"What the...?" I asked as I started to open the front door and then saw Ryder at my door with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Hold on," he said before taking it upon himself to enter my house and pass me. "Where's your room?"

"Upstairs—wait, what," I stammered as he took each step through the stairwell door by twos. Somehow, when we reached the second floor, I put myself between him and my door. He looked around at the loft.

"This is nice," he complimented like he had all the time in the world to gaze upon it. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Why do I have a feeling you're used to getting your way when it comes to barging into girls' bedrooms?" I asked him. He looked down at me and through the small dimple in his chin I knew he was thinking of sassy comments to respond with, but he only stepped back away from me, taking a breath of mine with him.

"May I have permission to enter the portal through which your bedroom lies?" he inquired, gesturing towards the door.

"You can say door," I said, crossing my arms and looking at him crazy to cover up how much I wanted to giggle at how dorky he was.

"Yeah, but then it wouldn't give me enough time for my distraction," he shrugged.

"Wait, what—"

He slipped by me and opened my door in which revealed my plain room.

"This room is perfect," he said, sliding the bag off his back. Perfect for what? I was thinking. He was beginning to unzip his bag while crouched over and then looked up at me. "What color was your other room?"

"Um, mostly lavender," I answered. It had been that way since I was a baby and never changed. If I walked into a paint store, I could point out the exact shade of the purple and each consecutive year it faded on my walls. It made me sad to think about my room, now. Ryder stood up slowly and then I was feeling him hug me over my shoulders as if knowing I needed it. He emitted the degree of heat necessary to melt my heart just by that act of affection. I didn't need to take in his scent or comment on how our breaths fell identical after a second. I felt my eyes close and in a flash, I was seeing a pair of red eyes staring back at me. A canine's pair of red eyes. I opened my eyes and I think I might have jumped or something because Ryder reluctantly pulled away from me and gave me a look of concern. I had a blink a few times because the eyes were in such resemblance of intention even though they were different in every physical way...just as the canine looked to be dangerous and as Ryder proved his danger, their eyes promised something way more.

"Then I'll make sure it isn't purple if—"

"No," I told him. "I want it to be purple."

I didn't know why the color of my room was of such importance to me, or why Ryder was even wasting his day with me. He didn't question me on my past. He didn't question me on why I did anything. He just observed and responded in the most appropriate way as if someone had a manual to fit into my life so easily. Ryder Ramon was completely different. Even as I now saw, painting the base color of the wall to an eggshell white, I found myself painting that same stroke again and again because I distracted myself by looking over at the boy who was using a paint roller—even though his height could paint any inch of this room if he tried.

"What the...Ashlynn?" I heard a voice start to question. I looked around Ryder and saw Cassandra climbing the stairs and coming to a halt at the sight of the loft. It was seemingly trashed because we had moved everything from my room into there in order to paint. I stood up.

"So I started on my room," I smiled, trying to ease the situation as Ryder put the roll into the container of paint. He fidgeted in his spot for a moment while I helped Cassandra navigate through the furniture maze. She made it near the door to my room and Ryder nervously extended a hand after wiping a spot of white paint onto his jeans.

"Ryder," he introduced.

"Oh, I know who you are," Cassandra said within the most repulsive look I'd seen her give anyone. I looked across at Ryder, who originally gave Cassandra a look as if he was about to cuss her out, but with a glance to me, his jaw loosened and I saw his hand retract slowly and fall to his side.

"Nice meeting you anyways," he countered before sending me one last look and departing. I sent Cassandra a look of look-what-you-did mixed with why-would-you-do-that? before trotting for the stairs after Ryder who somehow got through the maze so easily.

"Ryder, I'm s—"

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" he promised with a forged smile for just a second. I wanted to believe this was a boy covering up the offense he took from Cassandra, but maybe it was just the boy who didn't care. Before I could say anything, he turned his shoulders, walked through the frame of the door and headed down the street with his hands in his pockets.

Let me tell you, that same voice within me that nearly barked over possession involving Stella last night came out again. This time it was feeling angry that someone dared to insult Ryder, even by a look. This time, my victim was Cassandra.

"He was just helping me with my room," I told her. She scoffed humorously.

"Oh I know what he wants to help you with in your room," she retorted. I glared at her even though she had a point given the fact that Ryder was a teenage boy. "Don't forget; I've been around here longer than you have, Ash. That boy is nothing but trouble."

"No I don't remember wherever the hell you've been because until a few weeks ago, you were just another person my father sent a Christmas card to that never visited us," I insulted. "And you don't know anything about Ryder any more than you know of me."

I didn't want to hear anything else she had to say while also chastising myself for insulting the only living relative I had besides Ollie. I enclosed myself in my room, still without even so much of a bed and picked up the paintbrush. I then set out to finish painting my room. I think my anger and the fumes were getting to my head because I was starting to see a mirage of Ryder painting beside me, stealing glances and chuckling to himself when he was caught in the act. It was adorable. After a while, he would be painting high right above me as I took over the bottom trim, and then I felt a drop on my hand.

Gasping, I looked up and saw him laughing down at me with the paint dripping freely off the brush. I dipped mine in the nearest paint before marking his freely hanging arm. His eyes widened and I had a second of fear before I was feeling his liquid hand on my nose.

"You little—" I teased before an all out war ensued. There was seemingly more paint on him and me more than the walls and eventually, Ryder landed on top of me, laughing and moving gross paint hair out of my face while I laughed uncontrollably. I saw Ryder's brilliant smile and heard his pure laugh and felt completely uplifted until he reached down and touched his lips to mine. It was very brief and the feeling rising in my chest about laughing was something new and traveling south. I froze and looked up at him. His own face held a pondering expression like he didn't know whether or not that decision was a good one. And then all at once he didn't care because he dipped his head down to kiss me once more and it was me opening my eyes to wake up.

"Shit," I cussed, smacking the plastic covered carpet of my room. I was dreaming about Ryder.