I took a sip, not really wanting it but needing something to do with my hands. “It was good.” I followed him to the sectional and made myself comfortable a few feet away from him. “How was your evening?”
He picked up the remote lying next to him, motioned to the large screen he had on the wall, and tossed the remote on the table. “Not nearly as exciting, I’m sure,” he said in a monotone voice. He took another sip of his drink, and I couldn’t help wondering how many he’d had.
I toed off my shoes and curled up further. “You okay?”
He let out a forced, almost cutting laugh. “Okay?” He tilted his head then finished his drink and walked into the dining room. “No. I’m not okay.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He froze for a minute. “About what?”
“About Riley. It was a crappy way for her to end things.”
I heard ice clinking in the glass. “It’s just how she is. I knew who she was when I got involved with her. It wasn’t as if I was in love with her or anything.”
“You weren’t?”
He came sauntering back into the room, his face contorted in indignation. “No.” Without looking at me, he went to stand by the mantel. But he wasn’t acting like the Shaw I knew, all stiff lines and impersonal.
“Shaw—”
“You know what I was thinking about this evening?” he asked, slowly pacing around the room.
He didn’t give me a chance to guess. “I was thinking about prom.” He had been prom king, of course, and his date had happened to be prom queen.
“Prom?”
“Yeah. And about that guy you went with. Brent or something?”
“Brett Miller. He was on the soccer team and in my English class.”
He waved off the details. “Yes. Before he got the nerve, I thought about asking you.”
“You did? Why?”
He ignored my question. “I wanted to ask you.”
“But you were going with Chloe.” I stepped near him.
“I wanted to ask you.” He pointed at me, glass in hand. “But then that Brett guy jumped in before I got my head out of my ass.” He took a sip of his drink. “So, when Chloe asked me, I said yes.” He shot me a side-eye glare and shrugged.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I tried to grab you for a dance, but?—”
“Chloe was climbing you the entire night,” I said.
“Yeah, well, Brett almost lost his hands when I saw them on your ass.”
I gawked. “That’s not true.” None of this was making any sense. Shaw had been the most eligible guy in our senior year. He’d grown out of his awkward teen years and had filled in that lanky frame I’d always teased him about. And boy, did he fill in. The popular, gorgeous girls had been nice to me just because I was his friend. They hadn’t even been jealous, because they knew he was so out of my league. In fact, it had been one of Chloe’s friends who’d set me up with Brett.
He shook his head and took another sip, staring out the window. Then he pulled out his phone and put down his glass. After a moment, music started to play through the speakers.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m prying my head out of my ass,” he said as he took my hand, walked us to the back porch, and turned on the soft lights I had helped him string up a few weeks before. Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” started to play through his portable speaker. “Dance with me,” he said, extending his hand out to me as if it were a scene in my most romantic dream.
I stepped back. “What is this about, Shaw?” Was this because I went on a date?
