“No, nommmDad,” Ryan cuts in.
“Uh-huh.”
“Nouh-huhseither.”
His father raises his hands and pretends to hear his wife calling from inside. “Excuse me, my better half needs me in there,” he laughs.
“Oh, come on!” Ryan says, gesturing exasperatedly, but his father takes no notice and disappears indoors.
We stand there in the garden, in silence, staring at our shoes. Or rather, he stares at his, as I stare at least five feet higher than that, counting his abs.
Jesus Christ.
He’s a work of art.
“So…how come you’re here?” he asks, interrupting my X-ray observation of his torso.
“I just thought I’d come and see how your father is doing.”
“Sure.”
“I brought a cake.”
God, I am such an idiot. Why did I need to say that?
“I’m sure my parents appreciate it,” he says, flatly.
“So…do you live here?” I ask.
What the fuck am I thinking?
“I just came to help out in the garden. I’m a bit too old to be living with my parents,” he replies, almost bitter.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, wanting to justify myself.
He shrugs.
I clear my throat. “Last night…well, I…”
“You don’t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have come to your house unannounced like that. You hadcompany,” he says, emphasising the last word.
“You could’ve come in.”
“I didn’t want to disturb.”
“You wouldn’t have,” I say, clearing things up.
“Well, that isn’t what it looked like,” he shoots back, seemingly angrier now.
This guy has some serious attitude problems.
“Anyway, you don’t need to explain anything to me,” he continues.
“Exactly.”
Okay, now I’m angry too.
Could we be any more stupid?
