“What’s your hurry?” he asks a little sourly. “You have plans?”
“No, but Ryan is waiting. I feel like a bad host.” He rolls his eyes, and I don’t get the sense that he plans to hurry on my behalf or Ryan’s tonight.
“So who is this guy anyway?” he asks as we – finally — walk outside.
“My ex-boyfriend,” I tell him. The door slams a little loudly as he climbs in.
“You didn’t mention the whole boyfriend part before,” he says.
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
He has no answer for that. “Is he here to see you?”
“No, not at all. He had this gig lined up before I even knew I’d be down here.”
“Gig?” he hisses. “Is he in a band?” As if I’d said Ryan was out on parole.
“Yes, Dad,” I laugh. “He’s in a band. And he has a tattoo, if that’s your next question.”
His jaw grinds. “You dated a guy in a band? What band?”
“Far Too Far,” I say.
“They play here every summer,” he says. He doesn’t seem happy about it. “So how old is this guy?”
I laugh again. “Jesus, James. You’ve now asked me four questions more about him than my dad ever has.”
“That’s because your dad is a selfish asshole.”
“Well, yeah.” He’s kind of got me there.
“So answer the question.”
I don’t like his demanding tone, or the way he seems to think I owe him these answers, and yet there’s something compelling in it too. I just wish it was jealousy and not some misplaced big brother-type concern.
“He’s 22.” James rolls his eyes. Every answer I provide seems to make him wind tighter. “Why are you acting like I’m bringing home a 50-year-old?”
“I’m not,” he says tersely. “Are you going to see him play tomorrow?”
I shrug. “I guess, if my shift ends early enough.”
He follows me into the house, tensing at the shout of laughter that comes from the deck. Ryan sits in one of the lounge chairs, so relaxed with Max and Ginny you’d think he’d known them forever.
“There she is!” shouts Max. “Are your ears burning, Elle? I had no idea you were such a wild little thing.”
I don’t even want to know what they were discussing. Ryan smiles, but it fades a little as James walks up behind me, standing closer than he should — as if we’re together. They lock eyes, and suddenly there is vast tension where there was none a moment before. Ryan jumps up and pulls me into a tight hug. “Hey, beautiful,” he says, kissing my cheek.
“Hey, you,” I reply. I’d forgotten how he looked to me when we first met. Before I knew what a narcissistic ass he could be. When all I saw was his gorgeous face and his washboard abs, how amazingly blue his eyes looked against his tan, his dark hair and his perpetual five o’clock shadow. I’ve questioned the fact that I stayed with him as long as I did, but I can definitely understand it right now. He’s pretty irresistible. When he pulls back he looks James in the eye and raises a brow. “Who’s your bodyguard?”
I laugh. “This is Ginny’s brother, James.”
James doesn’t extend a hand, just nods in a way that seems slightly threatening.
“The guys want to see you,” says Ryan, turning back to me. “Can you rally or are you too tired?”
“I can rally,” I tell him. “Ginny, you want to come out?”
“I don’t know,” she says, with a little smile. “How hot are your bandmates?”
“We’re all irresistible,” Ryan says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Right, babe?”
I laugh. “No comment. But yeah, Ginny, you’d probably want to come. If you didn’t already have a boyfriend.”
She stands anyway, and there’s a gleam in her eye that probably shouldn’t be there.
“Just let me shower first,” I tell Ryan. “I smell like bacon grease.”
“I thought you smelled pretty good,” he grins.
Ginny bumps my hip as we go upstairs. “Why didn’t you tell me how hot he was?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Why would it matter?”
“Because if I’d known how completely edible he was I would have told you not to break up with him.”
“He can be a complete dick,” I counter.
“Mmmm. I’d be willing to live with that.”
“Why is it that you keep acting like you don’t have a boyfriend you’re crazy about?”
“I’m not,” she replies testily. “Why am I not allowed to enjoy myself like a regular college sophomore without everyone assuming there’s a problem?”
I shower while she runs through our closet. When I emerge, she hands me a dress. “You’re wearing this.” I eye it. It’s her dress, and she’s a lot shorter than me. “That dress is gonna end just under my ass,” I tell her.
“I know,” she laughs. “But someone needs to sleep with your ex tonight, and it won’t be me.”
“It won’t be me either,” I reply. “And you need to stay right by my side so Ryan doesn’t get a chance.”
Her smile fades, replaced by something unhappy and a little suspicious. “What would be so terrible about sleeping with him?” she asks. “It’s not like you’d be cheating on someone, right?”
“No,” I say. “I just don’t want to go down that road again.”
She doesn’t look entirely appeased. “Fine,” she says. “James’s head would explode if you walked out wearing it anyway.”
I take the dress.
When we return to the deck I notice that James looks as every bit as grim as he did earlier. Apparently my ex’s charm doesn’t work on everyone.
And his face falls even further when he looks toward us.
“Damn, babe,” says Ryan, walking toward me slowly. “I’ve never seen that dress before.”
“It’s Ginny’s.”
“Ginny,” Ryan grins, “you’re in charge of her wardrobe from now on.”
“That’s not a dress. It’s a shirt,” grumbles James. “And not even a long one.”
“Have fun, girls!” shouts Max.
James says nothing, but I can still hear Max’s slightly maniacal laughter as we walk out the front door.
**
Ryan’s bandmates make room for us when we get to the bar. They’re all pretty good guys, despite what I consider excessive ambivalence about the Ivy League education their parents are underwriting. “Who’s your hot friend, Elle?” asks Paul, the drummer.
“This is Ginny,” I reply. “Who is not only hot, but incredibly brilliant.” I guess if she’s not going to bring up the boyfriend, I won’t either.
Once Ginny is happily situated with his bandmates, Ryan pulls me aside. “So what’s the deal with her brother?”
I shrug. “He’s just over-protective.”
“Are you dating him?”
“No. He thinks of me like a little sister.”