Last Year's Mistake - Gina Ciocca Page 0,24
know,” he said, holding out the glass, “I’m a Boston fan, and I’m still gonna share this, if you want it. That’s kind of a big deal.”
He flashed a dimpled smile and I ignored my stampeding heart, reminding myself, as I accepted the shot, that my new life meant giving myself permission to do stupid things.
“Duly noted.” I closed my eyes, raised the glass to my lips, and opened my throat.
And immediately went into a coughing fit that resembled a seizure.
I felt so ridiculous that I avoided Ryan the rest of the night, certain I’d obliterated any interest he might’ve had in me—until the day he walked into class with two flowers, set them down in front of me, and watched my face turn every conceivable shade of red as the class hooted and hollered all around us.
Tonight he’d upgraded the carnations to a drop-dead gorgeous bouquet of red roses.
“Ryan!” I gasped as I opened the door. “What’s all this for?”
He bent to kiss me. “Because I love you.”
For a second I panicked. I wondered if he’d somehow seen me spying on David and Violet and decided damage control was in order, but then dismissed that idea as ridiculous. If he’d seen my reaction, he’d be birthing a giant green cow, not buying me flowers. I threw my arms around him, holding the flowers out so I wouldn’t crush them, and nipped at his neck.
“I love them.”
“You look beautiful tonight.”
I stepped back and smoothed the strapless purple sundress I wore. I’d had serious doubts about my outfit and my makeup after the comments David made at Violet’s party, but seeing the way Ryan looked at me gave my self-confidence a much-needed boost.
Screw David. He was nothing but a jealous ass wipe.
After I put the flowers in water, Ryan and I headed out to his car. I felt more like myself with every passing second. He refused to tell me where we were going, so we spent most of the car ride laughing at recaps of the stupid, drunken things our friends had done at Violet’s the night before.
I didn’t tell him what I’d seen in the pool. Any minute now I’d be able to think about it without tasting bile, anyway.
By the time we parked the car on Thames Street, the sea air had already started to work its magic and I felt myself relax. The temperature was much cooler than the previous night, and I pulled my sweater tighter as Ryan hugged me to his side and the familiar ocean breeze teased us with the scents of garlic roasting and fish frying and hamburgers grilling. The last of the summer tourists milled through the streets, getting their final fills of the sights and sounds that were home to me now.
I squealed with delight when Ryan pulled me toward the Mooring. “I know it’s your favorite,” he said with a smile. “I made a reservation.”
And he’d even asked for a table near the fireplace, the best spot.
“Ryan, we still have almost two months until our anniversary. What’s this all about?” I asked again.
He reached across the table for my hand. “I feel like you’ve been kinda distracted lately. I wanted to take your mind off things, spend some time alone.”
I looked down at my lap. “I guess I have been a little distracted. And it’s not just because . . .” I trailed off, afraid David’s name might invoke the black cloud that seemed to hover between Ryan and me whenever he came up. “It’s other things too. My dad’s book has been getting so much attention, and he’s never home anymore because he’s either working or at signings and promos. When he does come home, he’s holed up in his office. Mom gets mopey when he’s gone too long, so she keeps busy by hounding me about college applications, and Miranda’s just in my face all the time, period.”
Ryan looked down at our hands as his thumb brushed over my knuckles, his brow furrowed. It was the same pensive look that came over him any time the subject of college came up.
“Have you thought any more about where you want to go?” I asked gently.
Ryan sighed and sat back in his chair. “You know I need to go wherever my scholarship money stretches the furthest. My grades aren’t good enough to get in on academics, and my parents can go on a cruise every other month, but they won’t pay for the schools I want without at least a