Page 40 of Summer Love

He slips into the tone of a seasoned advisor, like he’s got a twenty-year head start on life. Except he’s twenty-five and reciting his father’s playbook.

“I’m pretty pragmatic,” I say.

“I don’t doubt it.”

He leans forward, sets his elbows on the table. The distance between us shrinks.

“You’ve changed,” he says. “And not just a little.”

I don’t say anything.

“Last time I saw you here, you were what… sixteen?”

“Seventeen.”

“Always in sneakers, hair pulled back. Still had your braces, I think.”

He says it with a half-smile, like it’s fond. Like the memory belongs to him as much as to me.

“And… well, let’s say you left that figure skater’s body behind.”

His gaze drops again, climbs back. His smile widens. My stomach knots, the way it does when a stranger presses in too close on the subway.

“I don’t skate anymore,” I say.

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

He laughs. I don’t.

The server comes by. Ryan orders a second glass for himself, red this time.

“We could eat here,” he suggests. “Their cheese board’s pretty decent.”

“No thanks. It’s been a long day, I’d rather head back.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, smiling.

He files the idea away in a drawer. He might pull it back out later.

The wine is good, but I don’t want to be here anymore. My foot burns inside my shoe. The pain has turned into a dull, steady throb, like a second pulse. I try not to wince.

“You know you could stay,” Ryan says, fixing his gray eyes on mine. “Coral Bay’s a small town… but it could get very interesting.”

I can see exactly where he’s going with this. For you. With me.

“We’ll see.”

“That’s better than a no,” he says, smiling.

I’m not staying.

We finish our drinks in silence. The server brings the check. Ryan pulls out his card before I have time to open my mouth.

“No, wait.”

I reach for the check, but he won’t let me take it.

“Next time, we’ll split it,” he says without even looking at me.