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Ryan: Okay.
On a heavy sigh, I toss my phone back into my purse. Somehow, Ryan and I have gone from telling each other we’re falling for each other, to what feels like complete strangers trying to navigate through an uncomfortable conversation.
I hate that everything is so fucked up right now.
But where do Ryan and I really go from here?
Our parents are getting married.
Shit is awkward as hell between us.
And we practically live on opposites sides of the country.
It feels like every possible odd is stacked against us.
New York City, NY, October 23rd, Friday
Ryan
“Still haven’t heard from her?” Brandon asks, making my attention jerk up from my phone and back to the chaos of the bar, Slim Tim’s. I haven’t told him everything, but apparently, between how long he’s known me and the way I’ve been acting since I got back from Florida nine days ago, I’ve told him enough.
I shake my head. “Not since the painful exchange upon arrival home. I’m pretty sure I’ll be receiving a Pulitzer soon for my well-thought-out prose.” I lower my voice to mock the gist of the only text message exchange Carly and I have had since I came home over a week ago. “So, uh, did ya make it home okay? Yep. You? Yep.”
Brandon chuckles. “That bad, huh?”
I roll my eyes and scrub a hand down my face before nodding once.
Every day since I got back from Florida, I think about her.
I think about texting her. Calling her.
But I always stop myself when I have no idea what the hell I want to say.
This is why my daily workouts have turned into twice daily. It’s the only way I’ve been able to handle all of this pent-up stress and frustration and sadness.
Between two fingers, I rub the top of my beer bottle and chew on my lips as I consider telling him more. He watches me closely; I know it because I can feel the weight of his stare.
“I was thinking, though…maybe I’ll move up my ticket for my flight down there for the wedding. Go down a few days early, help out with last-minute to-dos. That kind of thing. It’s not like I haven’t been working remotely all this time. I could do it a little more.”
Brandon nods. “Mm-hmm. See if, maybe, a certain redhead had the same kind of idea?”
I don’t deny it. I’d be a fool to even try with how much I know the thoughts in my head are written across my face. “You think it’s a bad idea?”
“It depends. Have you grown the balls to get over the whole stepsister thing? Because if you haven’t, save us all the fucking heartache and let the relationship die with the dignity it’s managed so far.”
I didn’t make it more than a day at home before I told Brandon about the complicated mess I left behind in Florida. I didn’t tell my other friends, but if I had to guess, I’d say Brandon did. He’s got a big mouth when it comes to anyone’s secrets but his own. It’s understandable, though. One man can only hold so many things in the mental vault before he goes crazy, and Brandon has been involved in more intrigue than any other average Joe.
“You say that like it’s something I should be able to get over. Finding out we’re going to be siblings is kind of a big deal, Bran.”
“Do you know how many twisted things I’ve done with women in my lifetime, Ryan?” He laughs. “So many. Things that your delicate little heart couldn’t even handle hearing, bro. Some stepsibling, non-blood-related bullshit doesn’t even rank on the scale. If it were me, I’d already have my dick between her legs again, and more than that, I’d be posting about it all over the Gram.”
“You’re sick.”
“I’m happy because I don’t let stupid societal misconceptions drive my decisions. Shame on you for letting anyone else dictate the way you live your life.”
I scoff with a laugh and take a swig of my beer, swallowing quickly. “This from the guy who literally just got off the phone, telling a coworker he’s got to go back to Iraq next week to build houses for a mission trip, when he’s neither religious nor has he ever traveled to the Middle East.”
“Okay, first of all, the guy I was on the phone with is a scumbag who deserves to get lied to about why I can’t assist on his pet project with the city council. And secondly, I understand your redirection for exactly what it is, wise guy. This isn’t about me or the blowhards in my law firm. It’s about you and your hottie stepsister. Don’t get it twisted.”
“Ryan!” an overly excited female voice says from behind me, making me twist around in my seat to inspect its origin.
I naïvely expect an old friend or even an ex-lover, but who I find instead, in a tight, short, metallic silver dress and tall heels, is so much worse.
