screw-up?”
“Long story,” Ryan replies. “Nice place,” he comments, glancing around, changing the subject.
“Thanks. Would you and your brother like to come in for a minute?”
“Maybe another time.” He glances at his watch. It’s the same bulky dial-filled one I noticed when we had lunch. “We should really hit the road.”
After locking up behind me, I follow Ryan down the steps to his car. He offers to put my beach bag in the trunk as he opens the passenger door for me. “This is Wes,” he tells me, motioning to his brother in the back. “Wes, this is Andrea.”
Wes is a skinny boy with pale skin and a shock of wavy black hair that sticks straight up. There appears to be a lot of hair gel involved. Even sitting in the back seat of the car, silently nodding hello to me, I can tell he is all long limbs and self-consciousness.
“Nice to meet you Wes,” I say cheerily as I lower myself into the passenger seat. His hair color and hazel eyes match Ryan’s, but his thin face is full of hard angles and his mouth is a straight lipless slash, nothing like Ryan’s full and ready smile. Wes appears sullen in the back seat, looking every bit the unwilling participant. Since neither Ryan nor Wes appear to want each other’s company, I wonder why they have been forced together today. It seems I have the whole awkward afternoon to find out.
Sitting in Ryan’s car, I notice how clean the interior is. There is no clutter, and I spot none of the food wrappers or loose change I find in most of my friend’s vehicles. A ‘dumpster on wheels’ is how I often refer to my sister’s car. I wonder if Ryan always keeps his car this clean or if he took extra care knowing I would be in it. Either way, I am impressed.
“How are things going with your second customer?” I ask once we’re on our way.
He glances at me and grins. “Good, I think. We sent them some code yesterday, and it seems to be testing out okay.”
“You had to work on Saturday then?”
“Yeah. We were all there. But we met our first deadline. So, that felt good.” He glances at his brother in the rearview mirror. “Wes did some testing for us. He really helped out.”
“Oh, are you working with your brother?” I ask, turning to look back at him.
“Slave labor is more like it,” he responds reluctantly.
“He’s working as a summer intern,” Ryan explains.
“Do you want to be a software developer, too?” I ask Wes.
“Hardly,” he states glumly.
I glance at Ryan who offers me a tight smile.
I decide not to risk anymore conversation with Wes and face forward again, watching the scenery speed by. Teenage boys are a mystery to me. Teenage girls I can sort of relate to. You never completely lose those insecurities that barrage you as a teenager, especially those tortuous fourteen-year-old insecurities when you’re most definitely not a little kid anymore, and you feel like aliens have invaded your body. With that thought, I feel more generous toward Wes, although not enough to attempt another conversation.
“Did you do anything interesting yesterday?” Ryan asks, breaking the silence.
When I think of yesterday, I picture Katie’s stricken expression across from me in the cave-like bar and grill. Then I realize that my cell phone is in my beach bag in the trunk, and I wonder if she’s trying to call me.
“Andrea?” Ryan prompts.
I can feel his eyes on me, and I realize that I haven’t answered his question. “Oh, sorry. Actually, yesterday wasn’t a very good day. In fact, I didn’t have a very good week.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Anything I can do?”
“You’re already doing it. A day at the beach is the perfect prescription for me today.”
Again, I can feel him looking at me. I turn to smile at him, and I’m greeted by my own reflection in his sunglasses. If his brother wasn’t sitting in the back seat, I might have told him about Katie and asked his opinion. So far, I’ve assessed him to be hard-working, courteous, kind, and good-looking. But it’s early. There’s still plenty of time to change my opinion.
We make good time until we get to Route 3, which is to be expected. Three lanes narrow to two, and we spend the next half hour inching our way toward the Duxbury exit. During the ride Wes never speaks again, while Ryan and I chat over radio station preferences--he likes