Page 36 of No One But Us

Elle leaves and Allison stands there, staring me down as if she just caught us having sex out here. And I probably look guilty as hell because even if we were doing nothing wrong, my head is not in the right place where Elle is concerned. I’m guessing Allison knows it, too.

She laughs, but the sound is bitter. “So how is that, dating a teenager? It must be weird for you, after spending most of your year around actual adults.”

I exhale heavily. I knew this was coming. “Elle and I are not dating, as I’ve told you before.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. You became super distant the minute she arrived here, but I’m sure that was a coincidence.”

In the recesses of my brain, I wonder if this is true—if right from the start my attraction to Elle is what hammered home the fact that I was never going to want Allison that way.

“I wanted to end things last spring, remember? You convinced me to wait, and I gave it a shot, and it just wasn’t working for me.”

“You gave it a shot? What kind of shot did you give it? You took off from Connecticut the first day of our internship!”

I throw up my hands. “What did you want me to do? Stay at a job that was going to make me miserable so I could remain with a girl I’d already ended things with once?”

“Do you know how awkward it is for me there now, James? I work for your parents, and not only did you up and run, but now I’m the girl their son dumped.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for patience. “I’m sorry about that. But I told you I didn’t think working together there was a good idea. I told you the situation with my parents was a little tense and you ought to intern somewhere you’d want to work after graduation.”

“Exactly, James. And I wanted to work there, with you.”

I exhale heavily. I could not have been more clear about my intentions when Allison and I started dating. I wanted things to stay casual. But Allison doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with not getting her way, and she seemed to assume she’d get it with us too.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I know this isn’t how you wanted things to go. But I think we’ll both be better off in the long run.”

“Don’t think you’re going to spend the whole summer fucking some brain-dead model and come slinking back next fall.”

Anger spikes in my chest. “I’m not sleeping with her, and I have no idea where you got the idea she’s brain dead, but given she’s at the same Ivy you went to, I’d watch how far you go with that.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure that’s her appeal, right? Her big, luscious...brain.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” I tell her, rising. “You can take the bed; I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Her eyes widen. “Are you serious right now? I drove all the way down here and we’re not even sleeping together?”

I tell her I am completely serious and walk inside.

If I’m turning down my first chance to get laid in nearly two months, I’m either really over Allison...or I’m way too into someone else.

Chapter 23

ELLE

The next morning, I get up to make Ginny’s birthday cake. I’m still annoyed that she locked me out of the room for so long last night, but I stifle my irritation. I even start waffles since that’s her favorite breakfast.

The smell of baking draws my housemates into the kitchen—first Max, then James, and finally Ginny.

“Isn’t Allison great?” she squeals as I pour the batter onto the iron.

“Mmmm,” I reply—a noise that means nothing at all, but one I know she will take to mean agreement.

Allison emerges last, dressed like she’s heading to the ladies’ tea at the country club—white capris, a cashmere tank, a scarf around her neck. Meanwhile, James is now shirtless and still wearing Thursday’s shorts, which he may or may not have gone running in. I’m heartened by the fact that he sure doesn’t look like a guy who’s trying to get laid.

Allison fixes her icy smile on me and comes to the opposite side of the island. “I can take over,” she says, pulling the waffle iron away from me and reaching out her hand, fully expecting me to hand over the batter.

I’m kind of stunned. Who the fuck does she think she is, walking into my fucking kitchen and trying to take over my fucking waffles? I grab the waffle iron by its cord and yank it back to me.

“I think I’ve got it, thanks,” I say.