Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(28)

Vee groans. “He’s going to think you’re blowing him off.”

“So,” I say. “Why do we suddenly care what The Ryde thinks?” I look over at her before starting my message. I need a second to sort out what I’m going to say.

“I’m being selfish. Sorry.” She walks toward the closet. “I was hoping that maybe the next time, we could do a double or something.”

Ah, crap. “Vee…”

She waves me off from over her shoulder, brushing away my sympathy. “Gavin’s so far up Laney’s—” She cuts off, then turns to face me with a black maxi dress in her hands. “Well, he’s literally so far up her vag, that I don’t stand a chance. It’s just a dumb infatuation.”

I do think Vee’s level of interest in Gavin has gone supernova—to the point of near obsession. But I keep my mouth shut. I don’t have much room to talk. “What is that?” I nod to the dress.

“I got this for Christmas last year, but it doesn’t fit. Too small.” She shrugs, as if this fact doesn’t bother her in the least. I envy her nonchalance toward her body so hard. “I really don’t get why you’re so worried over what you’re wearing to your parents when your stepmom already has clothes—probably something gorgeous—already picked out for you. But,” she adds, crossing the room toward me, dress held out, “I have stopped trying to figure out your brain. Take it.” She shakes the hanger.

“Thanks,” I say, accepting the dress as she lays the silky material over my arm.

She smiles and then heads out to who knows where. She’s always doing that—up and leaving, after making some crucial statement. Like a bad sitcom. I laugh to myself.

Only, she just doesn’t get it. Becca’s going to scrutinize whatever I wear. You don’t just show up anywhere, even home, looking less than “put together.” And, she’ll size me up. Inspecting how much weight I’ve gained or lost. Whether my curves are too curvy...or not curvaceous enough. Judging if I’ve been working out too much or too little.

I’m exhausted just thinking about the first five minutes with her…never mind the whole evening.

With a resigned sigh, I slip out of my clothes and into Vee’s form-fitting dress, deciding I can wear my Dolce & Gabbana cardigan over it. So Becca has less unconcealed areas to evaluate me.

And oh, I think, getting my head through the tight neck, I completely forgot to text Ryder.

I quickly type out a message to him, explaining that I have a party to attend with my parents. It’s the lamest excuse in the history of excuses, but it’s also the truth. So there’s that.

He replies right away: You could’ve just said you can’t make it. The book wasn’t necessary, although I appreciate the thought you put into your standing me up excuse.

I shake my head. You’d think a guy being stood up—if that was the case—would be a bit less cocky. Not Ryder. His conceit in the face of rejection is astounding. And absolutely infuriating. I can almost envision the night we would’ve had, the attention centered on him, my embarrassment at his witty remarks. I’m almost relieved I have to cancel. Almost.

Me: It’s the truth. I simply forgot

Ryder: Subconsciously? Should I be hopeful?

I laugh. Me: Absolutely. Believe it or not, I’d rather go to your conspicuously anonymous event with you. As soon as I hit send, I realize it’s true. There are worse things than spending a night affecting a fake smile and listening to boring people talk money, but not many. At least with Ryder, there’s no expectation—only the anxiety-inducing hours of being near him. Unlike my father, who insists I flatter and stroke the egos of all the “right” men.

I cringe, and look at my screen when my phone beeps.

Ryder: I’ll blow off my thing if you blow off yours…

A full-on laugh flies from my mouth, unguarded.

Ryder: Please do NOT take that the wrong way. I swear, was meant totally innocent

He has to do this on purpose. No one stumbles over this many innuendoes all of the time. But even if I’m willing to trust that, and maybe even him…a little…I can’t back out of my father’s banquet.

Me: I feel you say these things on purpose to get a rise out of me. But no, sorry. Not doable. Rain check?

My breath stilled in my chest, I wait for his next message. Not sure why, other than possible hope his next words will alleviate some of the stress gathering inside me.

Ryder: You do realize I will now be even more persistent. You said yes once…

The air in the room ceases to stir, as if time halts, my gaze hard on the phone in my hand. A tingling sensation prickles my stomach, the air in my lungs finally escaping with a long, careful exhale. Who talks like this? Who makes you feel this significant with just words?

Right. Shaking off the unsettling chill, I remind myself he’s the school “it” guy. He’s well versed at saying the right things to set my heart aflutter. But still, that doesn’t quite fit the stereotypical jock. Stephan tried hard at playing the romantic angle, but it always felt forced. He wasn’t the least bit suave or smooth. And Ryder’s attempts don’t feel practiced.

Me: Laters

Ryder: Xx

Hmm.

Placing my phone on my bed, I only consider his last text long enough to roll my eyes at myself, then I find my cardigan, my anxiety quickly catching up with where it should be at this point. I’m now only minutes away from being in Becca’s presence.