Handcuffs, Kisses and Awkward Situations (PUBLISHED, SAMPLE)

Chapter [3]

Because this book is now published, content stops after chapter twenty. Please proceed with this information in mind.  

T h r e e

            When Mrs. Westfield announced she had a headache, the officers agreed that it would be best to put the situation on hold until the following morning. The adults seemed to have no problem getting back to their normal routines, like none of the handcuff business never happened. Ryder and I, on the other hand, weren't so fortunate to forget the issue.

            "Suck in your bum cheeks!" Ryder ordered, awkwardly trying to push on my backside.

            We were in a seriously uncomfortable position. There I was, my butt casually hanging out the driver's side of his little Porsche while he was screaming at me to suck my bum cheeks in. Since our wrists were still chained together, my hand was on the driver's side chair, Ryder's hand forced to move with mine, so we were pretty much cheek to cheek. Well, butt cheek to face cheek anyways.

We had been yelling at each other for ten minutes, just trying to squeeze into the compacted space of the vehicle. The dude obviously had never been in the situation I was in, because he evidently didn't know how impossible it was to suck in your butt cheeks.

            "Ryder," I said, attempting to clench my bum muscles together, "I'm trying to suck it, okay? I mean, I'm sucking in places I didn't even know I could suck!"

            He shoved my butt one last time and sighed. Finally taking his hand off me, I crawled out of the little space of his car, ungracefully knocking my elbow into the chair and accidentally smacking my hand onto the horn. When I was out, I rolled my chained wrist, trying to relieve the pain it was going through.

            "We need to take a bus," I declared. "Admit it; we aren't going to get into your little Batmobile."

            "We can't just leave my baby here!" he argued, running his hand over the sleek, black coat of his car.

            "How do you suggest we go home then?" I hissed.

            Ryder looked over his shoulder just to glare at me before his fingers slowly slid off the car's edge. Reluctantly, he picked up his bag from the top of his Porsche and swung it over his shoulder. He looked extremely displeased, but he knew it was the only way to get out of there.

            Together, we caught the next bus on our way home. Well, to my home. We agreed it would be best if we went to my house for the night, while my parents were on a week-long vacation for their anniversary. So, while they were chilling on the beach in California being lazy boobs, I was stuck here chained to a boob.

            It was a short ride home, considering it was the last bus and didn't have many people. We departed the vehicle on the fourth stop, right at the corner of my street. A few primary students had gotten off the bus with us. As soon as their feet hit the footpath, they raced down the hill, squealing in joy. I watched and smiled, remembering when Ryder and I used to do the exact same thing.

            "Remember how Mr. Nelson used to yell at us when we raced down this hill?" Ryder piped in, as if he had been having flashbacks about our childhood friendship too.

            "I remember," I answered, a grin stretching out over my face. "He used to come out in his bathrobe and fluffy slippers just to wave his newspaper around and scream at us."

            Ryder let out a chuckle; the kind of deep, passionate laugh that rumbled in his throat and reached his eyes. "Man, that dude was psycho."