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My first instinct is to push him away, only I don’t. I want to see what he’s up to.
Turns out our ‘gathering with elderly friends’ is some sort of game night at a senior center. The old timers look pretty psyched about it, even more so when they spot Ethan, his two work friends, and me.
Yup, he brought Jasper and Leo.
We rode together from the city to Long Island in an SUV one of the guys rented for the occasion. I was assigned the front passenger seat, spending almost the entire drive staring out my side window, wondering how the hell I got roped into an evening with three guys I barely know and their senior citizen friends.
I could be home in my plushy robe, the one I got at the Barefoot Dreams sample sale, drinking mint tea and rewatching the second season of Sex and the City.
But no. I’m wearing a cute little dress and ankle boots because I want to look nice for a bunch of old people I don’t know, and who I will probably never see again.
After Ethan’s spontaneous kiss, the woman turns to me—her name is Trudy, her husband George—and beams. “Aren’t you just lovely. I’ve heard so much about you, Ava.”
My head snaps in Ethan’s direction, but he just continues smiling. Jasper and Leo, slightly in the background, cover smirks with their hands.
Is this some kind of joke?
“Oh look, the cookies are out,” she exclaims. She grabs George’s hand and they crowd the table with the other residents.
I turn to Ethan and give him my best death glare.
He raises his hands in protest. “Look, Ava, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. These old timers have really good cookies.”
“What about the girlfriend part, where your little friend Trudy says you ‘told her all about me’?” I snap, using air quotes.
He waves away my concern like it’s an annoying fly. “Oh, she just has an active imagination. I never said any such thing.”
I glare harder, but when I see the excitement on the seniors’ faces, it’s hard to stay pissed.
“Hey, they have some killer fruit punch over there. Can I get you guys one? Jas? Eth?” Leo asks.
“Dude, when have you ever had fruit punch in your life?” Jasper asks.
“I haven’t. But this stuff is great,” he says, raising a dainty cup to his lips, which he holds by the tiny handle between his giant fingers.
He looks ridiculous. He really does. But I’ve never been one to turn away sweets, so I head over to the table.
“Honey.” There’s a tap at my elbow, causing me to dribble the punch down my chin. I wipe up with the back of my hand while I turn to see Trudy.
“Oh, hello there.” I might be annoyed with Ethan into tricking me into coming here, but I can’t take it out on Trudy, whose kind, wrinkled face is nothing less than completely adorable.
She reaches for my hand with her crooked, slightly shaking one. “Come sit over here, dear, so we can chat.”
We settle in on a bench against the wall, and I chug the rest of my punch, hoping I don’t have one of those Kool-Aid mustaches you get when you’re a kid.
“Thank you for coming with Ethan,” she says, looking adoringly in his direction. “He’s such a nice boy.”
It occurs to me she probably knows more about him than I do. So I play along.
“Yes, he is,” I say, looking over to him and the guys chatting up Trudy’s husband George. He’s holding them rapt, sharing a story.
Something about sports, I imagine.
“How do you know him, Trudy?” I ask.
She settles in like she’s gearing up for a long story, which is not good because I’m starting to have to pee. “He was our neighbor in the city. We met him on his first day in New York. George took him out to his favorite bar for a beer while I made a roast for dinner.”
Oh my god. I didn’t know people like this existed in New York.
