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CHAPTER TWELVE
RYLAN
Ispot Isla standing by the hostess stand as soon as I step inside Gaffney’s. It’s busy and noisy inside the bar, which isn’t surprising. The few times I came here in high school, all the summer before starting college, it was packed.
A relief then, since I was underage and felt less conspicuous because it was so crowded.
At age twenty-one, weaving through the crowd is more of an inconvenience.
“Hey!” Isla greets me once I make it over to her.
We hug, then head toward the back of the bar. Isla texted me yesterday afternoon, saying tonight was trivia at Gaffney’s and asking if I wanted to go with her.
My Abstract Algebra class meets at nine a.m. tomorrow, and we have our first quiz of the semester. I should be reviewing my notes and getting a solid eight hours of sleep.
But I’m sick of being Responsible Rylan.
In Boston, I used school as an excuse anytime I was unsure or uncomfortable. Which was often, especially around Walker’s friends, who didn’t make much of an attempt to get to know me.And I was determined to get perfect grades as reassurance to my parents Boston had been the right choice, especially when everything else about going to school there continued to feel wrong.
I’m determined for Holt to be a fresh start socially, not just a new school. If that means showing up to class tomorrow hungover, that’s a college rite of passage, right?
Any awkwardness between me and Isla fades quickly as we catch up on each other’s lives.
We weren’t close friends when we were younger, for no reason except we didn’t get to know each other well by age five and that’s when our respective social circles were formed.
Up until running into her at the game, I hadn’t talked to Isla since graduation. Conversation flows easily as we swap stories about our former classmates. We find a table and take seats on the stools, waiting for the blonde waitress to work her way over here.
I find out that Isla is majoring in computer science and that her parents moved from Somerville to Seattle a year ago because of a new job opportunity her mom was offered. She dated a guy for a few months freshman year but hasn’t had a boyfriend since, so I share I haven’t dated anyone since breaking up with Walker almost a year ago. I don’t mention he cheated, because a part of me still feels ashamed about that detail. Like it was some failure on my part, not his. I know it’s stupid and silly, but I can’t seem to shake it whenever the topic of my ex comes up. Thinking about how Aidan looked at me when I was standing on his deck, pulling my clothes off, helps.
The waitress finally appears, and we both order beers.
“Did you do anything fun over winter break?” Isla asks.
“Uh…” Thefunpart involved the guy I’m working hard not to think about. “I was here, aside from a ski trip.”
“Oh, that’s cool. Where did you go skiing?”
“Vail. With a friend from abroad, her family has a house there.”
“Verynice.”
“Yeah. It was.”
She takes a sip of beer, then laughs and wipes the foam mustache away after I smile and push the napkins toward her. “I’ve never been skiing.”
“It was only my second time. Jess—my friend whose place we were staying at—takes it pretty seriously. I was ready to take a break after a few runs, but she was happy staying out there all day.”
“Are you ladies playing trivia?” A smiling blond guy appears. He’s tall—verytall—and good-looking—verygood-looking.
“We are,” Isla replies, glancing at me and lifting her eyebrows quickly.
One corner of my mouth lifts as he rests one elbow on our table.
“I’m Clayton.”
“Isla.”
“Rylan,” I tell him.
