All Chapters of Boys of RDA: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

For a comic book store Cosmo's Comics and Café is a well-lit open space. It's a thin narrow building, longer than it is wide, but the large shop window and glass front door make one entire end open to the early Sunday morning sunlight. It smells like coffee and paper, and who doesn't love those smells?When Aspen first suggested our new location, I was hesitant. My appreciation for Cosmo's has grown since then to a point I enjoy our Sunday brunch dates here.Well every week except this one. Today dragging myself to Cosmo's feels like a walk into my own execution. Aspen will drill me on Ryland and what's going on in England. I haven't talked to Ryland since he boarded a plane for London yesterday morning. After the eight-hour flight and time change, I'm not even sure where he is. Late last night he sent me a text with a simple "I love you. Sleep well." and nothing more.It takes a deep breath, but I gather the courage to open the door. Cosmo's is gloomier today, not all the overhe

"Ryland." I yell his name into the empty condo space when my hot new husband doesn't greet me as I step off the elevator.I haven't figured out where he's storing the damn orange kayak, but every day I suffer from nightmares I'll walk in to a matching one waiting for me. No way am I paddling for my life on the bay. I've seen the YouTube videos. There are sharks out there. Throwing my purse on the kitchen counter, I yell for him again."In here," his faint response comes from the master bedroom.The bedroom resembles mine so much my steps falter and I stop right outside the doorway. Clothes are strewn over the floor in a large disorganized pile. Others are stacked in nice neat rows on the bed categorized by item. There's a pile for shirts, shiny basketball shorts, jerseys, and even a few pairs of jeans. None of this is my fault. I haven't moved my clothes over yet. After the excitement of Ryland's return home yesterday, we planned to do most of it tonight.I scan the room again

VOLUME FOUR: QUESTQuest: A long or arduous search created for either story or character advancement.San Francisco isn't known for its sunny days, but a massive cloud has been hanging over my life since the night I met Grant Moore.Darkness closes in and I resort to bargaining. "Get me through tonight without seeing Grant and I'll never eat another Oreo again," I promise the ceiling.It doesn't answer back."But only the regular ones. The birthday cake flavor is still on the table," I renegotiate our deal.The room is brightly lit, but shadows linger in each corner. In my mind they reach out for me like long distorted hands of an unknown beast. The action figures lined up in neat rows on the walls stare at us, their blank eyes tracking each movement. Well... for what it's worth I'm pretty sure Hellboy is supposed to look demonic.A loud tapping sound heralds the end to my privacy on the couch. Aspen barks out an order for no whip on her hot chocolate and I sigh, not read

"Honey, I'm home." The front door of our large blue Victorian house closes with a loud bang.My job as the youth center's director may not pay much money, but my ability to live in this house makes it worth it. Sure, we don't own the place, but with three other roommates the rent is totally affordable. Living in a San Francisco Victorian period home is a dream come true. All those nights spent watching Full House in Mrs. Haverbush's living room where I dreamt about having Danny Tanner for a dad and their awesome house. My foster mom is a wonderful woman, but her house in Oakland felt worlds away from the life Stephanie Tanner was living. I never got the dad, but the house makes up for it."So did you sleep with him?" Drew steps out of the kitchen, a small container of Ben and Jerry's in his hand."No. Of course not. It's 5 p.m. on Saturday night. Who do you think I am?" I yank the delicious frozen pint from his hand. "For that I'm stealing your ice cream.""Grant is a good-look

But Grant would never want to live in a turn-of-the-century house with a leaky faucet, squeaky steps, and outdated heating system. For a moment shame weighs on me, but then I remember how much I love the arches, original woodwork, and our huge front porch.It's not that Grant Moore is too good for our house, but we're too good for him. He'll probably end up in a modern, bland, featureless place. It will have smooth walls and straight floors, and it'll lack character."Well I hope you're able to find a place up to your standards soon.""Yeah me too, but let's talk about much more important topics. Why you weren't at brunch yesterday.""It's personal," I'm quick to retort. Who the hell is he to question where I am or am not?Grant slows his steps and glances at me from the corner of his eye. "Aspen said you were sick."I must come up with new stack of excuses. "Women problems." That should shut him up and stop the twenty questions I expect he'll start any second."Oh..." Hi