“I’m sorry about before,” I say as Ryan shows me out around seven. “When I said I don’t want to have sex with you. Obviously I was under the wrong impression about why you asked me to come over.”
He purses his lips and closes one eye, still somehow being model-level attractive even while looking like he drank straight lemon juice. “No, it’s my fault. I should have been clearer that it would be the entire planning committee, not just you and me. I guess I assumed that you and Hollis are... somehow involved? So it never crossed my mind to clarify that I didn’t intend for it to be a date.”
“Oh no, we’re not—I mean, Hollis is just a...” A guy I’m stuck on a road trip with who is kind of rude but also very sweet, and with whom I shared amomentlast night (and also a queen-sized bed but nothing sexual happened except I really wish something sexual would happen because I find him extremely attractive)? No, that won’t do. “...a friend. Just a friend.”
“Oh,” Ryan says. “Well. Honestly, if I’d known that... maybe I would have tried to make this a date.”
“Really?”
“Duh. You’re gorgeous and funny and a Fleetwood Mac fan. How could I not be into you? Alas. You’re only passing through, and you’ve already decided you don’t want to have sex with me.” Ryan bumps my arm with his. His carefree smile stretches across his handsome face, and I’m annoyed with myself for not wanting him when everything about him is so wantable. “Thanks again for saving my butt with this grand marshal thing,” he says.
“No problem. It should be a lot of fun. Thank you in advancefor the car,” I say. “I promise we’ll get it back to you in one piece. Assuming we don’t encounter any other kamikaze deer.”
Ryan chuckles. “See you at the parade, Millie.”
I stand on my tiptoes and give him a peck on the cheek. “Yeah. Have a good night.”
When I get back to the B&B and key into the Mustard Seed room, I find Hollis laying back on the bed with his tablet propped on his stomach. He jumps slightly, startled, and slams the tablet closed in its case.
“You’re back early,” he says, feigning calm. But even from here I can see his pulse fluttering in his neck.
“Orgies don’t last nearly as long as one might think.” I step out of my sneakers and grab the Bookstore Movers T-shirt I left balled up on top of my suitcase. From the bathroom, as I change out of my clothes, I add, “There were twice as many women as men. We made do, of course, but I think your presence actually would have been welcome. The mayor has a bad shoulder, so Ryan had to pull most of the sexual weight in the more acrobatic positions.” The mirror above the sink shows that I’ve turned vermillion saying this aloud; it’s a good thing Hollis can’t see me.
“Not really my scene,” he says. “But I’m glad you had a good time.”
Once my color fades to some semblance of normal, I stroll out of the bathroom in my borrowed pajamas. “It was a last-minute parade and festival logistics meeting. And of course, thanks to you, I rolled in all ‘Hey, Ryan, I’m not interested in having sex with you.’ I wanted to die.”
Hollis’s eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t blame me. I never told you to do that.”
I stuff my dirty clothes into my suitcase and sit on the end ofthe bed. “Oh, I definitely blame you. Because he said that the reason it wasn’t a sex thing was because he thought you and I were together. You cockblocked me, dude.”
“It sounds to me like you cockblocked yourself. You’re the one who turned him down before you even crossed his threshold.”
“Because you psyched me out, telling me Ryan wanted to crossmythreshold.”
“Except it sounds to me like if he knew you were single he would have wanted to... cross your threshold? God, that’s a stupid way to say that. Besides, I wasn’t wrong, was I?”
I don’t want to admit that once Ryan realized sex could have been on the table he told me he would’ve been game. Hollis is not allowed to be right. “That’s not the point,” I say. “What were you doing when I got back here, anyway?”
Hollis glances away and rubs his ear. That’s his embarrassed gesture, so I definitely don’t believe him when he mumbles, “Nothing.”
The possibility hits me that he was watchingPenelope to the Past. The thought makes my stomach roil a little, and I almost regret asking at all. But now I have to know. “You were clearly watchingsomething. Something you didn’t want me to know about.”
“A movie. I was watching a movie. Okay?”
Relief quashes the pizza rebellion inside my digestive system. “Oh. Which movie? Is it pornographic?” I crawl up the bed, swiping the tablet from where it rests beside him before he can react. He makes a half-hearted grab, but I hold it out of his reach. If it is porn, things are about to get either a lot more interesting or a lot more awkward between us. The tablet turns on with a press of the small button on the side, and—like his phone did in the car last night—the screen lights up without requesting any kind ofpasscode or pattern swipe from me. “You really need to protect your shit better,” I admonish as the page for the movie reloads.
Resume watching, the screen says above a still of Pee-wee Herman holding handfuls of snakes with fire raging behind him.
“Oh my god. You were watchingPee-wee’s Big Adventure!”
“I needed a break from writing, and you said it was good. So.”
“It’s not good, Hollis. It’sgreat. It’s basically my entire philosophy of living. My cousin Dani and I watched it pretty much every day when we were kids. Scoot over.” I tuck myself under the covers beside him. “Now. How far in are you?”
He sighs but adjusts to allow me to move closer until I’m practically in his lap. “Not far. He just finished breakfast.”
“I’m so glad I came back early from that orgy,” I say.
