Oh. He is playing dirty now. With the sexy voice and the implication that he is referring to me with that statement.
The server returns with his beer and Ronan thanks him, taking a long swig of the beer. He lets out a satisfied sigh.
“Better?”
“Much.”
For the first time since my sister walked away, I remember where we are and glance around. Most of the people are enjoying the day, not paying us any attention but there are a few people staring. Including Francesca.
“Seriously…” Ronan leans forward and rests his elbows on the table.
The move brings us much closer together. I resist the urge to pull back. Or move closer. I’ve not decided which.
“What is it with you and Franny?”
It can’t hurt to tell him how we know each other. It could if I told him why. Despite this strange set of circumstances where I’ve enjoyed bantering with a rock star, he is still brothers with Francesca’s husband.
“We went to high school together.”
Ronan looks over at the happy couple, who are heading toward a table where there is a ridiculously large cake waiting for them. Goody, one more stupid tradition out of the way so I can grab my sister and get out of here.
Although that thought seems less appealing than it did ten minutes ago.
“Ah, and that has something to do with the purple hair, I’m guessing.”
My attention snapsback to Ronan.
“She was complaining about it. I guess you hadn’t snuck up on them till after she said that.”
“I didn’t sneak up on anyone. I was looking for my earring.”
It’s true, I lost my earring when I went to the bathroom. It’s a good job they’re cheap costume jewelry because I never found it.
Wow though, I can’t believe she brought up the purple hair. That was a good one. It was worth the week of detention. And her coming into school for two full weeks with purple hair as punishment from her mom, who found out what her daughter was capable of.
“If you do something for me, maybe I’ll give you a couple of songs for the mixtape.”
“Still not gonna tell me?” When I don’t answer, he drinks more beer.
The host announces the cutting of the cake. Instead of getting up to move closer, he watches me.
“Hmm, is this us making a bargain, or is it a bribe?”
“Neither.” I finish my champagne. “But there is something I want and, given my…” I pout and look over at Francesca. “History,” I say after thinking of how to phrase it, “with the bride, she’s likely to set fire to it before she ever gives it to me.”
“Well, shit, now I’m intrigued. What is it you want?”
“A picture.”
Ronan’s face drops.
“Not of you.” I nudge his knee with mine.
Big mistake, the electricity from that touch shocks rightthough me. If the way he is looking at me is anything to go by, he felt that too. Anyway.
“The photographer got a shot of me and Emma. I’d like a copy.”
Ronan leans back in his seat, bemused by the request. “Why that picture?”
