"Yeah." Ryan runs his hand through his wavy hair. He looks to me. "I guess we should try this out."
"We have time to chat." She looks to me and raises a brow then turns to Ryan. "You brought Leighton coffee. That's sweet."
"She always forgets to make it," he says.
"This is that Philz place." She stares at my brown cup. "That's primo stuff."
"You must drink it ten times a day when you're at Walker's."
"They don't have cold brew." She shakes her head. "But if I really want something hot, it's great."
"You have one?" I ask him.
"In the car. It's yours if you want it," he says.
"Generous too." She stares into Ryan's eyes. "You're already a model boyfriend."
"Thanks." He shifts his weight to his other foot. "How's school?"
"It's July," she says.
"Your—"
"Internship. It's good."
"You and Walker?"
Iris lets out a dreamy sigh. She presses her hands together. Looks at the plain white ceiling like it's a sky full of stars.
"You really do have the obnoxious happiness down pat," I say.
"Thank you." She smiles. "You try it. Leighton first." She turns to me. "How are you and Ryan?"
I let my head fill with beautiful mental images—the two of us walking along the beach on a starry night, his hands around my waist, his lips on my neck, his words in my ear. I need you more than I've ever needed anything.
My hand goes to my heart.
My lips part with a sigh.
"Amazing." My gaze goes to Ryan. To his piercing blue eyes, his long wavy hair, his soft lips. I get nearly two months of this. How can I turn that down?
"You go, Ryan." Iris nods to Ryan. "How's everything with Leighton?"
"Good." His voice is less dreamy. More awkward. He looks to her.
She shakes her head. "Try again."
He turns back to me. Shrugs his shoulders. Slides a hand into his pocket.
His lips curl into a half smile. "Shit with Leigh is perfect." He stares into my eyes. "She's the sun in my sky."
My cheeks flush.
"The silver lining on a rain cloud." He moves closer. His hand skims my hip. "She's everything."
I stare up into his eyes.
I get lost in those beautiful eyes.
He leans in like he's going to kiss me.
Moves closer.
Closer—
"Ahem. Let's try another." Iris shoots me a be careful look.
My body goes cold as Ryan releases me.
He isn't mine.
He isn't going to be mine.
I have to get used to that.
Chapter Eleven
Leighton
Kurt Cobain mumbles over heavy guitars as Ryan turns onto a cozy Beverly Hills street. We park under the shade of a lush tree. It's as green as anything gets around here.
He turns off the car, ending Kurt Cobain's wail.
"Better." He presses his back into his seat. Fidgets with the keys in his right hand.
"Who doesn't like Nirvana?"
"It's fine."
"Fine?"
"Doesn't do it for me."
"Playlist on the way back. Trust me. You'll feel positively normal compared to how fucked-up some of these guys are."
"Just guys?"
"And girls. But when it's a guy… I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm a girl, but women tend to have more of an I'm better off without you attitude. Whereas guys can be very—"
"I hope you die in a car crash?"
"I've got one like that."
"Did a lyric tattoo the other day."
"Someone wanted that on their body forever?"
He nods.
"And you say you're hopeless."
His laugh is more sad than anything.
My stomach twists. My fingers slide over the center console. I want to touch him. To stop him from closing off.
But there's something about his expression. Like he's screaming leave me alone.
I unclick my seatbelt. Slide my purse onto my shoulder. "You ready?"
"No." He undoes his seatbelt. "But I'm not gonna be."
"We don't have to—"
"I do."
"Okay." I reach for the door, step onto the pavement, smooth my dress.
Sunlight falls over Ryan as he gets out of the car. It bounces off his light skin. Sinks into his dark clothes.
He offers me his hand as he steps onto the street.
I intertwine my fingers with his. My skin buzzes from the contact. My body fails to understand we're pretending. My pulse races. My stomach flutters. My breath catches in my throat.
It's hot today.
And with Ryan this close—
God, I'm on fire.
I move closer. Fall into step next to him.
We turn the corner, walk past a lingerie shop, a yoga studio, a cafe.
There it is, the bakery chain doing the wedding's catering. The shop is all white and pink, lace curtains, soft colors, three, four, and five tier cakes in the windows.
Ryan pulls the door open and motions after you.
The room buzzes. Conversation. Clinking forks. The hum of the air conditioner.
Two kids are sharing a cookie in the corner. The family next to them is tearing into a tiny purple cake. And the short, thin woman in an orchid cardigan—
Penny.
Ryan's hand squeezes mine.
I pull him closer. Not for him—though I can feel how much he needs that. For me. Because her curious stare is draining every ounce of my warmth.
The guy sitting next to her is handsome. I'll give him that. He's tall, with neat dirty blond hair and green eyes. His relaxed t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders. His tanned arms are ink free.
He looks like a Dockers advertisement.
Like a guy who wears boat shoes.
He is wearing boat shoes.
It's three steps to the ground floor. A giant display case of pastries is in front of us. A sign, with prices and coffee specials, is behind that. The tables are to our right.
Penny and Boat Shoes are sitting at the table next to the pastry case.
They're sipping coffee from pink mugs.
She's staring.
He's oblivious.
Ryan drops my hand. Slides his arm around my waist. "You ready?"
I turn to him. Peel his sunglasses from his face, fold them, hang them on his shirt.
He stares down at me.
Hurt fills his blue eyes. I run my fingers over his cheek. I need to do something to wipe his pain away.
But that's hopeless.
The best I can do is—
His palm plants on my lower back.
His eyelids flutter together.
Slowly, his lips brush mine.
My knees go weak.
My fingers dig into his t-shirt.
It's a stage kiss.
It barely last two seconds.
But I still feel it everywhere.
The mint of his toothpaste. And something else. Some taste distinctly Ryan.
He unpeels his body from mine. Brings his mouth to my ear. "You look amazing in that dress, baby."
My cheeks flush.
"I want to rip it off," he stage whispers.