Page 4 of Unforgettable Player

“Gah, why does he have to be here?”

Even without her boots on, Scout’s footsteps are more like stomps. Naomi will be up in a minute asking what all the racket is.

“It’s just a few weeks,” I remind her.

“It’s our few weeks, Eli. This is supposed to be our vacation time.”

I look up from the Patti Smith record I’d been studying. “Scout, we live a ten-minute drive from each other. I’m sure we’ll survive one summer with your brother hanging around.”

She growls and throws herself onto the bed. “It’s still not fair. You could have had his room if he’d stayed in California.”

My face floods with heat at the thought of sleeping in Connor’s bed. Scout looks up with an accusatory squint. “Please tell me you don’t still have a crush on him.”

“What? I … pfft … I never had a crush on Connor.”

Scout leans up on one elbow to bring her glare a few inches closer to my face. “Elliot … promise me you’re not still pining for my idiot, neanderthal, dude-bro brother.”

I scoff. Surely she can see how red my face is? I manage to compose myself enough to reply without spluttering this time. “I’ve never ‘pined for’ your brother.”

She rolls her eyes and flops onto her back. “Come on, you weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

A cold sweat starts at the base of my neck. “What do you mean?”

“You went all googly eyed every time he was in the same room.”

“I did not.”

“And he loved it.”

Oh my God, Connor knew I had a stupid crush on him?

“Scout, your brother is straight and I don’t have a crush on him.” The lie feels like vinegar on my tongue, but it’s necessary. Scout is extremely sensitive about her friends being attracted to Connor.

“Him being straight is the only reason I didn’t care about your stupid crush. Doesn’t mean he didn’t still love the attention, though.”

I desperately rack my brain for evidence of my obvious crush. All I can bring forth is memories of Connor walking around in sweatpants, eating cereal out of the box, drinking orange juice straight from the carton, bickering with Scout, scratching his bare belly while watching TV, climbing out of the pool, dripping with water…. Nope.

I’m sure if he suspected I had a childish crush back then, he doesn’t assume it still stands, right? I’m an adult now. I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve had actual sex with another human being. I do not still fantasize about Connor Ryan taking my virginity and declaring his undying love for me directly afterward.

Scout jumps up from the bed to move the needle on the record player.

“Whatever. Just don’t let him take over our summer.” She turns and flashes me a wolfish grin. "This summer, Elliot Bancroft, you’re mine.”

When we go downstairs for dinner, Connor’s leaning against the counter in a well-worn Harvard t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Oh great, like he couldn’t have found a less erotic outfit to wear?

Of course I still think he’s hot. The entire male-attracted population would appreciate the man standing in front of me. But I’m used to being attracted to people who don’t reciprocate. Connor Ryan was just the first—and most notable—in a long list.

It isn’t just that he has perfect proportions or an amazing six pack. In fact, Connor’s beauty is anything but basic. I’ve spent hours studying his face, and I can say wholeheartedly that Connor is so much more than boringly handsome. Even his so-called imperfections are endearing. Like the slightly hooked nose, or the freckles and tiny moles covering his neck, chest, and shoulders. Or those two sharp teeth that give the impression of fangs. His small ears and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. His skin is olive-toned and tans easily, but he looks just as good when he’s paler in the winter months. Connor Ryan is in possession of a unique and breathtaking beauty, and you know the worst thing?—He isn’t even a dick about it. It makes him impossible to forget.

He’s smiling at something his dad said when we walk in, but when he looks at me, something changes on his face. He quickly looks away.

I flinch. What was that? Did I do something to piss him off? Does it have something to do with why he was staring at me outside?

I tell myself I’m being paranoid and take a seat at the table.

“What’s for dinner?” Scout asks. “Is that Dad’s spaghetti sauce?”

“Hold up, honey. Your brother brought us all gifts back from California.”