“Hey!” I whirled around to catch him, but I needn’t have bothered. He wasn’t going anywhere. Instead, he stepped right before me, blocking my path away from the door. The sudden change in his expression made me still. It was nothing overt, but there was something… a sharpness in his eyes, a pinch to his mouth, that made my heart stutter and quickened my breath. “Secondly,” he said, “I’m not your brother.”
Swallowing to moisten my suddenly dry throat, I nodded. "I know that."
He stepped closer and his hands slid over my hips. "Do you?"
Time slowed down and my heart sped up. My mouth opened and closed as I failed to come up with a reply.
“Because what I’m feeling around you lately is anything but brotherly.” His eyes dropped to my mouth, lingering for a long moment, before he looked back up again. “And it’s frustrating as hell that you keep pretending things aren’t changing.”
I blinked, stunned by his admission. I’d seen things here and there to indicate he saw me differently than before, but to hear him admit it out loud was mind-blowing. I didn’t know if I wanted to do a happy dance or run away. I shivered, instead. His hands still cupped my hips, and his thumbs kept brushing the sides of my inner hip-bones, causing my nerve endings to spark and snap like firecrackers.
My shuddery exhale made Ian’s eyes sharpen. Their green hue darkened and he stared at without falter, analyzing my reaction.
I felt like a deer in headlights and imagine I looked like one, too. I gulped, trying to command the individual muscles in my face to move, but they felt paralyzed. And he still wasn’t moving.
Do something, dammit!
Ian’s eyes traveled down my face again and stopped on my mouth. His lips pressed together, and it was clear he was debating whether or not to close the gap between us.
He was so close. All I would have to do was lift my head off the door and our mouths would touch. The only thing stopping me from doing just that was the small, niggling voice in my head reminding me of his words from the day before. “What about what you said at the panel?”
“What did I say?” he murmured, keepings his eyes on my lips.
“About mixing friendship and relationships?”
“Hmm.” He nodded and moved in a little closer. “What about what you said?”
“What did I say?”
“About taking risks?”
I had said that. I’d also said the girl had to decide if it was worth it. “Is this one worth it?”
His gaze darted back to my eyes. “You tell me.”
“I really don’t know.”
Ian closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. A moment later, he dropped his head on my shoulder. “Me, either,” he said. “This is so confusing.”
Tell me about it.
The two-tone chime of the doorbell sounded throughout the apartment.
“That’ll be my date.”
The weight of his sigh settled all the way to my toes. “Yeah. You should get that.”
Was he now telling me to go on this date? It would kind of make sense. We could probably both use some distance to think.
Lifting his head, Ian brought his interlaced hands behind his neck and walked a circle. I smoothed my hands down my skirt, trying to scrub away the heat left behind by his hands.
Clearing my throat, I took a breath and pulled the door open.
Although I was distracted and shaken, I couldn’t help being surprised by my first glance at Garrett. He was really good looking, and dressed to the nines in a suit jacket over a black shirt and pants. Pretty and shiny, crossed my mind. But what took me back most of all was the open and friendly smile on his face. There was none of the haughtiness and self-importance I was used to seeing in the eyes of Parker and his brood.
I couldn’t say the same for myself. I felt awkward as all get out, even more so when I caught Ian studying me.
Garrett held out his hand. “Ivy, right?”
“Yes, nice to meet you.” I shook his hand. Garrett turned his attention to Ian with the same smile.
“Garrett,” he said in introduction, holding out his hand.
Ian didn’t even look at his hand. “Ian.”
Garrett dropped his hand with a shrug and looked between us with his brows lifted. “Are you coming with us?”
I blinked. Weird question. Why would he assume that? Was it his usual practice to bring along a third-party on a date?
My eyes went to Ian, and I saw a flicker of surprise. Then the surprise melted away and a tight, scheming smile pulled at his mouth. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his fat head. He opened his mouth… “You know what, I was--”
“Just leaving,” I said. “He was just leaving.”
Ian’s mouth snapped shut and he smirked. “She’s right. I’ve got some things to think about, anyway.” He shot me a loaded look. “But I’ll see you at O’Sheas.” There was a threat in his voice; nothing overt, but I didn’t miss it.
“Cool,” Garrett said.
Ian’s mouth twisted on the side as he stared at me. The frustration in his eyes was overshadowed by something a little wild and unstable. I heard his private message loud and clear: to be continued. I couldn’t look away and had no clue how to respond.
Looking satisfied his message had been received, Ian walked around Garrett and slapped him on the shoulder. “Treat her well or I’ll bury you,” he said with a dark laugh as he slipped by.
Garrett’s amused smile surprised me. “I’ll treat her like a queen,” he called as he turned his head to watch Ian go. He craned his neck back to watch Ian as his booted feet pounded the concrete stairs to the second-floor landing.
My brows pulled together in suspicion when I saw the smile playing around his mouth and the flicker of his eyebrows. It was a look I’d seen many times before, but never on the face of one of my dates.
Remembering himself, Garrett turned back to me with a friendly smile. “Fun guy. Are you ready to go?”
I bit my lip on a laugh and nodded.
Silly, sweet, naïve Chelsea.
***
Two hours later, I approached the door of O’Shea’s as a laughing group of girls stumbled out. When they were gone, I walked in and looked around. O’Shea’s was the largest bar in town. The main room was well lit, housing the primary bar and a sitting area just inside the door. Pool tables sat around the perimeter of the room. A hall in the back corner led to a darker room that frequently hosted a band and a floor for the dancing-inclined crowd.
I scanned the room for my friends, pinpointing them at a table in the middle of the room only after I heard my name called over the music. Amery waved her arms to get my attention. I waved back and made my way over. Next to Amery sat Casey, and next to him, a slight blonde with a pale complexion and a wide-eyed expression. Casey’s date, I guessed. Amery’s date, Chris, sat on the other side of her, where he seemed to be engaging in a fairly heated debate with Parker beside him. Chelsea sat beside Parker, and I saw her watching me with worried eyes and a crestfallen expression on her face, no doubt due to the absence of Garrett. I looked away from her and turned my focus to Ian.
He sat facing away from the door with his elbows propped up on the table and his chin resting in his hands. His thumb stroked his chin while he watched me near. His eyes were guarded, cautious, and hard to look away from.
“Where’s Garrett?” Chelsea asked without preamble when I arrived. At the same time, Amery said, “Where’s your date?”
I glanced behind me, pretending to search for him and then shrugged. “Guess he took my advice and got lost.”
Seeing the distress in Chelsea’s eyes made me feel a little guilty for the sin I was about to commit, but it was for the greater good of helping out a new friend.
There were no empty chairs at the table, or anywhere nearby. I glanced down at Ian, who still watched me. Hearing Garrett’s voice in my head – Go for it! – I decided to forego finding one. Instead, I pulled Ian’s arms off the table and sat down on his la
p. Looking over my shoulder at him, I winked. “Hey.”
His brow lifted as he studied me. “Hey.”
“So, what happened?” Amery asked.
I pulled my eyes away from Ian and waved my hand. “Give a girl a minute,” I said. “Let me order a drink and relax for a second, and then I’ll share all the gruesome details.”
Across the table, Chelsea’s frown deepened.
A curious silence reigned over the table as I flagged down a waitress. I had everyone’s undivided attention – I better make it good.
I looked at Casey’s date and smiled. “Hi, I’m Ivy.”
“Carrie,” his date said with a shy smile. She was cute, a little geeky, but looked like a sweet girl. Just what Casey needed.
“Did you guys have a good time tonight?” I asked.
Carrie nodded and ducked her head, shooting a bashful smile at Casey from under her hair. “It was fun.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “Though I had no doubts. He’s a great guy.”
“Okay, Ivy, thanks,” Casey said with a small smile.
I giggled at his obvious embarrassment. I looked up as C.J. Reynolds, a girl Ian and I had attended Ironwood High with, approached the table. “Hey, C.J.!”
“Hey, doll,” C.J. said. She was a stocky girl with spiky black hair and a silver hoop through her bottom lip. We ran in different circles in high school, but we often greeted each other like old friends. Funny how things changed once you were out of high school. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Where have you been?”
“Working and studying. Same old.” I looked around. “And speaking of busy, looks like you’re getting slammed in here tonight.”
“It’s about to get worse,” C.J. said. “A couple of the Greek houses on campus are doing a pub crawl, tonight.”
“On Valentine’s Day?”
“Some kind of idiotic house tradition.” She shrugged. “What can I get you?”
I ordered a drink and some of the others did the same.
“So…” Amery prompted as soon as C.J. was gone. She was practically bouncing in her seat.
“Okay, okay.” I relented and leaned back against Ian’s chest. “Let me preface this by saying that, despite my misgivings, I went on this date totally willing to make the best of it. That being said, based on tonight’s experience, I am now equipped with enough knowledge to do an entire show on what not to do on a blind date.”
“Ouch.” Casey’s face twisted. “Was it that bad?”
I lowered my head and looked at him under my brows. “Honey, the Ancient Greeks couldn’t have written a more perfect tragedy.”
“Didn’t Greek tragedies usually end with someone dead?” Amery asked.
“And this date almost did, too.” I gave her a sweet smile. “Now, sticking with the grand tradition of Greek theater, this night will be broken down into acts.” I cleared my throat and held out my hands for dramatic effect. “Act one: The date begins. Tall, dark and handsome arrives at my door, and I’m thinking, wow! Why does this guy need to be set up on a blind date? Introductions are exchanged, hands are shaken, and then we walk to his pretty little sports car. I’m thinking maybe this date will be an exception to the typical blind-date hell. Then, no sooner do we pull out of the complex than his cell phone rings. He spends the entire ride talking about how he’s just doing a favor for Chelsea, taking her friend out, as if I’m some charity case.”
Chelsea’s head shook. “No, Ivy, I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.”
“Chelsea, sweetheart, you weren’t there. You’re going to have to take my word for it.” I cleared my throat. “So, act two. We arrive at Pastiche.”
“Ooh. Fancy-schmancy,” Casey said.
I smirked. “Yes, very fancy, and elegant, and totally pretentious. It’s the kind of place where you have a personal attendant who does everything from grinding your pepper to placing your napkin in your lap. A little too much service for me.” I made a face.
“We get seated and menus are handed over. We begin looking them over when a man arrives carrying a pitcher of water. He accidentally overfills my glass, for which he apologizes profusely, almost as if he’s terrified I’m going to get him fired. And I’m thinking, what kind of place am I at? It takes a minute or two to reassure him that it’s okay. As soon as he’s gone, Garrett apologizes, saying that the servers aren’t usually so clumsy. And then, he says, ‘But I guess that’s what you have to expect when you hire Spics to keep your labor costs down.’”
“He didn’t!” Amery cried in shock, but it was clear she was eating every word up.
I nodded. “He most certainly did. So I decide to inform him that I’m a quarter Mexican. Instead of being apologetic, he says, ‘Yeah, but you’re not one of these border-jumpers who is trying to live off the U.S. government’s dime.’ Like that was supposed to make me feel better or something. So I ask how the waiter is living off the government’s dime if he’s working, and he just makes a tight-lipped face and changed the topic to the menu.
“Conversation is now stilted. He asks if anything appeals, and I tell him I’m debating between the lemon-pepper chicken and the blackened swordfish. He strongly advises I try the veal cutlets, and I decline, but he keeps talking about them. Finally, I have to tell him that I don’t eat veal because I don’t approve of the inhumane treatment of the calves. And he says, ‘Oh, are you one of those bleeding-heart animal activists?’ I tell him that I’m not an activist, just that I have problems with keeping a calf chained in place in a two-foot wide box, where it can’t move, just so some person can enjoy a tender cut of meat. He then makes a comment about how we’re the ones on top of the food chain, and when the waiter comes around, he keeps his eyes on mine as he orders the veal, as if he’s proving a point or something.”
“That’s kind of juvenile,” Amery said in support, then leaned in even closer. “Keep going.”
“Act three: The next ten minutes are filled with silence, until he says that maybe we got off on the wrong foot, could we try again? I gave it some thought and then decided to give him a second chance. After all, maybe things aren’t coming out the way he means them to. Maybe he can redeem himself. So, he begins telling me a little about himself… and never really stops. All through the salad, the sorbet, and the meal, he talks about his past, his father, his money, his travels, his investment portfolio, his religion, and his political preferences.”
I brought a hand to my mouth and mimed a yawn.
“Act four: As our meal ends, he finally decides to ask me questions about me. I tell him a little about my family, my major, the radio station. Things rapidly go downhill from there, and it all ends with me being on the receiving end of a lecture about how I am personally responsible for the degeneration of our society, how I should be ashamed of myself for corrupting our youth, and how God is going to punish me for encouraging others have pre-marital sex. I try telling him that I’m not encouraging anything, just educating, but he doesn’t listen to a word I’m saying.
“For our final act: It’s completely silent and we’re both kind of glaring at each other as we wait for the bill. Finally, it arrives and I insist I’ll pay my half, but he tells me to keep my money because I’m going to need it for cab fare.”
Chelsea looked almost close to tears. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’d love to, but…” I shook my head.
Ian jerked to the side so he could see my face. “He left you?”
I nodded. “Best part of the evening, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh my god!” Amery squawked.
“Hmm, and here’s the kicker: I only had a couple bucks in cash. I was going to put my dinner on my credit card, and cabs don’t take cards, so I had to walk here.” Looking at Ian’s irate face made me realize I’d taken things too far with that one.
Ian’s body seemed to be shaking with rage. “Why didn’t you call someone?”
“I tried! None of you were answering your phones, and it’s no wonde
r. It’s so loud in this place that you probably couldn’t hear them.” I brought my fingers to my ears and winced.
“Oh, my God.” Chelsea shook her head, eyes swimming in confusion. “I can’t believe it. That just doesn’t sound like Garrett.”
“Maybe you’ve just never seen him for what he truly is,” Casey suggested, expression grim.
Chelsea looked lost. “Maybe. I… God, Ivy, I’m sorry. We’re really sorry, aren’t we?”
“Please don’t speak for me,” Parker said, giving her a cool look.
Chelsea returned his look with wide eyes. “You can’t actually be saying you condone the way Garrett behaved tonight?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. He acted wrongly, especially at the end there,” he turned his gaze to me, “but you really didn’t help the situation.”
I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“It just seems to me that things were going fine until you started talking about your radio program.” His nostrils flared.
I tilted my head. “What are you saying? That I should have lied to him?”
“Of course not, but hasn’t it hit you yet that your job may be the problem? Not just with Garrett, but in all of your romantic relationships?”
I arched one brow, waiting for him to continue.
“Ivy, you can’t be completely oblivious to the way people think of you.”
I shook my head slowly.
A rumble of frustration sounded in Parker’s throat. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? You think what you do is so brave and daring, but you attract the wrong men because people assume you’re a whore. And, no offense, but if you keep it up, you’re never going to get a decent man, because a decent man doesn’t want a whore on his arm, he wants a lady.”
Five seconds passed where no one said a word. They were all probably wondering what I was: Did he just call me a whore?
They probably all came to the same conclusion I did, too: Close enough.
The table erupted in chaos.
“That’s it!” Ian said.
“I am offended, you asshole!”
“Parker!” Chelsea cried.
Ian urged me off his lap and jumped his feet. “I’m going to kick your face in,” he said, reaching across the table. He knocked the table forward. Amery grabbed Carrie, and they scuttled back to a safe distance.
The Truths about Dating and Mating Page 18
