He tilts his head to the side and swallows. “I notice everything you do, Chirp.”
My ears start to burn. I turn to eat my weird burger. I’m a little freaked out by the fact that Ryan has seen me. Like, actually seen me. Not just the odd little sister that I’ve been for so long.
This big, hunky guy thought I was interesting enough to keep tabs on. Huh. Well, that doesn’t bode well for my crush on him. I’m actually starting to really like him as a person. RIP me.
We eat in silence for a moment before I attempt conversation again.
“Good sandwich.”
He has now finished his. Even though he’s had it for less than four minutes. He’s currently stuffing french fries in his mouth. He just nods.
I feel like right now I am just tired enough and just catty enough to ask about my brother’s visit toThe Last Kissset.
“So… I didn’t realize I was your type.”
Ryan coughs on a french fry and then chews and swallows, scrunching his face up. “What are you talking about?”
I take a bite of my turkey burger and chew, giving him a few moments to think. Then I say, “Well, you know. Hot messes. Bad boundaries. Fun for a week.”
Basically… everything I’m not. Or maybe I secretly am, but just quieter about it.
His shoulders deflate. “Yeah, fucking Jay. I know he’s your brother, but I could’ve killed him for that.”
“It was interesting, that’s for sure. Especially the part about ghosting.”
He sighs and pulls the last few french fries from the container, then points them at me. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“He exaggerated, did he?” I finally look at him because it sounded pretty rehearsed.
He shakes his head. “I haven’t ghosted anyone in a while. Like, probably a couple years at least.”
“Wow. What a glowing record,” I say.
He finishes the fries and sits back, eyeing my untouched container of them. I push them toward him and he takes a couple out but then pushes the rest back.
“So, what? You think I’m proud of that?”
I thumb a little barbecue sauce from my lower lip and watch him noticing. It’s funny how once a guy notices you, he keeps doing it.
“I think you’re fine with it,” I say.
“Wren, I know you’re not like those girls.”
“Who says I’m not? Are they aliens or astronauts or something else unreasonable? Because if not, you don’t know what I am or what they are not.”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m pretty sure I’ve got you pegged.”
“Oh yeah? I’m not looking to be a fling or a plot twist or a deleted scene.”
That gives him pause. He frowns and hesitates for a second. “You’re not.”
“No.”
I inhale, my breath shakier than I want it to be. “If this is just a bit for the show, it ends the same way all your stories seem to end.”
“It won’t,” he says. “It can’t.”
I arch a brow. “Do you tell all your one-night stands that, too?”
