Wrong About the Guy(68)

I didn’t hear the gate or the car motor—just the sudden loud spray of gravel close behind us. We jumped back, hastily releasing each other as Luke drove into the four-car garage.

But instead of going directly into the house, he came back out to the driveway and squinted at us.

“Hey, guys. What are you doing out here?” The casual tone would have been reassuring, except it was arguably a little too casual.

Which meant he’d seen us before we’d broken apart.

I said, “We were just on our way in. We have to get the bags.”

“Yes,” George said. “The bags.” His eyes sought out mine, a little desperately. Luke was his brother’s boss. And he was Luke. And he’d seen us kissing.

“All right,” Luke said easily. “I’ll see you two inside.” But he kept glancing back at us as he went into the house.

George got the bags out of the trunk, while I retrieved the books from the front seat. “Do you think he’s okay with this?” he asked as we went up to the front door.

“He’ll have to be,” I said. My hands were shaking, but it had nothing to do with fear.

We carried our purchases into the kitchen. Mom and Grandma and Luke were all in there. They fell silent the moment we entered.

“I think we got everything,” George said.

“I’m sure you did,” Luke said, and Grandma giggled.

“Thank you, George,” Mom said with a reproving look at her own mother. “You too, Ellie.”

“You’re welcome,” George said, and there was an awkward silence.

“We’re going to go get frozen yogurt,” I said suddenly.

“We are?” George said. Then, “Right. Yes. Let’s go.”

We said good-bye and crept out of the room. Luke murmured something we couldn’t hear, and all three of them laughed from behind us.

“Your face is bright red,” I told George as he held the front door open for me.

“I can’t imagine why,” he said.





thirty-three


Outside, I said, “We don’t have to get frozen yogurt. That was just a panic plan. We could go . . . I don’t know . . .” A sideways glance. “Maybe your place?”

“I like the frozen yogurt plan,” he said, opening the passenger door and gesturing inside. “I need a little time to process all this. You work fast.”

“You work slowly,” I said, and climbed into the car.

We filled big cups with frozen yogurt and he paid for them, which may have been gallantry or may have been because I’d forgotten to bring my wallet. “You do this to all the guys, don’t you?” he said, carrying the cups to the table.

“Only the ones I want to take advantage of.”

But when we sat down at a table and I lifted a spoonful of yogurt to my mouth, I suddenly didn’t want it. “I can’t eat right now,” I said, dropping my spoon.

“I know.” He shoved his own dish away. “I can’t either.”

I leaned forward. “Tell me.”

“What?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?” He sat back in his seat and pushed his leg against mine. I pushed back, just as hard. “I was born at Saint Vincent Hospital. . . .”

“Everything that has to do with me.”

“Yeah, I should have guessed that was what you meant.”

I reached out across the table. His hand curved up to meet mine. I said, “Heather thought you liked her because you were always so much nicer to her than to me. And I thought maybe she was right. You need to explain that right now. Why were you so much nicer to her than to me? Why did she rate a stuffed bunny and I didn’t?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “I was terrified of showing how I felt about you. You were my boss’s daughter and even if that was okay, you already had a boyfriend. A slimy, obnoxious snake of a boyfriend, I might add.”

“None of that is true,” I said. “He wasn’t my boyfriend and he’s not a slimy snake.”

“You can’t deny he’s self-centered and selfish.”

“Yeah, but so am I—you said so yourself.”


He shook his head. “No, you’re not. Not really. Not deep down. But I think that’s why it bothered me so much when you were mean to your grandmother—I could see how Aaron was changing you, how he was teaching you to only think about yourself, to be just like him.”

“In fairness to him, I was never all that nice to Grandma,” I said. “I mean, until you told me I should be.”

“Yeah, that conversation . . .” He smiled at me ruefully. “I thought that was it for our friendship—let alone anything else. I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again. You couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“I was embarrassed. You had seen what a jerk I could be.”

“I didn’t think you were a jerk. Just that you were letting Aaron influence you too much. I felt like I had one last chance to make a difference.”

“And then you gave up. You barely talked to me after that.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Yell at me more?”

“Yes,” he said. “Because girls like it so much when guys criticize them.”