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I cleared my throat. “Um, this is my boyfriend, Ryan. Carter. Ryan, this is...everyone.”
Everyone looked dumbfounded.
“I could go through everyone’s names.” I spoke a little too quickly, wishing they’d stop gaping like goldfish. “But, uh, there’s so many it might not be that useful.” Everyone just kept staring, and I started to feel a little irritated with my friends. What happened to the warm environment I’d promised Ryan? I gave Zac a pointed look. “This is Zac’s place.”
Zac finally reached out to shake Ryan’s hand. “Hey, man.”
Ryan smiled a little tightly. “Hey.”
Andi, never known for tact, spoke loudly, as though she was double-checking. “Ryan Carter. The football player.”
“Yeah.” He kept the syllable short, and his eyes sought mine.
I leaned into him. “He’s also a very talented crayon cartographer, punster, and he makes mean French toast.” I met Carly and Kate’s eyes and begged them to say something.
Carly jumped on it. “Just so you know, we’re all Patriots fans here. No hard feelings, right?”
Everyone laughed, and the tension broke. Soon, people clustered around Ryan, brutally curious about the life of a pro-athlete. More of my friends than I had realized exhibited an unexpected amount of sports knowledge, and one or two actually had Ryan’s passes and plays down game for game.
Stealth sport fans.
I waited until his smile had changed from the one he used on fans to a genuine grin, and then I slipped away to the bathroom. Before coming back, I detoured into the kitchen to get us glasses of water. I couldn’t keep a huge grin off my face, and warmth bubbled in my belly. They liked him. They liked my boyfriend.
I almost giggled.
Glasses in hand, I headed back for the living room. Thomas blocked the doorway.
He shook his head. “Wow, Ryan Carter. I never would’ve guessed you’d date a football player.”
I grinned up at him. “Me neither. Who would have guessed?” Since we stood leaning in the doorway, I was able to throw a glance over at Ryan, and see him talking animatedly with Zac and Liz and Pierce and Rae.
“He just doesn’t seem like your type. I mean—football? With that many concussions, the guy can’t use his brain that much.”
What the hell? I reined back my angry retort, knowing it wasn’t fair when I’d originally thought the same thing. Still, my words were sharp and terse. “Hey. Injuries aren’t funny. And he’s very smart.”
“Okay.” Then he smirked. “But doesn’t he make you think of the other quarterback we knew? Chris Howell?”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Ryan isn’t anything like Chris Howell. Chris slept through half his classes and ended up at business school because he’s obviously going to work at his mom’s company. Ryan’s a pro athlete.”
“So he’s like Chris on steroids.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Stop it.”
He raised his hands. “Okay. I’ll have to take your word on it.”
“Yeah, you will.” I ducked past him shaking my head. Seriously. Of all the people to be irritated by Ryan’s presence, I wouldn’t have expected Thomas to be one of them. He’d had plenty of friends who played sports, and he was generally open-minded.
“Who was that?” Ryan said when I reached his side again.
“What? Oh, Thomas. Good friend.”
Ryan looked around the room “They all seem to be good friends.”
I laughed. “Funny, huh? We were a weirdly close group.”
“Seems dumb to have a reunion when you’re still all in touch.”
“Hit the nail on the head. But I think that’s why we’re all going. Since we have each other as a buffer, but we’ll still get to watch the other groups without feeling uncomfortable.”
