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“I spent that entire four-hour party watching the door, hoping you’d show up. I got cornered by one of dad’s friends trying to talk me into investing in some scheme of his. That must have been when you tried to get in.”
“I didn’t care about the party. I only went there to tell you I was sorry for what I’d said when you dumped me. And maybe make you a little sorry you’d dumped me. Then they kicked me out. Not much humiliates me, Ian, but that was humiliating. I cried in Mrs. Scheinberg’s apartment when I gave her the dress back.”
“Jesus Christ...”
“I don’t think you can say that anymore, now that we know you’re Jewish. But I’m not sure. We’ll have to check the bylaws.”
He laughed and groaned at the same time.
“Ian?” she asked. “You okay?”
He shook his head.
“No? You aren’t okay?” she asked.
He looked up from the cradle of his hands and smiled.
“I hate everything forever,” he said. “On earth. Right now. This second.”
“Welcome to my life.”
“I told Dad I thought the black-tie anniversary party was a waste of money and a bad idea. I said we should have a company barbecue. Something everyone could come to without feeling like they had to drop a ton of money on formal attire. He said every Asher event was a campaign fundraiser whether we wanted it to be or not. Fat cats don’t go on picnics, and we needed the fat cats on our side. I lose a lot of these arguments.”
“I’m glad you tried, though,” she said.
Ian leaned his head back against the edge of the hot tub and exhaled so hard a whole cloud of smoke billowed from his mouth and nose and up into the night sky.
“I feel like I’m always apologizing to you,” he said. “And here I’m doing it again. I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to do to you and say to you and I would have put Russell in the hospital if I’d known what was going on.”
“I know it wasn’t your fault. I know you would have let me in the party. It’s not you. It’s just...nobody wants to see the captain of the football team with the weird Goth girl at school. They want to see him with the head cheerleader. I’m not a cheerleader, Ian. I eat cheerleaders.”
“Literally or in a sexual way?”
“Both,” she said. “I’m a bisexual cannibal and proud of it.”
“You’re wrong, by the way.”
“About what?” she demanded. “I’m never wrong.”
“About the football captain and the weird Goth girl. You said nobody wants to see them together. I want to see them together.”
“What about your grandparents? What about your dad’s business partners? What about your friends?”
“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. And they shouldn’t, either.”
“What if your grandmother says something to you about my tattoos?”
“Never too early for the old folks’ home, Grandma.”
“Oh, my God, you’re ridiculous. Can you not be serious for three seconds?”
“I can’t help it,” he said with that grin again, that gorgeous grin. “I’m too happy.” He put his hands on her waist and gently drew him to her.
“You’re cute when you’re happy,” she said. “Why are you so happy?”
“Because two days ago I thought you were walking out of my life—forever. And now you’re my girlfriend. Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m stoned to the gills on hormones. Aren’t you?”
“Stoned?”
