Page 16 of No One But Us

“Oh. I’m still at the beach.”

Is that what I should have said? Probably not. But in the moment my mind is blank.

“No problem,” he says. “I’ll call you next week. But let me know if you come home sooner. I miss seeing your face.”

I hang up and lay the phone on the counter, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

“What did he say?” asks Max.

I shrug. “He’s going to find me something else.”

James’ voice comes next, low and suspicious. “Then why don’t you look happy?”

“He wanted to come to my dad’s place to ‘discuss’ it with me.”

I hear James’ hiss from across the room. “If I ever run into that guy, he’s going to discuss it with my fist.”

Max is more sanguine. “She’s a pretty girl, James. It won’t be the first or last time it happens. Consider this her chance to learn how to deal with it.”

“Girl is the key word,” James growls. “He’s old enough to be her grandfather.”

That’s a bit of a stretch, but what I like least is the fact that James seems bound and determined to see me as a child.

* * *

Max and I go to yoga again. In spite of his constant references to dating me (well, actually “dating” is a somewhat unspecific term for what he references), I’ve discovered that Max is harmless. We have an easy back-and-forth, a kind of Luke-and-Leia vibe that could never be more than friendship.

On the way home, I’m so drenched in sweat that it looks like I took a swim. “If Ginny’s Skyping with Alex and won’t let me in again, I’m going to kill her.”

More than once I’ve found myself locked out for Ginny’s chats—mostly to Alex but occasionally to Allison, oddly enough. I’ve never once heard James talk to Allison, but Ginny seems to chat with her every day.

“Skyping? Are you serious?”

I shrug. “He’s her boyfriend, and they’re apart all summer. Why shouldn’t they talk?”

“The only times I’ve ever Skyped a girl, there was nudity involved and a lot more than that.”

I laugh. “Not in a million years would either of them do that. Especially not Alex. He and Ginny are so alike they scare me sometimes.”

“Yeah. That’s perfect. I bet the two of them can get together and have no fun for hours or even days at a time,” he says. “In my opinion, the last thing she needs is to date someone just like herself.”

We walk into the backyard to dump our yoga mats. It’s not until we’re feet away that I realize James is lying in the grass doing sit-ups. Shirtless. He seems to have twice the number of muscles a human torso should contain. And his arms…flexed as he pulls forward…Jesus. I’m pretty sure modern science hasn’t come up with a name for all of the muscles in his arms. He may be a new species entirely.

“Well, well,” whispers Max, grinning as he catches me staring. “What’s this?”

I narrow my eyes. “I was just startled.”

“Sure,” he says. “I always drool when I’m startled too.”

James sees us and sits up, casting a narrowed eye at our yoga mats. “When did the two of you become workout buddies?”

“When the opportunity to stand behind Elle in downward-facing dog became a possibility,” Max replies.

I groan. “That had better not be why you’re always behind me.”

“Fine, tomorrow you can be behind me. I’ll be doing yoga in your cut-off jean shorts, FYI.”

I laugh, but James, standing in place with his arms folded across his chest, does not. He is, in fact, glaring at both of us, as if we’ve done something wrong.