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“He?” smirks Max.
“Yes,” I sigh. “He.”
“And is he someone who will be staying in your room, perchance?”
James’s face gets stormier still.
“I don’t care where he sleeps. I don’t even care if you say no. He’s asking me,” I say, holding my phone aloft. “So I’m asking you.”
Max looks at James and then grins even wider. “Sure, he can stay,” he says with slightly too much enthusiasm. “Any friend of Elle’s is a friend of ours, right James?”
James turns his glare toward Max, and then back to me. “He stays on the first floor,” he warns. God his voice is hot when he’s being bossy. It makes my insides completely liquid. “He sets one foot on those stairs and I’m throwing his ass out.”
I roll my eyes. “You know, if you’re trying to preserve your sister’s chastity, I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.”
Max laughs. “Yeah, James. Stop worrying so much about Ginny.”
James scowls at both of us. “Whatever. First floor or he leaves this house missing parts.”
**
James stops me as I’m leaving work on Friday night. “I’m almost done,” he says. “I’ll give you a ride.” I’ve given up trying to drive to work entirely, as my car is always parked in three-deep at the house.
I glance at my watch.
“What’s your hurry?” he asks a little sourly. “You have plans?”
“No, but Ryan is waiting. I feel like a bad host.” He rolls his eyes, and I don’t get the sense that he plans to hurry on my behalf or Ryan’s tonight.
“So who is this guy anyway?” he asks as we – finally — walk outside.
“My ex-boyfriend,” I tell him. The door slams a little loudly as he climbs in.
“You didn’t mention the whole boyfriend part before,” he says.
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
He has no answer for that. “Is he here to see you?”
“No, not at all. He had this gig lined up before I even knew I’d be down here.”
“Gig?” he hisses. “Is he in a band?” As if I’d said Ryan was out on parole.
“Yes, Dad,” I laugh. “He’s in a band. And he has a tattoo, if that’s your next question.”
His jaw grinds. “You dated a guy in a band? What band?”
“Far Too Far,” I say.
“They play here every summer,” he says. He doesn’t seem happy about it. “So how old is this guy?”
I laugh again. “Jesus, James. You’ve now asked me four questions more about him than my dad ever has.”
“That’s because your dad is a selfish asshole.”
“Well, yeah.” He’s kind of got me there.
“So answer the question.”
