Chapter 3

The voice supposedly belonging to Ryan is sexy and deep, giving him an air of solid confidence, and gosh, his vocals are so easy on the ears that speaking suddenly got more challenging.

"Ryan?" I croak and feel my cheeks heat up when I hear my own echo in the background. Embarrassingly enough, I had sounded more like a frog than a girl.

"Yeah?" Ryan appears amused. "Did you worry someone else might have called you?"

"No, I just... How are you?"

I inwardly facepalm myself for my awkwardness.

"I'm good, excellent, actually. I came home from the gym mere minutes ago, and now I'm making myself some dinner," Ryan seems like a very extroverted person, the opposite of me. "Is everything good with you?"

His question isn't a hard one, yet I'm experiencing a brain freeze.

The sound of something getting cooked in the background is the first thing I notice when the silence folds, along with the fact Ryan likes to hum to himself.

"Y-Yeah, everything is fine," I manage to utter. Ryan can't see me, yet I tensely brush a strand of brown hair behind my ear. "What are you cooking?"

Ryan chuckles. "I don't have a name for it yet. There is no recipe. I came up with this dish myself!"

"Oh," Despite my quick heartbeats, I calm down enough to blow out some steam and giggle myself. "So I take it you like to cook?"

"I love it more than anything, but let's not talk about me. I want to know more about you. If my mother gave you a phone with my number, then you must be a beauty,"

His straightforwardness makes me blush. "What?" There is no calming down now. "No, I'm pretty normal-looking—why would you think I'm a beauty?!"

I nervously laugh, but Ryan sounds perfectly calm on his end of the phone.

"Because my mother giving you a phone and my number is an act of desperation. She has been trying to find me a woman for years, angry that I won't settle down, and for her to take this huge leap, you must be someone extraordinary,"

I'm heating up. I need to stop reacting like this, I tell myself fiercely. Ryan is the first man I've talked with, but that doesn't mean I can let my guard down and get fired up by everything he says.

"I'm not special either," I tell him.

Most people I've met have called me pretty, but I wouldn't describe myself as a woman sexy and lush enough for guys to dream about. Instead, I'm delicate and short, like a northerner. I inherited my mother's chocolate brown hair and emerald eyes.

Well, if I'm allowed to call her my mother when I've never met her. I was born in a lab, created, artificial, not a natural person.

Ryan whistles. "Low self-confidence, huh?"

"S-Sorry," I stutter, another bad habit of mine. "To tell you the truth, I'm not used to this,"

"Used to what?" He is laughing again, sounding amused. "Speaking to people?"

"Yeah... I've never talked to a guy before,"

He let out a steamy, long breath into the phone. "Holy shit. Are you some kind of nun or something? Religious? Part of some sect?!"

"No, nothing like that," My position is probably way worse, yet I'm happily smiling. Talking to Ryan is fun. "I come from a rigorous family though, and since... Um... Since I was sick as a child, I haven't gone out much or met many people,"

That last part was a complete lie, but I don't know how to explain my situation to Ryan.

"But can't you go out and meet people now?"

Shit!

How do I get out of this?

"Yes, I suppose that's true... But my fear of the outside world keeps me from stepping outside. And now I've been inside for so long that I've grown terrified of everything outside,"

I have a special place in hell waiting for me. Ryan is the first guy I talk with, and I'm already lying.

"Oh," It sounds like Ryan is eating now. "That's terrible... I kinda understand why my mother gave you a phone now—you sound like someone in desperate need of good company,"

I laugh. "I do need good company. Does anyone come to mind?"

Ryan snorts. "How surprising, the lady knows how to crack a joke!"

I laugh with him. It feels good making friends with someone.

"In all honesty, though," Ryan begins. "I'm good company and quite good-looking too,"

I roll my eyes. In-person I wouldn't be this brave talking to Ryan, but the phone is giving me courage. "Are you already self-promoting yourself?"

"Who else will do the job?"

I'm smiling so hard it hurts. "That's true, I suppose,"

"Mhm, so make a list and start it like this: not only is Ryan funny talking with, he is also highly talented in the kitchen and drop-dead gorgeous with an anaconda between his legs,"

Wait.

What did he just say?!

Tears are sprouting from my eyes. I'm laughing so hard it's hurting my ribcage. "You can't say that about yourself!"

"Why not?"

"Because only people who are full of themselves would say that!"

"What if I am full of myself?" Ryan taunts in this sexy voice that I'm sure has made women remove their panties in the past. "Is self-confidence a problem for you?"

I ignore my inner palpations and the ongoing fever. "Not really, no,"

"Then why are we discussing this over the topic of the color of your underwear?"

He must be joking. "Hey, slow down, Romeo! We aren't there yet!"

"Yet," Ryan teases. "Does that mean you want us to get there?"

I bite my lower lip with a slight headshake. It's embarrassing how I love where this conversation took off, but I also know it's way too early for the flirting—Ryan treats me like one would a one-night stand.

I open my mouth after licking my lips. "Maybe... I don't know yet..."

"Right," Ryan is stifling his laughter, probably with his hand. "I'm sorry. I got ahead of myself,"

"It's alright,"

"It's just that... "Ryan hesitates before he continues. "I thought this is what you had in mind when you called me, flirting,"

I freeze; perhaps these kinds of conversations are typical this early on. I wouldn't know, I have never talked with a man before!

"Oh..." I swallow thickly. Honesty is always the answer. "I do like flirting, but I'm not really used to anyone taking an interest in me,"

It's true. And never once have I considered myself pretty. Whenever I look into the mirror, I see Amelia, the reflection of the person I'm not, and it fragments my soul every time. Someday, I want to be renamed and reborn as someone else.

"With a voice like yours, I'm surprised you're not more used to it,"

I heat up. "Wow..." Ryan is such a smooth-talker and scarily intense in a way I find oddly attractive. "T-Thank you,"

"So tell me, pretty girl, with a beautiful laugh," There is a faint mocking tone in his voice, but it's friendly. "What is the thing you love the most in this wonderful world?"

I smile. My father never asks about my opinion these days, I'm too unlike the original Amelia, but Ryan is interested in me. And to see if he would like me, the cloned Amelia, I will give him an answer my father would hate.

"Dogs," I tell him. "They are always so carefree and happy, and I like how they seem to love every person they meet. They don't discriminate and won't care about your history—dogs live in the moment,"

Ryan falls silent for a while. "That's a deep answer,"

"And I'm a deep person... Is that a problem for you?"

Ryan chuckles; it's a silent sound. "No, but it wasn't what I expected,"

"And what did you expect?"

"Well, girls usually love expensive clothes and pieces of jewelry,"

I snort. It sounds like Ryan is talking about the original Amelia now, the lady and not the tomboy. "And what women have you met?"

"The wrong kind, it seems," It sounds like there is a welcoming smile in his voice. "And what kind of men do you find attractive?"

I pause. "What kind of question is that?!"

Ryan laughs. "You said flirting is fine, and I need to know if I have a chance or not,"

"Oh," I hum dramatically to add excitement. "I like-..." Images of my father slamming me into the wall reach into my mind, but I quickly recover with my heart beating fast. "Kind Men. It doesn't matter what they look like as long as they have a good heart,"

"Ah, so it's fine if I'm an old geezer?"

I shriek. "No-no-no! Okay! I take that back!" I'm hyperventilating, and frankly, a bit freaked out. "Are you old? I mean... How old are you?"

Ryan is laughing now. "Relax, since my mother handed you that phone, I think we are around the same age. I'm twenty-nine,"

"That makes sense," I mumble. And shit. Ryan is older than me. Hopefully, he won't stop talking with me when he finds out. Gosh, I really don't want to tell him I'm only nineteen now. "I'm -..."

"Yes?"

"Do I have to tell you?" I laugh.

"Are you above eighteen?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Then we are good," He replies and then laughs. "And before you ask what I look like..." It seems like he is tapping on his phone. "There, I sent you a picture!"

My pulse skyrockets at the anticipation of getting to see what the mysterious Ryan looks like. What is wrong with me? This is going way too fast. Yet, I'm dying to know.

"Oh... I will have a look then,"

Ryan chuckles. "Your choice of words... You're seriously cute..."

Due to the blushing, I choose not to answer and instead stare down at the phone while holding it in my hand.

Moments later, my phone vibrates with an image sent from Ryan. I click on it while he is munching on his food and nearly lose the ability to breathe.

"Hm?" Ryan utters from the phone. "Seeing anything you like?"

Holy Hell.

The picture is of a man standing in a pool. Someone, probably Ryan, has doodled over the face, but damn, the man's torso is ripped with muscles... Tanned... Sun-kissed... Glorious. The image almost looks manipulated because the man is just too perfect. I haven't seen many half-naked men in my days, but even I know it takes dedication to get abs and a killer chest like that!

The sent image doesn't show his nether regions—it is cut short above his swimming trunks, leaving some for the imagination with a sexy trail of dark hair flowing down the center of his defined v muscle. Dear Lord, this man got the entire package!

I can't stop staring at the picture.

When his mother handed me the phone, I didn't expect her son to be a sex god. In fact, I believed him to be this anti-social person living in his mother's basement!

I can't believe this—it needs to be a stolen picture!

When I finally regain the ability to pry my eyes away from the chiseled figure of a man, I lick my sand-dry lips.

"T-That can't be you," I stammer.

Ryan laughs for the billionth time today. "Why not?"

"It just can't be you!" I exclaim, annoyed that I'm hot and bothered by a simple picture.

Ryan hums in amusement as if thinking about something sinful. "Well, would you want to find out?"