29 - the mile high city

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Fall break comes faster than any of us expect, but sure enough, three weeks later here we are all packing our bags into Andees Subaru to prepare for the drive to Denver. She and Tristan had just shared an overly tearful goodbye in which I had eventually interjected to remind them they would be seeing each other next week. She had then chastised me by reminding me I wasn't having to do without like she was. But I wouldn't quite compare what Ryder and I were doing with the full steam ahead, loved-up relationship that she was in.

In the three weeks between when I invited Ryder to stay with me and my family instead of wallowing in Boulder by himself, he and I had spent a good amount of time together. He'd taken me out twice more since then, the first time was to dinner at Bar Taco that ended with us drunk off our asses at Press Play, dancing together in a way that was probably inappropriate to anyone around us who might have been sober enough to care.

The second time, he'd invited me over when the rest of his roommates were out of the apartment, and he tried to cook us dinner. It was a genuine attempt that I really appreciated, but among all the things I'd been learning about him, one thing I discovered that night was he couldn't really cook—no matter how hard he tried.

That night we ended up order Flower Pepper through HungryBuffs, and we watched our favorite Harry Potter movie in the living room. Though eventually we ended up moving things upstairs, so no one walked in on a startling surprise.

In that time, I'd come to realize that Ryder might be the breath of fresh air that I'd needed for too long now. Even when I'd been in the worst of my relationship with Miles.

Whatever it was that we were building between us felt different than what I'd had with Miles. It wasn't too complicated or heavy or overwhelmed by either of our problems. We didn't cling to one another either, even though we were spending more time together, we still went days without talking or hanging out—something I think every person in a stable relationship of any kind needs every now and again.

As we pull up outside their house to pick up Justin and Ryder though, I do find myself excited to see him again. We hadn't talked since doing homework together Sunday night, but granted he was slammed with training, and I'd been dragging myself through the last of the assignments my professors had handed out before we all left for break. Now that it's Tuesday, and everyone is finally free to relax for a few days, there's a certain ease in the air.

"Bitches," Justin emerges from their front door, designer handbag and suitcase in tow as he steps out into the dim lighting. We were originally supposed to leave a little earlier today, but as per usual, we were late. "It's turkey time."

"Please don't ever say that again." I reply, shaking my head as I walk up to the front door, taking his backpack and helping him carry it to the car.

"I'm so excited to eat pie that even your sass can't ruin my holiday cheer today." He quips, shoving his bags into the trunk of Andee's car unceremoniously.

"Bro, did you really need three bags?" I hear Ryder's voice behind me, and spin around smiling as he approaches, having just left their house, locking the door. He's carrying a large navy-blue duffel bag, the brown leather strap slung over one shoulder, dressed in a black Adidas track suit.

"If you had any sense of style," Justin replies cooly. "Then you'd understand."

With that he steps around us, calling out that he needs to sit in the front seat because of his car sickness as he takes shot gun.

"I feel like this track suit means I have style." Ryder comments, grinning at me and I nod.

"He's just bitter he didn't think to wear his today." I reassure him. He laughs, stepping up to me and surprising me as he sweeps one arm around me, pulling me against his chest.

"So, how have you been?" He asks, voice low and warm.

"Stressed," I sigh, leaning up and running my arms around his neck. "But better now."

"Good." He grins, titling his head down and I follow his lead, meeting his lips and kissing him sweetly. We kiss for longer than we should considering our friends are just a few feet away, waiting for us to get in the car. Something we're reminded of when I catch Justin's voice.

"Hurry up love birds!" He shouts. "I've got a date with Andee's moms' lasagna that I do not intend to miss."

We break apart reluctantly then as Ryder tosses his bag in the back, closing the truck before taking my hand and pulling me around to the side of the car. There he opens the door to the backseat for me, and we both slide in.

"Calm down Justin," I comment as the car door shuts and Andee turns the key in the ignition. "There will be plenty of lasagna left over for you."

"I refuse to eat leftovers," He replies. "I better get there when its fresh out of the oven."

The drive to Denver passes in a blur of old school hip hop, Justin recounting his latest drama with Brady, and Andee instructing me to respond to Tristan's texts while she drives. Soon enough we are in my neighborhood, passing by the large houses with long driveways, pulling up outside a white, ranch style home with neatly trimmed hedges and large red front doors that have two wreaths hung on them.

"Alright you two," Andee says, throwing the car into park as she idles on the street in front of my house. "Good luck tonight, Ryder."

"Thanks." He mutters, looking out the car window with me at the large house looming before us. "But hopefully I won't need it."

When it came to my mother, he had nothing to worry about. She'd flipped when I told her I was bringing a friend with me, insisting she make up the guest bedroom next to mine for him—instead of having him spend the nights on our basement couch—and requesting I send her any food requests he might have.

It's my father and brother who are going to have the most to say, something that makes me feel slightly panicked, especially because we'd been doing well together without the pressure of having to label anything.

As we step out of the car the anxiety that had faded for me recently creeps back slightly, though this time it's more like butterflies as Ryder insists on carrying my bags for me up the long drive.

Andee honks as she and Justin drive off, calling out the window that she'd see us tomorrow for the annual hike my family did with her family.

"You nervous?" Ryder asks me as we approach the front door.

"I mean," I pause, glancing to him, relived his expression is easy. "Not really, I just don't want them to make you feel like there's all this pressure."

"Nah," He shakes his head. "Don't worry. Trust me, I'm just grateful to be with people for the holiday."

"I know, I don't think it would've been right to leave you there all alone." I pout, stepping closer as we stop outside the front door and leaning up. He grins at me, leaning down to kiss me gently.

"I also can't pass up the opportunity to fuck you in your childhood bedroom." He whispers to me, and I gasp, shoving his chest gently.

"When you say it like that you make it sound gross." I scold and then we both laugh.

"Just kidding." He reassures me, leaning in again but then suddenly the front door flies open to reveal my mother, a bright smile on her face. She's dawned a maroon dress, slim fit, paired with heals and a set of pearls, her hair curled to frame her face.

"Jordy!" She cries, leaping forward instantly to wrap me in a bone crushing hug that I return. She turns to Ryder then, smiling up at him. "And you must be the mysterious Ryder I've heard so much about."

She hugs him then too, his expression surprised as he tries to hug her back, but the bags in his hands make it a bit difficult. She pulls back then, hands on his shoulders as she gives him a once over.

"Wow Jourdan," she sends a glance my way. "He's so handsome."

"Mom." I groan instantly, already aware that I'm blushing as I feel the heat in my cheeks, but Ryder just laughs.

"Are you sure you two are just friends?" She asks and my stomach does a flip. We hadn't been here even 5 minutes and already the questions that I'd dreaded have started.

"Mother." I hiss, giving her a pointed look as she throws her hands up innocently.

"It's alright Mrs. Mathews," Ryder jumps in for me, grinning. "We'll just call it good friends, for now at least."

She smiles at Ryder, nodding like she understood the underlying meaning as a sly expression settles on her face.

"Oh, I see," she agrees, pursing her lips in thought. "And please, call me Elise."

There's a pause while she glances back and forth between us, her eyes summing up her assumptions about whatever there is going on in this 'situationship'. Then she seems to make up her mind, nodding and stepping back into the house.

"Come in," She ushers us forward. "Come in, please, put these bags down."

"Thank you so much for having me." Ryder says as we step inside, setting my suitcase and backpack down, along with his duffel bag. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course! Any good friend of Jourdan's is automatically honorary family to us." She reassures him, waving us into the house as we kick our shoes off in the entry way. I don't miss the way she looks at me as the emphasizes friend, something which I really wish I could ignore. There's a commotion coming from the kitchen as we enter it, and as I look around, I realize most of my family, including my extended family, have already arrived for the holiday.

"Baby Jordy!" I hear my brothers voice, and sure enough the lean figure of my five-foot nine brother appears, marching towards me with arms outstretched. His blonde hair combed back; a light scruff covers his chin. I spot his fLarscé standing with my mom and aunt, who wave to me from across the kitchen.

He hugs me tightly as soon as he reaches me, squeezing me hard enough to probably break a couple ribs, a sign that my aunt had already broken out her famous martinis. Spencer Mathews had never been one to turn down a drink or two.

"So good to see you," He hums, pulling back to look down at me, before turning to Ryder. "And who the hell is this?"

The tinge of the New Jersey accent he'd picked up makes his question sound scarier than it really is.

"Ryder Harris." He offers, hand outstretched, which my brother takes and shakes aggressively.

"So, Ryder," Spencer muses, looking back and forth between us. "What are your intentions with my baby sister here?"

"I'm not a baby anymore." I protest but Spencer waves me off, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he sizes Ryder up. Though Ryder is easily a few feet taller than him.


"Well, I uh," Ryder pauses, looking to me before smiling and continuing. "I think my intentions are good. I like her and I want to take care of her, I mean, I do take care of her."

"Uh huh, my sister's perfectly capable of taking care of herself." Spencer responds, narrowing his eyes.

"Spencer, seriously," I say, giving him a look but he ignores me again.

"No, no," Ryder reassures me. "He's right, you can, but I like to be extra support then."

"Alright," Spencer nods approvingly, expression easing as he grins at Ryder. "I can dig that. Also, I can't lie, as a CU alum I may already have a sense of who you are."

"Oh my god." I sigh, rolling my eyes, but Ryder doesn't seem bothered at all. If anything, I think he enjoys the attention.

"Jourdan quit being dramatic," Spencer scolds me. "Go have a martini and let me take your new basketball star outside to meet the men of the family."

"Outside?" I ask.

"Yeah, dad's making tacos tonight," he explains quickly. "Wanted to smoke the meat."

"Text me," I say to Ryder, holding his arm gently. "If you need to be rescued."

"I'll be okay," He smiles at me. "Don't worry."

"See," Spencer nods, clapping Ryder roughly on the back. "My man can take care of himself too, come on, you want a beer?" He asks, turning Ryder towards the sliding door to our backyard. I watch as they maneuver their way around my tween cousins, through the kitchen nook and outside.

"Jordy!" My aunt Carol is by my side then, wrapping her arms around me and engulfing me in her heavy perfume as she pulls me towards where she, my mother, and Spencer's fLarscé Marissa are standing around an ornate charcuterie board. From here they have a good view of my cousins, who are all gathered around the kitchen table, exchanging phones as they laugh at different TikTok's.

"Who is that delicious man you've brought with you?" Marissa questions me instantly, her deep red, acrylic nails tapping against the stem of her martini glass. Aunt Carol shoves my own drink into my hand, which I take gratefully and sip for a moment before answering, needing a bit of liquid courage.

"He's a good friend." I say briefly and all three women raise their well-manicured eyebrows.

"I think there's more to it than that," my mother interjects. "But you two are working your way up to it."

"Mom," I sigh. "Please, we are actually good friends and just don't need make things complicated. He wasn't able to go home for Thanksgiving, that's the main reason I invited him."

"Of course, sweetheart," Aunt Carol nods, wrapping her arm around me again comfortingly. "No one should be alone on Thanksgiving."

"Yes, it was very nice of you to invite him." Marissa agrees, an intrigued look on her face as she sips her martini too. "I think it's lovely that you have such a good friend."

"I agree," my mom nods, reaching a handout to squeeze my own gently. "You look very happy. It makes me . . . so relieved to see you looking so much lighter." She sniffles, the drinks she'd been consuming clearly already going to her head.

"Mom." I say, smiling. "It's okay."

"I know, I know," She sighs, waving a hand under her eyes as she takes a deep breath.

"So, how is everything else going?" Marissa asks then, shifting the conversation as I tell them how the semester has been going so far. Recounting to them the details of my second to last semester of classes. Then my cousins join the circle, complaining about being hungry. Each give me a hug, finally done with their phones and ready to rejoin human conversation.

My aunt Carol had popped out three girls. One a year older than the other two, who were fraternal twins. They were 14 and 13, all three with abundant sandy blonde hair and green eyes to match my aunt. And all three in the depths of transitioning from being a child into teenage-dom.

Soon enough the sliding door opens, followed by the sounds of the boisterous laughter of my father and uncle Derek. Both men carrying a rack of smoked meat which smells incredible. They are followed by Ryder and Spencer, who are chatting and laughing like old friends. Spencer's soon-to-be stepson Matt, a 17-year-old kid who is gangly, tall, and supporting the classic skater boys' outfit of baggy jeans, an oversized hoody, and a rolled-up beanie planted lightly over his shaggy brown hair, talks with them, having squeezed himself in between Spencer and Ryder.

Not too far behind them comes the clamoring of three dogs. One, a large American Akita named Bruno who is my mother's pride and join. The second, a blonde corgi, Sammy, who is my father's companion, and never leaves his side. And the third, a bumbling brown lab named Coco who is my brother's dog.

"Jourdan!" My father's voice and my Uncle Derek's voice boom in unison across the kitchen. Their matched volume a clear indication of the fact that they are brothers.

"Good to see ya honey!" My father approaches, silver hair bristling in the kitchen light, dressed in tan slacks and a polo shirt, his cooking apron tied on top of that.

I brace myself for another round of hugs as he and Uncle Derek greet me, squeezing me tight and promising me a delicious meal tonight. Ryder stands with Spencer and Matt across the kitchen island from me, finishing his conversation. Though I don't miss the way he glances to me, grinning.

"I enjoy this new young man of yours." My father tells me, hands on his hips and Uncle Derek nods, stroking his bushy mustache thoughtfully.

"He's agreed to play a round of pick-up basketball with us Thanksgiving while we cook the bird," Uncle Derek adds. "It goes without saying that I will beat him."

"Hmm mm, you can certainly try." I giggle and the two men give me a look.

"Let him have his dream," my dad shrugs. "Afterall, he thrives on grand delusions."

"Says the man who's already bet 50 bucks on our team." Uncle Derek chuckles and they both shake their heads, continuing to fire shots back and forth while they get to work cutting up the rack of meat they'd been smoking.

It's then I feel a pair of hands slide around my waist and I glance up, realizing Ryder had moved across the kitchen to join me. I smile, turning around and wrapping my arms around his neck easily.

"Did you have fun out there?" I ask and he nods, grinning.

"Yeah, actually," he tells me, expression humorous. "Your dad is hilarious. And your uncle too."

"I'm glad you got along with them so quickly," I nod. "They're great, once you've won their approval."

"I hope I was successful." He adds, and I shrug.

"Let's just say, if you weren't successful," I say. "Then you all would have been outside for a lot longer, probably having a very different conversation."

We both laugh then, leaning in closer but luckily, we both have the good sense not to do anything but hug while my entire family is around. While everyone might be distracted with their own business, that still doesn't mean someone isn't watching us out of the corner of their eye. And by someone, I mean my mother.

Soon we all gather around the kitchen island and an array of taco toppings spread out before us. Once everyone has

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