Chapter Three: Be Yourself
(Ryan)
I spent a good week and a half kicking my own butt and debating ways that I could get in touch with Stan. I had some doozies. One of my craziest ideas was where I went to Yeger Enterprises, asked to see him and walked into his office saying, “Hey, remember me?”, but I didn’t want to give him a stalker vibe so I tossed it out and tried to think of sanner ones.
Like asking Trev for Stan’s number. Makes perfect sense, right? But here’s the crazy thing: Even though I thought I’d lost out on what might’ve been my only chance to talk to him and wanted to find a way to contact him, I couldn’t actually bring myself to do it.
Each day back at Bridgeport, doubt quickly started to chisel away at any sureness I felt about what happened that weekend and I kept telling myself crazy things to help numb my disappointment. Maybe I hadn’t really felt anything when we shook hands. I could’ve imagined it. Up until that point, my attention had been on trying to mask my interest so it was completely possible that I saw or felt something that hadn’t happened.
Those smiles that popped out from his beard. . .it could’ve been him being polite. Maybe he smiled at everyone that way. I wouldn’t know, since my only interactions with him were that weekend and while I could’ve observed how he smiled at everyone else, I’d been too preoccupied with him smiling at me.
There was also the fact that he was Trev’s friend too and he could’ve asked Trev for my number. But since I was too chicken to do it myself, I made up excuses about him not having time, or maybe he was like me and hadn’t worked up the courage to ask. But that didn’t sound like him. I barely knew him but I could already tell that he wasn’t the type of man who lacked confidence.
I like to tell myself that I would’ve eventually given in and asked Trev for Stan’s number but the truth is, I’ll never know because someone beat me to the punch.
Chapter Two: Meeting Ryan Andrews
(Stan)
There’s at least two sides to every story, sometimes more depending on how many people are involved. Ours has more than just Ryan’s and mine, but we’re the two that matter the most, and it’s why I can’t let Ryan tell it alone.
Not that I don’t trust him! I do, and I know he’ll tell it in his usual funny and easy going way, but you’ll never get the full story unless I tell you my side of it. After all, no two people can tell the same story the exact same way.
I could also start at the beginning of my story, giving you background information about my family, where I grew up and how that all impacted the person I was when I met Ryan, but like him, I’ll skip ahead; since all that can be revealed like it was for us as we got to know each other.
Instead, let me start with something that I’d learned about meeting people and their eyes, because it’s very accurate for when I met Ryan.
I’ve always been a firm believer that a person’s eyes could tell you a lot about who they are. People could study and practice ways to control their expressions, but nine times out of ten, their eyes gave away what they were really thinking or feeling. Giving you a glimpse into the deeper parts of themselves that they tried to hide away.
The eyes told you a story, even if the fragments revealed didn’t quite fit together or tell a cohesive tale, and it was up to the observer to decide if they wanted to spend the time to figure it out or move on. Personally, I’d learned long ago that it was usually worth the effort to dig a little deeper.
So when a set of determined, cloudy, blue eyes first met mine while standing in Trev’s foyer, I couldn’t help but wonder at them. They were friendly, sparkled with hints of the intelligence and wit as Trev introduced us, but there was also an underlying resolution in them that I couldn’t initially place; that dared me to take the time to delve deeper and find out who he really was.
I’d already heard a little about Ryan Andrews from Trev, which I guessed gave me the advantage from the way he looked shocked when his attention focused on me.
Everything I’d been told was good. I knew that Trev trusted and respected Ryan, that he’d been one of Trev’s biggest supporters not only during the past year, but also in the couple before that. What I hadn’t known before was just how good looking he was.
I wasn’t a huge football fan. I watched it and even went to games, but I couldn’t tell you what anyone’s stats were or how many seasons a player had been with the Bucks or any other team.
I didn’t pay much attention to what players did off the field either, so my only views of Ryan came from seeing him on the field, the sidelines and on TV.
That’s why being less than five feet away from him was an eye opening experience. He was tall; much taller than I thought he would be. He and Trev were the same height, six foot five, which Trev might have mentioned before, but I’d always pictured Ryan shorter for some reason.
I had to look up a little to keep eye contact which was a strange experience for me, since most of the men I knew were either around my height or shorter.
Along with being tall, he was unbelievably muscular. If we hadn’t been in the middle of being introduced and the center of attention, I would’ve continued my admiration below the waist.
But I already knew from watching him play on TV that his lower muscle density matched his upper and could be patient and discreet about getting a better look.
