Lexi Cocker - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,35
“You remember what Mom used to say about personal stuff?”
“Some things are meant to remain private to those who endure them.”
It’s one of the many reasons Sammy and I don’t gossip. It’s Gage’s tragedy and if he wants people to know, he’ll tell them. Including my sister. Not that she’d ever tell anyone — but that’s not the point.
Licking my spoon, I stretch a leg. “I was going to stay at his place but when we were driving over to Virginia Highlands, I uh…” His mother had called, and Gage let it go to voicemail. Only because of me. It didn’t feel right. I was sure they wanted to talk to one another. “I asked if he wanted to be alone.”
She nods, understanding his answer was yes. “You like him?”
I shrug, “It’s just a casual thing,” turning back to the screen. “Let’s find a comedy.”
She’s staring at me, so I side-eyeball her.
“It’s just casual?”
I insist, “Yes! Trust me, it is,” and begin searching for films without waiting for her. Under my breath, I finally add, “You know I don’t get serious about guys.”
“Brad?”
“Brad?! That was a game! One long stupid game!”
“The kind where you leapt into his arms and took him back time and again.”
“Thrill of the chase. Give me that!” I snatch the tub of ice cream, spooning the last of it with an annoyed glance cut her way.
“I was done,” she lies.
“You wanted this.”
“Nope. I was done.”
“Yeah right.”
The sound of Zoe’s key unlocking the dead bolt catches our attention.
She and Ryder Hamilton walk in, laughing about who the fuck knows what.
Our eyebrows fly, both of us wondering how they ended up together on a date night. I look at Sam and she gives a tiny head shake. No clue.
He’s been Zoe’s ginormous crush since our cousin Emma married his uncle, Tanner. The marriage brought Ryder and his mom to Atlanta from California, happily installing them as honorary family members. She promptly met someone, but Ryder has remained single.
During every single infamous Cocker Family BBQ since their move east, Zoe has mooned over Ryder and yet somehow we’re all uncertain of his knowledge of her crush.
He’s fond of her.
How could he not be?
But Sam and I have never seen romance behind his eyes.
Save for one night.
It was when Logan visited Atlanta to celebrate Caden’s return, months before the Broadway show left for Germany and took Logan with it. Ryder came back to our place with him for what ended up becoming a very dramatic evening for my poor Samantha.
And a dreamy one for our Zo.
Ryder had flirted with her.
Complimented her.
Then left.
She lived off of it.
For months.
So what the hell is happening here?!
She grins, “Hi guys,” jogging her thumb to her handsome, dark-haired crush.
He tips his chin. “Girls.”
Sam’s surprise is concealed well. “Hi Ryder!”
Mine isn’t. “Where the fuck did you find him?! One of your better dreams?”
Zoe blushes.
I yelp as Sam pinches my hip under the fuzzy blanket.
Ryder smiles, “Thanks Lex. I’m not used to you giving compliments.”
“I give them all the time!”
He chuckles and casually adds, “I’m gonna help myself to a beer.”
Zoe points to our kitchen, “Right in there!” and drops her hand. “Oh, you know where it is. I forgot you’ve been here before.”
He faces her, standing pretty close. “It’s all good. You want one?”
Sam and I exchange a look because there is definite chemistry. And also, do we have beer?
“No, thank you, Ryder. But you can bring me back a spoon for that ice cream.”
I turn it over, “Oops! All gone,” and dip my head to lick a creamy droplet before it falls.
“Is there any more?”
Samantha apologizes, “We need to go shopping again.”
She shrugs, “I’ve got chocolate in my room,” and tells Ryder, “I’ll meet you back here.”
As soon as we’re alone I whisper to Sam, “Do we have beer?”
She whispers back, glancing behind her to make sure they’re gone. “There was some in the fridge when I got home.”
“Why?”
“I thought you bought it.”
“I only drink beer when we’re out.”
“I know! But I thought…”
My head swings back. “You thought I was drinking to get over Brad.”
“It was a possibility.”
“No it fucking wasn’t.”
She cracks up, and I smack her knee, irritated.
Ryder walks around the wall that divides this room from our kitchen, an icy six pack of Sweetwater Ale gripped in one hand. “You know what Atlanta has that California doesn’t? This!” Setting it on our unusually clutter-free coffee table, he calls out, “Hey Zo! You sure you don’t want a beer?”
She strolls in with a box