Winning Back Ryan

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Book: Read Winning Back Ryan for Free Online
Authors: S.L. Siwik
He threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. A moment later he muttered, “Shit, now I owe that douchebag fifty bucks.” I giggled knowing that he referred to his bet with Ben.  He pulled me back, his hands on my arms. “I’m glad you showed up,” he said warmly and tossed his head in Ben’s direction.
                  I glanced over to find our friend playing the air guitar. Ben was, by far, the wildest of my friends, and wore a t-shirt of a band no one had ever heard of with a pair of ripped jeans that he owned for as long as I had known him. Ben had a tongue ring and blue streaks through his brown, disheveled, spiky hair.  He always had that ‘I just got out of bed from sleeping with your girlfriend all night long’ look about him. 
                  Ben was one of the most unique people I had ever met in my life, but maybe that’s because I had never met a millionaire playboy before him. After attending NYU, Ben then attended NYU Law School and was at the top of his class in his first year. And just like I had attended every single one of Brian’s track meets all four years, I also attended every single one of Ben’s debate competitions.
                  I always thought that law was a strange career choice for someone as wild as him. He played the guitar and was a talented artist, so I always thought that he would pursue some creative field. It’s not as if he needed money. But, despite his sloppy appearance-God, did I hate those jeans- and normally loose-cannon behavior, he was very gifted at law. He could remember the most obscure laws on the books. I knew because I’ve helped him study for exams quite a few times in the past six months.
                  But, his artistic side or his wild side weren’t the only reasons why he was the most unique person in my life. He was an oddity. Despite his fortune and fame, Ben never flounced it. He would rather be at the grungy bars then the five -star restaurants. He took public transportation more often than his limousine.  For all the money he had, he spent an exorbitant amount of effort appearing poor.
                  He was a socialite, coming from a very long line of politicians, lawyers, judges, presidential advisors... His money was as old as the Civil War itself, and his family’s history, just like his own, was checkered. Depending on whom you asked, the Hurleys were either a Godsend or a plague on society. Either way, his family name was an American icon, a legacy. I didn’t care about the fame or the money. Ben was my friend because he was a good person; that was all that mattered to me. Despite our radically different lifestyles, childhoods, and different point of views on nearly everything under the sun, Ben, like me, understood the value of loyalty. Judas’ betrayal is why Jesus died after all.
                  “Listen to this! Just close your eyes and listen,” Ben instructed. “This song reminds me of tonight.”
    I glanced around nervous that I’d be trampled, and Ben seeing my concern placed his hands on my arms to steady me.
                  “Now listen.” I closed my eyes. “Tell me. Who do these instruments remind you of?”
    I listened to a wailing guitar- strong in some parts, softer in others. I realized somehow that the guitar wailed of loss and went back and forth between anger and acceptance.
                  “Me,” I answered quietly.
                  “Good. Now who are you reminded of?” he asked again.
    As soon as the solo was done, the bass guitar joined in. Its notes were steady and constant, not at all like the still up and down guitar. I realized that my friends were the bass- sources of reason and comfort in my emotional chaos.
                  “Max and Brian,” I answered.
                  “Good. Keep going.” Ben’s hands were still on my shoulders keeping me steady in the

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