Ryan Library Hours Novels & Stories

Ryan had the door open before she reached it. "Eighteen hours," he said, not as a question. Not even acknowledging, the driver who was sitting in the driver's seat. "Ryan..." "Eighteen hours, Isla. I called you four times." "My phone was on silent, I was working..." "Working." He said the word like it had personally offended him." He had you in that building until two in the morning and you're calling it working." He looked past her toward the street. The Pagani was already gone.

After a pause, he replied curtly, “Alright. What time?” “Let’s leave around 10 a.m.,” I said, hoping to bridge the distance that had grown between us. The next morning, Ryan arrived at my apartment exactly on time. The ride to the orphanage was quiet at first, the tension between us palpable. I tried to fill the silence “So, how’s work going? Still saving lives?” I asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “It’s fine,” he replied tersely, keeping his eyes on the road. I sighed inwardly, realizing he wasn’t ready to open up. Still, I kept the conversation going, trying to ease the awkwardness.