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“Ryan is a good friend,” I reply. “And his band is great. You should come. It’ll be fun.”
“Right. So I can stand around watching you lust after your ex-boyfriend? No thanks.”
I laugh and lean on my forearms to look at him. “You sound jealous, James.”
“I am jealous,” he says. “You told me flat-out you couldn’t resist him on stage.”
“That was before I was with you,” I reply, wondering even as I say it if I’m actually ‘with’ James.
“Why don’t we just go out of town for the weekend?” he asks. “We could go to DC.”
“You can’t possibly be that worried about Ryan,” I say. “I had ample opportunity to hook up with him the last time he was here and I didn’t, so why would I now?”
“It’s not all about keeping you from Ryan,” he says. “I just want an entire weekend where I get you to myself. I’m tired of sneaking around all the time.”
“So why are we sneaking around then?”
“You know why,” he says quietly. “We live with Allison’s brother. And we both know Ginny would blame you if this got out.”
If this got out. His assumption that there will never be anything to tell. His assumption that this will end.
I slide away from him.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I reply, going to the bathroom and locking the door behind me. I splash water over my face and force myself to at least look blank rather than hurt, but when I come out, he’s the one who looks disturbed.
“You missed a call,” he says, handing me my phone. “Why is Edward Ferris still calling you?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I stopped listening to the voicemails. He was … a little unhinged the last time we spoke.”
“And when was that?”
“Why are you acting like I’ve done something wrong?”
“I’m not. I just want to know when you spoke to him.”
I shrug. “A few weeks ago. I told you about it. The time he told me he had a job and wanted me to come to the Hamptons. That was the last time.”
“Did you save the voicemails?” he asks.
“I have the last several, just because I haven’t deleted them,” I say. “Honestly just seeing his name on my phone makes me feel sick. I guess you’re going to tell me it’s immature to avoid it.”
“No,” he says, pulling me to sit beside him. “But it pisses me off that he’s doing this to you. And I think you should be monitoring what he’s saying.”
“You can listen if you want,” I tell him. “But delete them when you’re done. I don’t want to hear them. And I don’t want to know.”
He nods and gets dressed, carrying my phone outside. If it’s a fling, why is he this bothered by Edward? I go into the kitchen, watching him on the deck as he listens. It was stupid of me to think he’d want more than a fling. Why would he? He was stuck with Allison all year and now he’s getting ready to finish school and get a real job. Why on earth would he want to saddle himself with some long-distance girlfriend who’s only 19?
Maybe he’s dying to get back to school, to shrug off his clingy housemate and start fresh. And suddenly I’m not sure I can endure the next few weeks knowing that’s the case. I steel myself to ask him point blank, but waver when he walks back inside. His body is rigid, his hand holding the phone in such a tight grip I’m surprised it doesn’t snap.
“You need to call the police, Elle,” he says, his voice oddly quiet.
“The police?” I gasp. “That can’t be nec … ”
“It is,” he cuts me off. “It is necessary. I don’t even want you to listen to what he says on those voicemails. They’re filthy. And obsessive. He’s out of his fucking mind. He even suggested coming down here.”
“I never did anything with him,” I tell him warily, wondering if those messages imply otherwise. “I don’t know what he said but he’s never laid a finger on me.”
