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I’d had no idea if my parents would take to Ryan; if they’d treat him with too much awe on my father’s part or disdain on my mother’s. I wasn’t sure if Ryan could fit into my family dynamic, or if the entire experience would be mind-bogglingly uncomfortable.
But he fit. My parents treated him the same way they treated all of my friends: like we were still children, but my parents were trying to remember that we thought we were adults. They grilled him thoroughly about his family and his upbringing and his life. Football became an afterthought, even to my father. And my mother, whose dispassionate regard for sports may have been genetic, couldn’t have cared less.
Ryan seemed to like that.
“Go on, then,” I told Mom after dinner, once we were alone in the kitchen. Dad had escaped to his study, while Ryan took a call after I assured him it was fine. After all, I wanted to talk to my mother alone. “What did you think?”
Mom sounded half-amazed. “He’s very nice.”
“What’s that mean? Do you like him?” I was a little surprised by how much I wanted her approval.
“Yes, I do.” She paused in loading the dishwasher and wiped her purple-gloved hand across her forehead, leaving a streak of soap bubbles. “I’m just not sure what the two of you have in common.”
I leaned against the counter. “We have a lot in common.”
She raised her hands placatingly, which raised my hackles even more. “Maybe you do. I’m just not sure what it is. He seems like a very nice boy, it’s just that...I worry about you, Rachael.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I’m sure I don’t.”
The unsaid “but” dangled in the air, and I narrowed my eyes as she refused to go on without prompting. “Fine. Why do you worry about me?”
Now she frowned. “I just worry that you make very strong attachments. While Ryan seems very nice...I don’t know, Rach, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I crossed my arms. “You just met him.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything...”
No, I wanted to snap, you shouldn’t have. But I bit that back, since I did value my mother’s opinions. Besides, how could I blame her? I had judged Ryan just as shallowly when I first met him. And she had admitted she liked him; she just worried a jock and a nerd had nothing to bond over. Once she saw how well we fit together, everything would be fine.
That evening, we headed over to my friend Zac’s. I could hear David’s frown on the phone when he called to remind me about Sophie’s little party, but I’d promised Thomas I’d attend this shindig three months ago. Besides, Sophie hadn’t gone so far as to actually label this an anniversary party, so I felt in the clear.
We zoomed along the narrow and bumpy tree-lined streets of Ashbury in Ryan’s little car, Christmas jingles already making their way onto the radio. “So, your friends. Are they all like you?”
I glanced over and realized his arms were tense as he held the wheel. I probably shouldn’t have found that cute, but I did. “I’m not sure they’re like me, but we all grew up together. So everyone feels incredibly familiar. But they’re all really sweet. And super friendly.”
He must have heard the persuading note in my voice, because he glanced at me with raised brows. “Are you worried for me? I’m super friendly too, you know.”
“Look at the road. And yes, I know all about how friendly you are when you first meet people. You’re just super polite and not intimidating at all.”
“It’s like my super power.”
I just looked at him.
“Too many supers?”
“Too many.”
Zac’s door was open, and so we walked through and down the stairs to the furnished basement. The beige paint, the high ceilings, the framed family portraits were all a time-sink back into my childhood. We entered the carpeted basement, a room filled with movie posters, ping-pong and foosball and an old fashioned Coke machine. People I’d known since kindergarten lounged on couches and sat on unmatched chairs, faces lit up as they laughed and chattered. The door on the far right opened into a mini-kitchen, complete with sink and stocked fridge.
I knocked on the door frame. “Hi, guys!”
“Rachael!” my friends chorused, with heartwarming happiness. Madison, the closest of the quartet, threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek. “Hello, love!” Then I spun down the line, hugging meditative Rae and indie Andi and poor balding Kevin. Being with them was as easy as lying alone on my couch. I could have been eight or twelve or eighteen—we’d all done this so many times before.
“Hey, Rach!” Liz and Zac, our idea-filled power couple greeted me. Liz’s hair might be longer and Zac’s clothes better cut, but other than that nothing had changed. Zac lifted me off the floor in a bear hug, and then set me down next to Thomas, who grinned and enveloped me in his arms.
I smiled back at him, and then pulled away, spinning back to the door. During the round of hugs Ryan had stood by the entrance, and he looked like he was ready to be tackled any moment. I grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the room, where he dwarfed everyone else by at least three inches and sheer muscle. Andi spit up Coke into her cup. Silence descended.
