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Is that a good thing? “It’s Brylee.”
“I know.”
He does?
His gaze slides down my soaked top, and he tilts his head to the side. His eyes narrow and seem to go darker.
No idea why my breath catches in my throat.
Then Candy laughs, a tinkly sound. “Come on, Bry. Let’s go ignore this unknown guy someplace else. You should change clothes.”
“My name’s Ryan,” he says, and I blink stupidly at him.
God, I know.
I know your name, your family name, your address and your obsession with healthy food. I know who your father is, though not your mother, but I do know about your cousins and your habit of smelling other people’s coffee at the vending machine while you never buy your own.
I know you haven’t dated a single girl—or boy—for years, if the wagging tongues at the office are to be trusted. Oh, you’ve slept with a few, just for one night, never returning to their beds.
I know you, Ryan Prince Dawson.
But I can’t seem to get my mouth to work, and Candy hauls me away before I find the words to tell him anything.
Just as well. It would have ruined the plan.
I’m ignoring him, remember? And if I ever heard his name, it has long been erased from my memory.
It’s a tough plan, but somebody’s got to go through with it. Someone has to show him what he’s missing, and well, eventually make him a good wife.
Might as well be me.
As soon as I wash off the stickiness from my face.
***
“When will you give up?” Candy mutters as we change, and I wash myself as best as possible at the sink of the locker room.
Is that a trick question?
“He was laughing, Bry.”
“He’s too tense,” I say stubbornly. “He needs to laugh more.”
So there.
And now that I’ve said it, I realize it might even be true.
“Bry…”
“I’m thinking of getting my nipples pierced,” I say.
Candy splutters. “What? Why?”
I shrug. “It sounds sexy. Simone had hers done last week.”
Candy gapes at me.
What?
