35
Ryan
“Here are the pizzas, guys!” Chris puts the boxes down on the counter. “Can one of you two get off your arse and come and give me a hand?”
Her tone is sarcastic, but it has a different effect on me.
I watch her, so mature and ladylike, then I look at her son, still a boy who could be my younger brother. Then I look down at myself, and think of what my dad says: that I’m not a real man yet.
Being in this house with them makes no sense. I keep asking myself what I was thinking when I said I’d like to stay for dinner.
“Let’s just eat them right out of the box,” Evan says, grabbing the pizzas and bringing them through to the living room.
“But Evan…”
“What? Do we have to pretend we don’t usually do that?”
I was wrong. That boy could actually be myolderbrother.
“We have…guests,” she says through gritted teeth.
“It’s only Ryan,” he says, so naturally. The problem is that his words reallydosound natural.
Christine gives in and sits on the armchair, while me and Evan share the sofa.
“We’d all fit on here, you know.”
“I’m more comfortable over here,” she says, but I know she’s only over there because I’m over here.
“But you can’t see the TV from there.”
“I’m sure you’ve chosen something I’ll hate anyway.”
“We’ve chosenBegin Again.”
“R-really?” she asks, surprised.
“I know how much you like Mark Ruffalo.”
“That’s not true,” she says, a blush creeping up her neck. “It’s not like I sit there drooling over him, but he’s such a…man.”
A man. Exactly. That’s what Christine wants. A man. Real, grown-up, mature – someone to take care of her.
“And you’re the only woman, so it seemed fair to compromise,” Evan adds.
“Okay, if you want – but I don’t want to hear you complaining.”
Christine speaks to both of us. I’m in her house for the first time, having dinner with them, and she’s already speaking in the plural. And I can’t decide if it annoys me, or if I like it. Either way, I can say with absolute certainty that it terrifies the fuck out of me.
“What do you want to drink, Ryan?” Christine asks politely.
“Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”
“Beer?”
“Perfect.”
She gets up and goes back into the kitchen. I follow the movement of her butt with my eyes – she’s wearing something tight-fitting which reminds me of last night, of sliding my hands over her skin. When I held her, feeling her heat on my fingers. And I think I want to feel it all over again.
