THIRTY-FOUR
The gym room!
It suddenly crossed Claire's mind that she hadn't checked the gym room.
Claire's eyes rested straight on Ryan when she entered the gym room. He was drenched in sweat, earphones on his ears, while running frustrated on the treadmill. It was crystal clear to Claire that he'd been doing this for a very good while.
Her heart was pounding fast as she looked at him—at his wide back.
The room was huge and spacious. It was serenely painted in white and light grey. A few workout machines were installed, including the treadmill near the wide window where Ryan was currently stationed. On the wooden floor lay two yoga mattresses, dumbbells, and medicine balls.
Sighing, Claire slowly shut the door behind her and paced towards Ryan, who was extremely absentminded to even discern her presence in the room. She reached the treadmill and took a few steps to announce her presence.
And he finally took notice of her.
"Ryan," Claire called slowly, carefully, standing before his eyes.
A startled look was evident on Ryan's face, but he didn't utter a word. Bouncing up and down as he jogged, his body wet and aphrodisiac, he slowly shifted his gaze at the machine's dashboard and turned it off. His steps slowed down gradually, his arctic gaze on hers.
If looks could kill . . .
"What brings you here?" Ryan asked in baritone while grabbing a small towel from the dashboard.
Expectant of his anger, Claire sighed softly.
"What else would bring me here?" She responded quietly.
"If I did, I wouldn't ask," Ryan replied dryly, wiping the sweat while leaving the treadmill.
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to respond to your calls on time." She followed him.
"Is that so?" Ryan uttered cynically.
Wordless, they headed toward the door and made their exit. Claire was right behind him as she stalked him to the kitchen. Perhaps she needed some miracle for this day to end well.
"Are you angry? I don't understand your attitude right now," she asked calmly as Ryan stopped in the kitchen.
He didn't respond to that. He opened the fridge and pulled a chilled bottle of water. Claire remained patient, and he gulped the water until the bottle was empty. A sigh of refreshment lurched from his mouth, his eyes fixed on hers dangerously.
"Ryan, I'm talking to you!" Claire snapped, but he hardly responded. It was getting frustrating. "Okay, I get it. Maybe I shouldn't have come." Annoyed, she wanted to walk past him.
"Where were you?" Ryan held her wrist.
"I . . . I went out with a friend for dinner," Claire answered, startled.
Ryan squinted his eyes. "A friend?"
"Yes, a friend who has just returned today from abroad. Why? Can't I go out with other people now?" Claire didn't know why she said this, but it was probably a defense mechanism.
For some reason, she was afraid to tell the entire truth that it was her ex-boyfriend, even though she had no reason to hide that information either.
Perhaps she found it an unnecessary risk to take.
Ryan freed her hand with a sigh. "Of course you can. I just don't understand why you couldn't pick my calls. Were you that busy with her?" His face hardened.
Her? Claire cringed inside.
"I just happened to forget removing the silent mode after the meeting at work. And it was a he, not a she." She decided to come clean.
Ryan's eyes widened. It was a guy?
"Anything else I should know about him? Because it's evident that he's very dear to you." His tone was rather harsh, his sarcasm unchecked
"What are you insinuating?" Claire asked carefully.
"Nothing," Ryan answered, deadpan. "It's impossible that you forgot your phone in hours, unless you were having a great time with him. Does he like you, too?" he added cynically and walked out of the kitchen after dumping the bottle in the trash can.
"What's wrong with you? I said it was a mistake that I couldn't answer your calls. Do you really think I did it on purpose? Or for the reasons you're possibly imagining? My God, Ryan!"
"I prepared that damn dinner for us! How stupid of me!" Ryan scoffed incredulously, pointing a finger at the dining room.
"Yes, I know," Claire said remorsefully, eyeing the dinner table from a distance. "But we had no plans for dinner, Ryan. You said you were going to be busy for the evening, remember?"
Jesus, how was she supposed to know that he had other plans for them?
"Yes, I did!" Ryan bellowed. "But that's because I wanted to—" He paused, unable to say that he wanted to surprise her.
Fuck, he was so dying to give her the romantic whatever she was whining about just the other night! And for what? Only to find her busy with some friend who happened to be a guy! Fuck!
"You wanted what?" Claire inquired softly.
"Nothing." Ryan didn't see the point of embarrassing himself. "You should've just stayed with your friend instead."
"Ryan, please," Claire uttered exhaustedly, wishing they'd stop arguing. "Why would I stay with him? I only agreed to have dinner with him because I didn't want to go ho—"
"I don't need you here, Claire." Ryan's flat declaration made her eyes freeze. "You can go now."
"What did you say?" Claire whispered, her tone dismayed.
Not that she didn't hear the words; she just didn't want to agree.
Rejection—her worst nightmare.
"You can leave now," Ryan repeated dryly.
I don't need you here. A very intense silence settled as Claire tried to process his statement.
"Right," she breathed, her eyes as defeated just as her voice. "Why would you need me? You have everything." She was ready to go, ready to be far away from this place.
Ryan said nothing, his whole body tense as he looked at her.
"It's not like we're a couple, Ryan," Claire told him while wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Which means I had no reason to explain anything to you as I thought. I'm the stupid one for coming here." With one last teardrop, she scurried toward the foyer.
He didn't need her. The words kept replaying, and it pained Claire brutally. What was she expecting? That she was going to be the center of his universe? How stupid was that? Why did she have to let him back into her life? She had already known that he was only going to hurt her.
She should've known that he wasn't the Prince charming, and neither that Knight in shining armor. He was nothing but a heartbreaking jerk! When was she going to accept this?
The night had already matured as Claire stepped outside the building. She took a deep breath and stared up in the sky, as though contemplating the twinkling stars and moon. It was beautiful. She slowly dragged her legs to the driveway so as to start walking to the main road.
Claire didn't think of it before, but this neighborhood was quite snobbish. Perhaps everyone had their own cars, which meant she had to walk to the main road for a taxi. It wasn't a bother at all, however, for she was already feeling awful as it was.
About five minutes later a familiar car pulled over beside her.
What the heck! Her eyes widened. She stopped moving and Ryan exited the car in a hurry, still dressed up in his workout attire. Seeing him, Claire quickly resumed her steps, walking speedily until he grabbed her hand.
"Hold on, Claire," Ryan beseeched.
Claire pulled her hand savagely. "What? Have you forgotten to tell me something else?" she snapped.
"No, I came to apologize," Ryan uttered, his gaze lowered towards her.
Ha! This guy was something else. Claire scoffed.
"For what? For telling me what I was already aware of? You don't need to apologize, Ryan. You were clear enough and I got the message," she said truthfully.
Ryan's hand fell, perplexed. "I don't know what's happening to me. I don't understand what you're doing to me, Claire. I hate it when you're away from me! I don't like it when you're not responding to my calls or texts, and it drives me nuts knowing you've done all that because you were with another man! I just can't help it!" he shouted.
"And what am I supposed to say, huh?" Claire shouted back. "What? That I totally understand that you only need me when it's convenient for you?" Tears rolled in her face once again.
"Let's just go back and talk, huh? Ryan begged her.
"I want to go home, Ryan. I'm so tired," Claire said, and it immediately hit her mind that her home was no longer her home anyway.
What a day!
"I was just confused, Claire. I didn't mean what I said," Ryan repeated, imploring her. "Let's go home, please." He held her hand, and she brushed it away.
"Will you please stop saying home!" Claire lashed. "That is your home, not mine. Don't do this to me, Ryan, I beg you!"
"Claire . . ." Ryan made a stride toward her, but she drew back stoutly. He looked dismayed at it. "Don't do this, Claire."
"I'll do whatever I want, Ryan! Let me go."
A small silence passed before Ryan uttered, "Fine, but I'll be the one to take you to your house." He grabbed her hand.
"What are you doing, Ryan? Let me go!" Claire protested.
"Don't be stubborn, Claire! It's late and you don't have a car, so I'll drive you home if you can't stay here!" Ryan continued dragging her into the car, which she ended up inside as he'd intended. "I'll just take you back to your house, so please try to be good—at least for once." He sighed heavily.
Facing the window, sulking, was Claire's response.
God, what was he going to do with this sexy little brat, huh? Ryan smiled amused at the pout face she made, her arms across her chest. As stubborn as she was, Ryan liked everything about her. Even when she made her angry and then smiled at the little things like her face right now.
"Seatbelt," he uttered, and Claire compiled without a word.
In a minute Ryan roared the engine as soon as he'd buckled his own seatbelt. For the first time they rode in silence. Neither he, nor she, dared to utter a word. Claire was busy staring outside, and he was concentrating on the road.
Although it was the fastest ride, it felt the longest they'd ever had. When they arrived at Claire's house, she scurried out without simple thanks. Ryan sat still, watching her moving crazily until she disappeared through the gates.
This was the end. Claire wanted this to be the last time she was going to see Ryan Stevens. He wasn't the man for her—she adamantly reminded her thick skull.
And as if this ordeal wasn't enough for Claire yet, she got herself face to face with her stepmother when she walked into the living room. Just great! Claire sighed exhaustedly, for she knew what was coming her way.
"Do you even realize what time it is?" Selma snapped. She was already in her nightgown. "What type of a lady are you, Claire? Have I made such a mistake raising you?"
Claire had no argument. She was too exhausted to even wonder.
"I'm sorry, I had a lot to do and I didn't realize it was this late," she answered and started pacing towards the stairs.
"Why don't you just move to your own place so that you can come and go out whenever you feel like?" Selma whined, and Claire halted momentarily, gripping tightly the edge of the staircase handrails. "It's not like you can't afford to find yourself a place to live, right? You have money, you have a job, and you're a grownup woman now."
Claire whirled around and asked, "Are you that uncomfortable having me around?" She eyed Selma directly, and for a moment her mother seemed taken aback. "Do you really want me out of this house?" Her voice was surprisingly calm.
"If I tell you the truth, will you do as I say?" Selma said, her face pale, makeup-less and thick-skinned.
Claire smiled ruefully. "Who knows? I'm in a very good mood today, Mother. Perhaps I may grant your wish. So is that what you want?" Her question stayed.
Her step mother lunged forward. "Yes, I want you out of this house. I hate the sight of you, you make me sick to the bones, I never liked you one bit Claire, no matter how hard I tried, and I don't think I ever will; because you're not my daughter, I'm not related to you," she said.
Claire was as blank as a plain white paper. She had no idea what she felt and it didn't matter. There was nothing she didn't know, after all. "Okay. I'll move out of the house soon; I just need some time to find a place," she said casually, trying hard not to cry.
Selma nodded. "Good, you can take your time, as long as you disappear from my sight."
"Okay," Claire answered with another smile, and slowly ascended the stairs to her room.
Once inside her private chamber, Claire rushed over toward the bed. She sat down and found herself laughing and crying at the same time. It was so funny and absurd. Why was everyone trying to get rid of her in both directions? Her laughter increased as the questions without answers kept piling up inside her head.
Why was she such bad luck? Why was it that no one really accepted her? She asked herself, and it all felt more absurd. Maybe she wasn't supposed to be born. Maybe she should've just died during birth or thereafter. Was it so hard for anyone to spare a little love for her? Crying her heart out, Claire buried herself under the duvet, thinking of no one but her parents.
Special Note: To anyone going through a difficult ordeal in life, please don't give up. There's a purpose to every life; and there's always a light at the end of a tunnel.