A Christmas Song – Ryan’s Bed holiday Read Online Tijan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, College, Contemporary, Drama, Sports Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)

The first year was fun. Simple.I had a great roommate, and I was hooking up with a basketball player.Then life happened, and my whole trajectory changed.Gone was the hook-up. Gone was the roommate.My new goal in life wasn’t to enjoy it. It was to get through each day by being blissfully numb.It was working.Until I woke up in my ex’s bed one morning.No purse. No phone. No keys.No memory of what happened.First things I needed to get my ex off my vagi—back. I needed to get him off my back.I needed to get my things.I wasn’t sure if I wanted to remember the night before, but my ex was suddenly reminding me how he’s overbearing, arrogant, demanding, and hot.Damn. He’s still so hot.He’s also making me remember things that could have disastrous consequences.For him. For me.And most certainly for my heart…* A Christmas Song is a Ryan’s Bed + spin-off novella because it is written from Mackenzie’s point of view and Maren’s point of view (Mackenzie’s roommate.) Both girls will take the reader on the day after from the fallout of a prior night’s event and the end will surprise everyone.* Expect lots of Ryan and Mackenzie, but also get ready for Maren and Cristiano!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



Where the fuck was I?

I pushed up, sitting up, and everything was aching in me. It’s the hangover of all hangovers, and. . . I looked around. Jesus. Seriously. Where was I?

This wasn’t Jude’s room—I saw Cris’ basketball jersey.


I was in my ex’s room. Although, Cris Chavez and I had never really been in a relationship. We would hook up. Then he would ignore me…until we would hook up again.

The door opened and the smell of coffee hit me right before my stomach pushed up something else to my throat. “Mornin—”

I flung back the blanket and ran for the bathroom. Apparently, he had his own. I fell to my knees, and seeing Cris coming in behind me, I kicked his door shut right as I let loose with the first upheaval in my stomach.

“Hey!” He pounded on the door. “Come on, Maren. Let me in.”




What had I done? Honest to God asking here. I looked down at myself, seeing I wasn’t in the clothes I—what had I done last night?

“Maren!” He pounded on the door again.

I ignored him.

It’d been my go-to for handling so much other stuff in my life. Just shut up. Keep it moving. Head down. Survive.

So far it’d been working, but this? Cris? Did we fuck last night?

Jesus. Jude.

Jude! He had a gig last night. I went to the bar with Amber and Toya. We partied beforehand, but that’d been the usual. Nothing new there. I couldn’t remember past pre-partying at Toya’s. We were drinking. She pulled out some other things, but they partook. I didn’t. I stayed away from drugs. I had enough issues to handle. I didn’t need to add another one, but I was trying to remember. . . I’d been in a car. We were going to the bar. I was in the back and that was it.

I didn’t remember anything past that.

What the hell?

My body chilled at the same time panic seared me.

“Come on, Maren. Come out. I want to talk to you.”

I shut it all down, I had to. It’d been my go-to for just getting through life lately, but once I was done throwing up, I looked under Cris’ cabinet. He usually kept an extra toothbrush somewhere.

Found it.

He and I hadn’t been exclusive, but I got to know him from whatever we had been. I mean, the first time I saw him making out with a girl at a party, I’d felt kicked in the stomach, but I got my act together after that. We were in the NCAA division for basketball and Cris was on the team, a starting player. He wasn’t one of their best two players, but he was in the solid top five. He was their best power forward. I’d been ecstatic when we first started hooking up. His roommate and my roommate were already dating. Cris was hot. He seemed to like me. It made sense, but stupid me, I thought we’d been exclusive until. . . Yeah. Until I learned differently.

Ugh. Here I was, thinking about the past when I had real shit to handle.

After quickly brushing my teeth, I grimaced when I looked at myself. Pale. God. I changed my hair color to black with blue highlights. I was always a strawberry blonde type and I liked wearing make-up, but I blended last year. There was nothing that stood out about me. Typical party girl and when I changed my hair, I wanted to change everything. I started going darker with my make-up and though I usually enjoyed the smokey eye look, it was not looking so good this morning. I might need to rethink my make-up choices.

I tried to do what I could with my hair, and washed my face clean.

Cris started to pound on the door again when I thrust it open.

His eyes widened, his hand in mid-knock, and he blinked at me. “Hi.”

I scowled, brushing past him.

“Uh—what? Hey!”

I couldn’t be here.

I could not be here.

That was on repeat in my head as I rushed around his room, looking for my things. My clothes. My purse. My phone?


There was nothing here. I rounded on him. “Where’s my shit?”

Cris looked at me for a second before anger flared and he scowled at me. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Where’s my stuff, Chavez?” I huffed again, my hands on my hips. “You can’t take my things and keep them from me. Where are they?”

There was a tick of silence, and I looked away.

I couldn’t stare at him, not when he was getting pissed right back at me.

I’d forgotten how hot Cris was. He was six five. Wide shoulders. Lean frame, but he had some bulk on him. It’s why they made him a power forward. He was good at shoving his way around under the basket. Brown skin that sometimes was so sleek and smooth when he was sweating that he made me want to lick every inch of him. Black hair that he was letting grow out a little this year. It’d been kept short last year, almost a crew cut. This year, he had enough where it was messily rumpled, and I got one look and my vagina was remembering the last time we fucked.