Page 24 of No One But Us

James’ face gets stormier still.

“I don’t care where he sleeps. I don’t even care if you say no. He’s asking me,” I say, holding my phone aloft. “So I’m asking you.”

Max looks at James and grins even wider. “Sure, he can stay,” he says with slightly too much enthusiasm. “Any friend of Elle’s is a friend of ours, right, James?”

James turns his glare toward Max, and then back to me. “He stays on the first floor,” he warns. God, his voice is hot when he’s being bossy. It makes my insides completely liquid. “He sets one foot on those stairs, and I’m throwing his ass out.”

I roll my eyes. “You know, if you’re trying to preserve your sister’s chastity, I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.”

Max laughs. “Yeah, James. Stop worrying so much about Ginny.”

“Whatever. First floor or he leaves this house missing parts,” says James.

* * *

I am not able to get off the schedule on Friday, the night Ryan gets in. He’s already at the house, being entertained by Ginny and Max, when James and I head home.

“So who is this guy anyway?” James asks as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“My ex-boyfriend,” I tell him. The door slams a little harder than it should.

“You didn’t mention the whole boyfriend part before,” he says. “So why is he here?”

“He has a gig somewhere down at Dewey.”

“Gig?” he hisses. “Is he in a band?”

To listen to him you’d think I’d just said Ryan was out on parole.

“Yes, Dad. He’s in a band. And he has a tattoo, if that’s your next question.”

His jaw grinds. “What band?”

“Far Too Far,” I say.

“They play here every summer,” he says, as if this is a bad thing. “So how old is this guy?”

I don’t like his demanding tone, or the way he seems to think I owe him these answers, and yet there’s something compelling about it too. I just wish it was jealousy on his part and not some misplaced big brother-type concern.

“Jesus, James. You’ve now asked me four questions more about him than my dad ever has.”

“That’s because your dad is a selfish asshole.”

“Well, yeah.” He’s kind of got me there. “Fine. He’s 22.” James rolls his eyes. Every answer I provide seems to wind him tighter. “Why are you acting like I’m bringing home a 50 year old?”

“I’m not,” he says, hands gripping the steering wheel. “Are you going to see him play tomorrow?”

I shrug. “I hope so. I told Brian I needed to leave early.”

He follows me into the house, tensing at the shout of laughter that comes from the deck. Ryan sits in one of the lounge chairs, so relaxed with Max and Ginny you’d think he’d known them forever.

“There she is!” shouts Max. “Are your ears burning, Elle? I had no idea you were such a wild little thing.”

I don’t even want to know what they were discussing. Ryan smiles, but it fades a little as James walks up behind me, standing closer than he should—as if we’re together. They lock eyes before Ryan decides to ignore James entirely, pulling me in for a tight hug.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, kissing my cheek.

I’d forgotten how he looked to me when we first met—before I knew what a narcissistic ass he could be—when all I saw was his gorgeous face and his washboard abs, how amazingly blue his eyes looked against his tan, his dark hair, and his perpetual five o’clock shadow. I’ve questioned the fact that I stayed with him as long as I did, but I can definitely understand it right now.