Motion(Laws of Physics #1)(26)

I had to wrestle with the impulse to step fully behind Gabby or otherwise use her to block myself from view.

“I can’t stay long, I have to be somewhere,” Gabby said, obviously pretending to misinterpret his meaning. “But if you put on a bathing suit, I’ll cancel my other plans.”

Abram crossed his arms, his wary gaze returning to mine. It seemed to soften. Or . . . maybe it didn’t? Or maybe some plotting, rebellious part of me wanted irrelevantly attractive Abram to look at me differently than he looked at Gabby?

Yes. That’s probably it. It’s all in my imagination.

But then he asked “Lisa, are you going swimming?” and the tone he used was undeniably softer than the one he’d used with Gabby.

Oh.

So I croaked “Yes” and hated that the majority of my insides melted at the irrefutable evidence: Abram’s expression and voice had gentled as he addressed me. Fact.

Gabby squeezed my arm.

I quickly put an end to the internal organ melting and came back to myself, adding firmly, “Preferably alone. Don’t feel like you need to stay, Gabby.”

She gave me the side-eye and a saccharine sweet smile. “You’re funny. I do have to be someplace, but we have so much to talk about. I wouldn’t think of leaving quite yet. Plus, I brought you dry shampoo. For your hair. You know you can’t get your hair wet or else Abram will have to take you back to George.”

“Who is George?” Abram took a step forward, glancing between us.

“George is Lisa’s stylist in Chicago. Her stylist in New York is also George, but it’s spelled G-O-R-G,” Gabby answered, like it was the most natural thing in the world for a person to have a stylist with a name pronounced George in every city.

My upbringing meant I hadn’t truly understood until undergrad how unusual it was for a person to have a stylist in every city, or even one in one city. My superstar mother was followed by a beauty and health entourage everywhere she went. When she and my father had taken Leo and I to movie premieres, or award shows, or wherever they’d be photographed with their two prized prodigy pedigrees, her life had been my initial baseline.

I’d spent the last four years readjusting my expectations of normal. Even so, since my Ivy League past and living with Dr. Steward were now my secondary baseline, I knew I was still hugely out of touch about many, many realities of the typical, normal, or average experience.

I didn’t know what I didn’t know, but I was working on it.

Abram lifted an eyebrow at Gabby’s explanation. It looked judgmental. “You can’t do your own hair?”

“Apparently, not in Chicago or New York,” I said dryly, unable to help the note of sarcasm given my level of frustration. I just wanted to go swimming and cool down! Was that too much to ask?

Gabby shot me a dirty look, her elbow digging into my side.

But Abram’s judgy single-eyebrow lift became a double rise of surprise, his gaze moving over me, his mouth curving into another of his reluctant grins.

“Given how much Abram loves your company, I’m sure he won’t have any problem taking you to George to get your hair done.” Gabby met my sarcasm and raised me a dose of mockery.

“Or maybe Abram could just change his name to George?” I appealed to Abram, pulling my arm from her grip.

“Sure. I can do that.” He nodded, surprising me by playing along.

“There we go. I have my George. I can go swimming. Gabby, you can rest easy about my hair. And now you can both leave.”

Gabby’s mouth dropped open, and I could feel the squawking protest building inside her.

But Abram spoke before she had the chance. “Oh no, George can’t leave. George has to go swimming.”

Those statements earned him an intense eye-squint. “Why does George have to go swimming?”

“Don’t you want a George nearby? Just in case there’s a hair emergency?” He was grinning. Apparently he’d decided to stop hiding his smiles, just this once.

“No.” I frowned, confused by the smile he was sending me. “Never mind. You’re Ahab again.”

Abram dropped his chin to his chest and covered his mouth with a hand, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was laughing. The maneuver didn’t work because his shaking shoulders gave him away.

I sensed Gabby glance between the two of us, I also sensed her incredulity, but I didn’t give her any of my direct attention. I was too busy battling warm feelings because Abram was laughing at my Ahab joke, which meant he was laughing with me. Which meant I was melting again.

It felt . . . good.

Eventually, he shrugged, his arms falling to his sides. When he lifted his head, his eyes were glowing, and he’d pressed his lips together as though to erase his grin. It didn’t work, his dimples betrayed him.

“Too bad, Liza. George will be right back.”

Scowling to hide this burgeoning warmth in my stomach and chest, I shouted at his back as he jogged away, “Where are you going?”

He turned and walked backward, looking very pleased. “To change into my swimsuit.”

“Well take your time!” I crossed my arms, raging against some new, hotter emotion I didn’t dare identify.

“I won’t!” he yelled in return, giving us his back again as he climbed the stairs. “See you in a second.”