Page 32 of What About Us

“So—”

“Get in the car,” I say, cutting my best friend off, and he smirks.

“Where’s the Maserati?” Coop asks as I drive us away from the airport.

“In the garage. And no, you can’t drive it.” I shake my head and glance over just in time to see Ivy twisting her fingers in her lap, as if she’s nervous.

She has nothing to be nervous about.

“We should have rented a car and stayed at a hotel,” Britney says. “So we stay out of your hair.”

“My house is big enough that I’ll hardly know you’re there,” I assure her. “Don’t worry about that. And you can take the car whenever you want. Not the Maserati.”

“Damn,” Coop mutters, making Brit and I laugh.

Ivy has hardly breathed since everyone got in the car.

“Are you okay?” I ask her quietly.

“Great.” She nods quickly, those hands still clasping and unclasping in her lap. “You know, you can just drop me off⁠—”

“I’ll take you home,” I reply, keeping my voice down. I feel like an ass. I didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable, and I can tell by her body language and the way she’s gone pale that she’s not okay.

Britney is a chatterbox on a bad day, so she fills the silence on the way into town, and soon I pull up to Ivy’s house.

She pushes out of the car before I even come to a full stop.

“It was nice to meet you,” she says, and I have to hurry to catch up to her on her porch.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all. You did well today. We can take a few days off so you can enjoy your friends, and pick up therapy on Monday, and⁠—”

“I don’t want days off.” I scowl and block my guests’ view by stepping in front of her, then grip her chin and make her look up at me. “Why are you upset?”

“I don’t like new things,” she repeats slowly. “But I’m fine. They seem nice. Honest, have fun with them. Now, I should go because I need to get over to the bar.”

I don’t like this at all, but I don’t have a choice, so I let her go and step back, waiting until she opens the front door and goes inside.

When I get back in the car, Cooper’s frowning.

“Did we say something wrong?”

“No, I think Ivy just has some quirks.”

“Honey, we all have quirks,” Britney replies easily. “And not all of us are good with strangers. She’s beautiful.”

Yeah, she’s fucking gorgeous.

“She’s smart too,” I add as I pull away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IVY

It’s well into the evening, and I’m still cringing internally as I bustle behind the bar, filling drink orders. Why do I freak out around new people? If I’m behind this bar or at work, I’m fine. I’m confident, and I can bullshit my way through any conversation.

But in real life? I’m a complete mess. I’ve always been a wallflower. I’m in the background, observing. I don’t want to be the center of attention, and I don’t want to be picked out of a crowd.