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“We cannot let the hostility continue to bubble.” “That is a death sentence,” Nance agrees. “I mean, that’s a bit dramatic,” Shane says, and they both ignore him.
“Why are you guys so cheerful? What kind of drugs do you take, and do they show up in drug tests?” A wave of laughter travels through the circle.
“And you laughed!” I cry in delight, gliding after him. “I’m telling everyone.” “Go ahead. No one will believe you.”
hoot. “Holy shit, you would actually pretend to like my meditation music to suck up to him! You’re a fraud. I will not endorse a fraud.” He lets out another bark of laughter. “Oh my God, two laughs in less than five minutes.”
“Did you really just call me bitch?” “Yes. I’m practicing my trash talk.” I stop. “Wait. I just realized I can’t use it during a game. I could never call another girl a bitch, even if I secretly think she is one. That’s so derogatory.” “But you can call me that?” “Yes, quite easily, actually. It’s alarming.”
“So, ah, wormholes.” He hesitates, looking around the group. “Are there worms in them?”
Dad calls over the railing of the stone deck. “Despite what the song says, it doesn’t look like a stick is coming their way, hey-hey.” “Don’t lie to the dogs, Wyatt,” Mom pipes up.
blush. “Sorry, I’m being nosy. I’m just amazed by how little stuff you have.” “Stuff is overrated.” “You’re so deep, Ryder. A regular old Plato.”
“You want to watch something?”
So I see we’re copying Garrett now.
Then he chuckles. “I love how you announce your move. ‘My hand is on your thigh,’” he mimics. “You know, most people would just make the move and then wait to see if it works.” “What can I say? I’m a rebel.”
“What’s your obsession with making people laugh?” “Not people. Only you. You’re scary otherwise.”
“Telling you how good I want to make you feel. Telling you how good you make me feel. That’s the kind of talking I’m decent at.”
“Something on your mind?” I say gruffly. Fucking hell. I initiated a conversation. Willingly. What is happening and how do I stop this? Why can’t I stop this?
“Like I told you last night, it made zero sense and I don’t care to discuss it.” “And like I told you, you have to watch it at least three times before it makes sense—” “What kind of time do you think I have?” Shane interrupts. “I barely have time to watch one movie once, let alone the same fucking movie three times.”
Well, she did most of the talking. But I wanted to listen. I asked questions. I initiated.
Jensen turns around. “What? What else do you want? Do you want me to do a little dance for you?” “I, personally, would love that,” Tristan Yoo says.
My vision is assaulted by three unacceptable things. Nance. Sheldon. And an obstacle course.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” Nance starts, pure joy shining on her face. I swear she gets off on this shit. She probably sits at home and fantasizes about all the team-building exercises she can torture college students with.
“Wait, what?” Patrick blurts out. “You’re not brother and sister?” Sheldon frowns at him. “We’ve been happily married for twenty-two years.” Patrick remains entirely unconvinced. “Come on. You’re just playing around now. You’re brother and sister,” he insists. He turns to the group for backup. “Am I the only one who thought that?”
“Before we get started, are there any questions?” “Are you really not brother and sister?” Nazem asks. “Any other questions?”
don’t know. We hadn’t spoken since I came over that night, so I thought…” “So you thought we would discuss it right now. In the library. In a dark enclosed space. With our teammates about twenty feet away.” “I mean, I didn’t say I thought it through.”
“Horizons. Trust me, it’s the best thing to listen to when you’re shivering your ass off in that tub.” “I don’t trust you and I believe that to be a lie.” “I’ve narrowed it down to two tracks. I’ll even be nice and let you choose. What’ll it be? The African bushveld or the reeds of North Carolina?” “I fucking hate North Carolina.” “Africa, it is.”
“Man, you really hate talking.” “Thank you for noticing.” “Sweetie. That wasn’t a compliment. You know who else doesn’t talk? Serial killers.” “I disagree… Seems like a lot of those crazy fuckers love to hear themselves talk.”
“God, this is cold,” she gripes. “One might think it’s an ice bath.” “Listen, as much as I’m digging the sarcasm. Can it.” “I can’t win with you. If I don’t say anything, I’m a serial killer. If I do say something, you tell me to can it.” “By the way, it’s your turn. I want to hear the North Carolina story.”
“I think the real issue is—you don’t smile enough.” “It makes my face hurt.” “But you’re hot when you smile. And it makes you look more approachable.” I blanch. “Baby, I don’t want people approaching me. That sounds awful.”
“Well, obviously. I thought it was going to be something cooler.” “What’s cooler than butterflies?” “Are you kidding me right now?” He diligently studies me. “I can’t figure out if you’re being serious.” “Dead serious. This is my favorite place in the whole city.”
“You can’t discuss sex in the butterfly gardens.” “Why not?” “This is a very PG place.” “Yeah. Well. I just turned it X-rated. Got a problem with that?”
All around us, butterflies hover. Chase one another through the flowers. A few of them dance past Ryder’s head. It’s the most Disney moment possible, yet the gleam in his eyes is downright pornographic.
“I don’t want to hear shit. You’re the one who started talking.”
“I don’t lie,” I say simply. “Hell, my honesty gets me in trouble with chicks almost all of the time.” “I’m an ass for thinking it.” “I’m always going to be honest with you. I don’t know how to be anything else.”
“Abandoning us in the middle of the woods to a serial killer is team-building?” Tristan Yoo blurts out. “First of all, there is no ‘us.’ It’s them. So calm down, Yoo.” Coach nods. “But you raise a good point.”
She’s fucking me, bro
“Are there any active serial killers out here?” he asks. “Wasn’t there, like, a highway killer a while back on the West Coast? Do you think there’s an East Coast one?”
Case says, “Should we go try to hunt a cheetah or something?” I chuckle. “Yes, all those cheetahs out here in the New England forest.”
“We can survive until morning. I think I’ve got a granola bar, though. We can have it with our bag of chips.” “Awesome,” he says glumly.
The dinner of champions
“I guess a couple decades ago the team had a pet pig, and one of the guys entered him in an event at a county fair in New Hampshire. He thought the pig would just get a ribbon for being the cutest or whatever. Plot twist: the winning entrant got turned into bacon.”
Not Pablo Pigscobar!!!
If she were the one, he wouldn’t think it. He would know it. And if she were the one, he wouldn’t have messed around with somebody else.
Maybe it’s not true. Maybe I can be a boyfriend. I mean, why not? Well, other than the fact that Gigi has never once expressed interest in me being her boyfriend.
My mouth drops open. “Oh my God. You’re taking me to the opera?”
Ryder shrugs. “You said it’s the only date you’re interested in going on.” “I was lying.” “Yeah, I know.” His eyes gleam. “And now you’re being punished for it.”
“How the hell did you swing a box?” I whisper. “Baby. We’re in a tiny theater in Maine. These seats cost like fifty bucks and almost every box was available.” He called me baby.
“What kind of pornography have you lured me into?” I whisper to Ryder. “Like you’re not into it.” His voice is a soft, teasing whisper.
“Gisele,” he says. “Mmmm?” “Are we dating now?” A smile tickles my lips. I rise slightly on my elbow and gaze down at him. He’s biting his lip and it’s adorable. “Yeah. I think we are.”
The world is scary sometimes
I can’t keep hiding anymore. It’s been months now. Which floors me, because it feels like I’ve known him forever.
But the company’s growing on me too. Every prickly, grumpy part of him.
Now, the idea of never seeing her smile at me again feels like someone ripping my heart out of my chest.
I don’t know why I’m even bothered by this. Whatever. We were dating and I guess now we’re done. For a stupid fucking reason, mind you. But fine. It’s over. Okay…that’s not fine. I don’t want it to be over. God fucking damn it.
“You think she’s right to be mad at me?” “Do you even know why she’s mad?” Darby counters, echoing Gigi’s sentiments from the phone call. I swear, do all women belong to some sort of telepathic network where they just know why they’re angry?
“Oh, Ryder. You silly, stupid man.”
All of them are silly and stupid
