~GARDEN~
Scarlett stood in black leggings, ponytail up, calm as stone. Mason tossed her the ball.
"You sure about this?" Ryder asked, already cracking his knuckles.
"Let's just say... I've played before."
What she didn't mention was that she was the captain of her high school girls' basketball team and played every Saturday at the park for fun.
Five minutes in, Ryder was sweating and losing. Badly.
"Okay," he panted. "You cheated."
"You tripped," Scarlett said, dribbling. "On your own ego."
Mason laughed so hard he nearly dropped his phone, filming the whole thing.
---
Final Score: Scarlett – 21, Ryder – 9
Scarlett walked past him, victorious. "Laundry. One month. No bleach disasters."
Ryder huffed and pulled off his shirt, trying to distract her. "Sure you don't want to change the favor?"
She didn't even blink. "Put your shirt back on. You're scaring the birds."
---
That Night
Ryder stood in the laundry room, poking buttons like they were bombs.
Scarlett leaned in the doorway, sipping juice. "Need help?"
"I hate you," he muttered.
"You'll get over it," she smiled.
He turned, and despite the banter, there was something soft in his eyes.
"You're really not like anyone else," he said quietly.
Scarlett tilted her head. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was."
The moment stretched.
Then Ryder broke it, grinning. "Still, I'm totally getting revenge. Just wait."
"I'll be ready," she said, turning to leave.
And as he watched her go, Ryder realized… he didn't want to win anymore.
Not really.
Not if it meant losing her.
---
~NEXT MORNING ~
Scarlett woke up to the sound of blaring music downstairs.
She checked the time.
6:48 a.m.
"What in the chaos—"
She grabbed her robe, stomped downstairs, and found Ryder in the kitchen shirtless, wearing pajama pants and dancing with Fredrick, the older cook, to old-school pop music.
Fredrick spun like he was twenty again, holding a whisk like a microphone.
"Morning, sunshine!" Ryder called out. "Coffee's almost done. Fredrick made banana pancakes. I handled the vibe."
Scarlett blinked. "Is there a reason you're living like it's Saturday morning cartoons hour?"
"It's Pancake Day," Fredrick said cheerfully.
"It's Wednesday," Scarlett replied.
"Still counts!" Ryder grinned. "And I figured… since I started your laundry last night, you earned a breakfast party."
Scarlett rubbed her forehead. "You are exhausting."
"Admit it," Ryder said, sliding her a plate. "You're starting to like me."
She took the plate with a scowl. "I'm starting to tolerate you."
He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. "Close enough."
---
Later that Afternoon – College Campus
Scarlett was halfway through reading a chapter in the library when someone dropped into the seat across from her with way too much confidence.
"Hey, stranger," the boy said with a wink.
Tall. Messy brown curls. Mischievous blue eyes. And a smirk almost as dangerous as Ryder's.
"Do I know you?" Scarlett asked.
"Liam," he said. "I'm in your psych class. You corrected the professor last week. I was impressed."
Scarlett blinked. "That was nothing."
"It was everything," Liam grinned. "So. Coffee sometime?"
Before she could answer, Ryder's voice came from behind her. Low and unreadable.
"She's busy."
Scarlett turned. "What are you doing here?"
"I needed a book. And coffee. Apparently both are occupied," Ryder replied coolly, staring at Liam like he was fungus.
Liam raised a brow. "Friend of yours?"
Ryder crossed his arms. "Something like that."
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. "Play nice."
"Oh, I'm always nice," Ryder said, not looking away from Liam. "Just not always patient."
Liam stood. "No worries. I'll see you around, Scarlett."
She watched him go, then turned on Ryder. "What was that?"
"Just keeping an eye on my nanny," Ryder said, walking past her toward the exit.
"Ryder—"
"Coffee's on me. Let's go before you start making googly eyes at another guy in flannel."
Scarlett followed, fuming—and flustered.
---
That Evening – Mansion Patio
Scarlett sat by the fountain, legs crossed, laptop on her knees.
Ryder came out quietly, setting a can of juice next to her.
"I didn't mean to be rude earlier," he said, eyes on the stars.
"You were jealous."
"I was protective."
"Same thing."
He sat beside her. "Fine. Maybe I didn't like the way he looked at you."
Scarlett didn't reply.
Instead, she sipped the juice. "Peach?"
He nodded. "You said it was your favorite. Once. Months ago."
Scarlett looked at him, something soft breaking through her walls.
"You're annoying," she said gently.
"And you're hard to forget."
They sat in silence, stars twinkling above.
And for once, no teasing, no flirting.
Just… quiet understanding.
---
Scarlett wasn't sure how she ended up standing in the middle of a living room covered in gold balloons, streamers, and confetti—but somehow she had Liam to thank.
He had texted her, "Come by the café near campus. Emergency."
It wasn't a café.
It was a party.
Ryder's birthday party.
And she had absolutely no idea.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" she hissed to Mason, who handed her a noisemaker like it was a peace offering.
"Because it's a surprise party," Mason said. "The only person who doesn't know is Ryder."
Scarlett scowled. "I meant why didn't I know."
Vivian suddenly appeared beside them, dressed in a silver mini-dress and heels too tall to function. "Because we didn't want you to ruin it with your nanny mood swings."
Scarlett raised a brow. "I see you're still losing at fashion roulette."
Vivian's smile dropped. "Careful, sweetie."
Before Scarlett could deliver another verbal jab, the door opened.
And Ryder walked in.
He stopped.
Blinking at the massive "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RYDER!" sign and all the people yelling "SURPRISE!"
His eyes swept the room—past Mason, past the crowd, and landed right on her.
Scarlett.
In a deep green top, hair in a low bun, eyes tired but glowing under the fairy lights.
His smile grew slowly.
"I hate surprises," he said, smirking, "but I'll make an exception for this."
---
One Hour Later – Backyard Pool Area
Scarlett sipped soda by the edge of the pool, watching people dance, swim, flirt, and laugh.
Ryder had been swallowed by the crowd, playing host, being pulled in all directions.
She didn't mind. She liked the quiet.
Until she heard his voice behind her.
"You disappeared."
She turned to find him holding two cupcakes.
"Needed air," she said.
"Brought you chocolate. It's the only thing you don't argue with."
She took the cupcake without looking at him. "Happy birthday."
He nudged her shoulder with his. "So… you planned this?"
Scarlett shook her head. "Liam did. I just showed up."
Ryder's jaw tightened slightly. "Of course."
Scarlett looked at him finally. "What is it with you and Liam?"
"I don't like him."
"Because he's nice to me?"
"No," Ryder said, facing her. "Because he's not me."
She stared at him.
And for once… no comeback.
No sass.
Just tension.
Real, heavy, undeniable tension.
---
Inside the Mansion – Later That Night
Everyone had gone home. The lights were dimmed. The music off.
Scarlett wandered through the quiet mansion, checking on the kitchen, the mess, the hallway—
And stopped in front of Ryder's slightly open door.
She wasn't eavesdropping. Not really.
But she heard voices.
Two male voices.
Ryder. And Mason.
"Did you tell her?" Mason asked.
"No."
"She'll find out eventually. You can't hide it forever."
"I'm not hiding it," Ryder said. "I just… don't want her to look at me like I'm some broken charity case."
Scarlett stepped back.
What was Ryder hiding?
She didn't know what it was—but something told her everything was about to change.
---
Scarlett couldn't sleep.
She stared at her ceiling, Ryder's voice echoing in her head.
> "I just… don't want her to look at me like I'm some broken charity case."
What did that even mean?
She rolled over, annoyed with herself. She wasn't nosy by nature—well, maybe a little—but when it came to Ryder, her curiosity wasn't just about secrets.
It was about him.
The version of Ryder that didn't flirt. The one who brought her peach juice and remembered her favorite cupcake. The one who danced in the kitchen with Fredrick like a goofy teenager and threw towels at her when she beat him in basketball.
There was more to him than the headlines and heartbreaker smile.
And she hated how badly she wanted to figure him out.
---
The Next Day – College Campus
Scarlett walked into the student café, laptop in hand and her mood set to "don't talk to me unless you have caffeine."
Unfortunately, Liam took that as an invitation.
"Morning, professor." He slid into the booth beside her, holding two drinks.
"I'm not your professor."
"Could've fooled me. You're always correcting someone."
She gave him a side-glance. "If you're trying to flirt, it's not working."
"Who said I was flirting?"
Scarlett blinked.
Liam grinned. "Okay, I was. But only halfway. The other half just really wants to know what you're thinking all the time."
Scarlett frowned. "That's not charming. That's borderline stalker."
"You're laughing, though."
"I'm not."
"You are."
She fought a smile and failed.
They talked for nearly an hour—books, weird professors, childhood stories—and for the first time in a while, Scarlett felt… relaxed.
No chaos. No dramatic tantrums. No shirtless distractions.
Just Liam. Calm and harmless.
---
Meanwhile – Ryder's Point of View
Ryder sat in the back of his economics class, pretending to listen while texting Mason under the table.
Ryder: Where is she?
Mason: At the café. With Liam.
Ryder: Of course she is.
He didn't know what irritated him more—the fact that Liam was smooth and polite, or the fact that Scarlett smiled around him.
Not that fake "I'm tolerating you" smile she gave Ryder.
A real one.
Soft. Unbothered. Effortless.
He closed his phone and muttered, "Screw this," loud enough for the student next to him to scoot away a little.
---
Later That Night – Mansion Library
Scarlett sat cross-legged on the floor, organizing old files that Fredrick asked her to help with, when Ryder appeared in the doorway.
"You were gone a long time," he said.
"I was studying."
"With Liam?"
She looked up, eyes steady. "Yes."
Ryder stepped inside, leaning against the wall. "You like him?"
Scarlett raised a brow. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," he said too quickly. "I just think you should know something."
She waited.
Ryder didn't say it.
Just stared at the ground like it might speak for him.
"You're hiding something, Ryder," Scarlett said. "And I don't care if you're a playboy or rich or allergic to laundry detergent, but don't lie to me."
He looked up, jaw clenched.
"I'm not lying. I just… don't want to be seen for the worst part of myself. Not by you."
Scarlett stood slowly, dusted her hands, and walked toward him.
She stopped just in front of him.
"You don't have to be perfect," she said softly. "You just have to be real."
And before he could say anything—
She walked away.
Leaving him stunned.
And scared.
Because for the first time, Ryder Stone—the unshakable, untouchable, wildly adored playboy—was falling.
And it had nothing to do with her lips or legs.
It had everything to do with her.