he mused, tapping a finger against the table. “But it’s hard when your business is so damn loud.”
I bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said slowly, “watching you chase after my brother is like watching a car crash in slow motion.”
I clenched my jaw. “Shut up.”
But Ryder never shut up.
“Must be exhausting,” he continued, like he hadn’t heard me. “Loving someone who doesn’t love you back.”
I forced myself to breathe evenly. To keep my face blank. “Why do you even care?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just took a slow sip of his coffee before setting it down.
Then he leaned in.
“Because it’s a waste.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“A waste,” he repeated. “Watching you throw yourself at Liam when we both know how this ends.”
My fingers tightened around my cup. Heat crawled up my neck, not just from embarrassment but from how easily he could read me. I needed to change the subject.
I forced out a small, unimpressed huff. “When did you get back anyway? Last I heard, you were in Berlin.”
Ryder studied me for a second before leaning back into his seat, as if letting me have the temporary distraction. “A week ago.”
I raised a brow. “No welcome party?”
His lips twitched. “Didn’t feel like it.”
I took a sip of my coffee, forcing myself to relax. “How was Berlin?”
He shrugged. “Loud. Busy.”
“That’s it?”
His smirk deepened. “What do you want me to say? That I spent my nights drinking expensive whiskey and making bad decisions?”
I scoffed. “Sounds about right.”
His chuckle was low, lazy.
I hesitated, then asked, “Did you set up the club there?”
His amusement faded just slightly. “What do you know about my business?”
I lifted a shoulder. “That it exists.”
Ryder narrowed his eyes, scanning my face like he was trying to figure me out. “And?”
“And,” I said, taking another sip, “I know Berlin was supposed to be your first overseas expansion.”
His fingers drummed against the table. “Who told you that?”
I shrugged again. “You’d be surprised what people talk about when they think no one’s listening.”
Ryder smirked, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze. “And here I thought you spent all your time stalking Liam.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right, because I have nothing better to do.”
He let out a low hum. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Which one?”
“Why you care so much about my business.”
I opened my mouth—then closed it.
Because the truth was, I didn’t know.
Maybe—just maybe—it was because, for all the times I had convinced myself that Liam was the one I wanted, I had never been able to completely ignore his older brother.
I swallowed. “Maybe I just like knowing things.”
Ryder tilted his head, watching me a second too long. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe.”
A stretch of silence settled between us.
And then…
“What if I gave you another option?”
I blinked. “What?”
Ryder smiled. But it wasn’t kind. It wasn’t comforting. It was sharp, edged with something dangerous.
“A bet,” he said simply.
I stared. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He propped his elbows on the table, watching me like a hunter cornering his prey. “Five weeks.”
I swallowed. “Five weeks for what?”
Ryder leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to make my pulse spike.
“Five weeks to make Liam fall in love with you.”
The words slammed into me, knocking the air from my lungs.
I opened my mouth—then closed it. I had to have misheard him. “You’re joking.”
“Dead serious.”
I laughed, but it came out hollow. “And if I lose?”
His smile widened.
“Then I win.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach flip. “And what exactly do you win?”
Ryder didn’t blink.
“You.”
The café felt too small. The walls too close.
I forced out a laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He tapped his fingers against the table. “Liam won’t love you, Maya. Not the way you want him to. But if you need to see it for yourself—” he shrugged, “—I’m happy to raise the stakes.”
I hated how calm he sounded. Hated how easily he spoke about something I had spent years pretending wasn’t true.
I should have walked away. Should have thrown my coffee in his face and told him to screw off.
But instead, I heard myself say—
“You’re on.”
- Writer
