time to dissect it, though, because apparently my date is a Chatty Cathy and is now driving the conversation across the table.
“So, Ryan, you live in Chicago?” Carter asks, being a better friend at this dinner than I am. I’ve gone dead silent. Chewing this steak is my only objective.
“I do.” Ryan’s curt tone has me looking up. His dark eyes are stormy, hiding below his furrowed brows—smirk nowhere to be found.
“And you’re a chef?”
“Yep.”
“That’s awesome. I can barely make Ramen Noodle Soup.”
“Congrats?”
Whoa! Attitude alert.
Logan senses it too, because he clears his throat and asks Ryan to help him clear the plates. Stacy takes the opportunity to tell us why she really brought us here. She lays out a blueprint of the seating chart for the reception. Her hands unroll the paper and smooth out the edges, because actually, she has lured us here under false pretenses of a friends dinner when, really, she only needs help writing out name tags for the reception place settings. Stacy, you dirty little con artist. I feel a tiny bit guilty about forcing Carter into this, but he’s a good sport and assures me he doesn’t mind.
After an hour, I can’t take the guilt anymore and tell Carter he can head out. I’ll make Stacy drive me back home since she now owes me a million favors for all she’s put me through over the past few days. Carter hesitates like any nice guy would but eventually gives in, and I walk him out the door. We reach that awkward moment on a first date (if you can really call this a date) where we decide if we should kiss or not. Part of me wonders if Ryan is watching, and if so, maybe I should lay a big one on Carter.
But I don’t know…my heart’s not in it anymore. Ryan’s bad mood soured mine, and now I just kinda want to shoo Carter off as quickly as possible. I settle for letting him kiss me on the cheek and apologize for such a strange evening. Once he drives off, I go back in the house and shut the door. That’s that. Another man exits my life.
I turn around and find Ryan standing in the living room. He doesn’t look happy, and his already imposing figure somehow feels even bigger. Up until this point, Ryan has been smooth and congenial. Like nothing I could ever say or do would truly fluster him.
He looks flustered now, though.
His scowl is so angry it blisters my skin and pins me to the door at my back. He lifts a brow. His face says well?
I lift one brow to mirror his.
He takes a step, and so do I.
“Are you two about to duel?” Logan asks from the threshold of the kitchen.
“Go away, Logan,” Ryan all but growls.
“No way. In fact, don’t move. Let me go get my phone so I can film this.” Logan rushes off, and Ryan and I are left here, fighting about I don’t know what. We’re always fighting about something, though, so it doesn’t really matter.
“So…you got me back,” he says, breaking the silence first. One point for me. “Brought a date to friends dinner.” I don’t answer. Another point. He steps closer, and a sad smirk touches the corner of his mouth. “How do you feel? I’m guessing not as great as you hoped.”
I clear my throat so my words will dislodge. “Why do you say that?”
“Because that's always how I felt after I brought some random girl to our friends dinners. Every single time, my only motive was to make you jealous. But you never were.”
I stay quiet still because my emotions are teetering. He’s standing there and laying his heart on the line, and I’m mute. I don’t know how I want all of this to end. If I stay quiet, nothing is final. Nothing is decided.
“Does he get a second date?” asks Ryan. And when my brows pinch together, he says, “Yeah, I know about your rule. Logan told me.” Freaking Logan. “And I want to know if, after five years, Carter the marketer gets a second date with you?”
Is that why his mood crashed? My stomach flutters. He’s angry because I might be into someone else?
I could string him along. He very clearly is annoyed by the idea of me breaking my rule for Carter, and it’s the perfect way to gain an extra point in our game. But I can’t. For some reason, I don’t want another