Up to You

by Daisy Prescott

  “Meeting Landon.” No point in telling him anything different. He’ll find out soon enough who’s the other half of this school night rendezvous.

  The hand holding his beer freezes inches from his mouth. “You and Landon are dating?”

  “Never said it was a date.” I catch the bartender’s eye and order a pint of Fat Tire.

  “Didn’t you two have a thing in high school?” Conner must be bored because he won’t let it go.

  “Ancient history. Landon and I are a shining example of a healthy relationship between exes. It’s all about boundaries.” Which are maintained by never hanging out together.

  “You went out with Landon Roberts, too?” Placing my pint on a napkin in front of me, the bartender gives me a sympathetic smile.

  We need a secret sign or pin for the Sisterhood of the Unfortunate.

  “My deepest sympathies,” I tell her with a soft smile.

  “First beer’s on me. Want me to start a tab for you?”

  “Nah. I’m not going to hang out for long. Thanks for the drink. I’m Mae.”

  “Anika. Nice to meet you.”

  I lift the glass in her honor. “To better men. May we find them and date them.”

  She clinks her water bottle against my beer. “Amen.”

  Landon shows up on time, which is another unexpected twist to this strange adventure. He doesn’t seem like the punctual type—too narcissistic to care about little things like respecting other people’s time.

  He greets Conner with a hand-clasp and a back slap.

  If they grunted and thumped their chests, it wouldn’t surprise me. Conner isn’t nearly as thick as Landon, but they’re probably the same height.

  Taking the stool next to mine, Landon gives me an awkward half-hug. Like we’re friends, buddies, pals.

  I don’t hug him back.

  The contact lasts longer than a few seconds and I begin to worry he’s incapable of picking up on body language and subtle clues.

  Finally releasing me, he focuses on the bartender. “Hey, Anita. How’s it going?”

  My eyebrows lift as I wait for her to correct him. She doesn’t, but her lips flatten together in a thin line of annoyance.

  “IPA?” she asks, ignoring his question.

  He nods, sweeping a hand through his short, blond hair like he’s starring in a beer commercial.

  Once she pours his beer and places it on the bar, Anika strolls down to the far end by Conner, putting as much distance between herself and Landon as possible.

  He’s oblivious because I swear he’s trying to look down my cleavage.

  “Eyes a little higher, Roberts.”

  He meets my stare and doesn’t appear the least bit sheepish. “Haven’t seen you at any rugby matches. You boycotting the club or something because Lee ditched the team mid-season to take his girlfriend on vacation?”

  I notice he doesn’t use Sage’s name, yet from his bitter tone, he blames her for Lee not playing a few matches this summer.

  “Scheduling conflicts. Trust me, I’ve been devastated to miss the opportunity to watch men thrash on each other over a ball,” I say drily.

  Landon misses, or ignores, my sarcasm, and launches into a monologue about the club’s recent wins.

  There are dozens of things I’d rather be doing right now than listen to Landon retell every excruciating detail of his last three rugby matches. Despite taking tiny sips of my beer every time he says scrum, only a third of it is left. I’m sure somewhere, someone uses scrum as slang for scrotum. If not, it’s a lost opportunity.

  These are my top five preferred activities over hearing a rugby play-by-play:

  Getting a cavity filled without Novocain.

  Using an epilator to remove my pubic hair.

  Tweezing Easley’s back.

  Shopping with my mother.

  Eating sea urchin.

  Out of all of these, I’d put shopping with my mother last.

  “Sorry. That was probably way more than you wanted to hear,” Landon apologizes. “Thanks for meeting me tonight.”

  “Sure. It’s on my way home.” Ah, home. I wave away his thank you.

  I stretch, prepared to fake a yawn so I can claim exhaustion and put an end to the night.

  His eyes widen slightly. “I forgot you lived in town. Must be nice.”

  “My uncle owns the building. There’s no way I could afford to live by myself waiting tables and volunteering.” We’re not all trust fund kids around here even if we come from supposedly wealthy families.

  “Again, must be nice,” he says, flatly, and then sips his beer.

  “Cut it out. We grew up together. You know my family, I know yours. Isn’t that why we’re here tonight? Because our families are friends and both conspiring against us?”

  “What? I was just saying it’s nice that you have a place in town.” His tone switches from over-the-top flirty to his typical teasing. “Makes it easy for quick hookups.”

  I don’t mean to snort, but I do. “You’re a beast. Is sex all you ever think about, Landon?”

  “Pfft. No.” He sits up straighter.

  “Tell me two other subjects that float through your head on a regular basis.”

  Stalling, he drinks more of his beer. “Rugby and money. I’ll throw in snowboarding as a bonus.”

  At least we have one thing in common besides our shared childhood. There’s not a lot to say about snowboarding when there’s no snow on the ground. Ignoring his smug smirk, I reply with snark, “Congratulations for being well-rounded and deep.”

  “You’re welcome. I am capable of having a conversation, Mae. Contrary to what most people believe, I’m not a complete asshole. Even if my brother would say otherwise.”

  Finally, a topic I’m interested in. “How is Aiden?”

  “Living on my couch like a freeloader.” He scoffs. “Washed up at thirty. Imagine that.”

  “What?” I’m sure I’ve misheard him.

  Aiden moved away after he graduated and rarely comes home except for the holidays. Or so I’ve heard. Not like I’ve been stalking him and his life for years via random online posts, local gossip, and chance sightings. As far as I can tell he doesn’t have his own accounts on social media, which makes tracking him more difficult and frustrating.

  I’m not harboring a secret love for the older Roberts brother. It’s more fascination than obsession. Four years older than me, he’s always seemed more adult and worldly. Couch surfing doesn’t fit with the image of him I’ve created in my head over the years.

  “He’s back? Since when?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice normal.

  “For now. Called me a couple of weeks ago from Maine asking if he could stay with me.” He shrugs.

  “Maine?” Clearly, my detective skills suck. “Doesn’t he live in San Francisco?”

  My brain to mouth filter sucks, too.

  Landon squints at me like he’s trying to sniff out the truth. “He did. Before he cracked and had his mid-life crisis early.”

  “What does that mean? Like a mental breakdown?” I fail to keep the interest from my voice.

  “Something like that. Had to take some time away from the world to find himself. All I know is now he’s working as a river guide and sleeping in our living room. Does that sound like the behavior of a genius tech CEO? The golden boy isn’t looking too shiny these days.” Bitterness coats every word he speaks.

  Growing up, Landon lived in his brother’s shadow. In a way, we all did. Big personalities run in the Roberts family, but Aiden was special. Valedictorian in high school, top of his class at Colorado University, angel-funded startup at twenty-three, and beyond the resume, handsome, smart, funny, and kind. So handsome and fit. Maybe because he’s older, but he always seemed more grown up, more together than any guys in my class or Landon’s. Aiden Roberts was the complete package, worthy of every teenage girl fantasy had about him.

  Disappointment and sadness curl up together on my chest. Like seeing a favorite celebr
ity being an asshole in person or transforming from heartthrob to hot mess, my old crush dissipates and fades with this new reality.

  “Nice of you to take him in when he’s having a hard time.”

  “He’s my brother. I’m not going to let him be homeless.” Landon sounds resigned.

  Wow, I had no idea Aiden had fallen so far. I want to ask if he has a drug problem. Or a gambling addiction. Or spent all his money on high priced escorts from former Soviet countries. I cross off that possibility immediately. Why would a good-looking, successful guy like Aiden have to pay for sex? Unless he’s into really weird, kinky stuff. I debate which would be worse: escorts for kinky sex or spending all of his money on obscure rap albums. Even I’ve played around with fluffy handcuffs and being tied up. After the Fifty Shades phenomenon, who hasn’t? Besides my mother because I can’t live in a world with that knowledge.

  “Is he going to stick around for a while?” I actually feel sympathy for Landon. What’s happening to me?

  “Who can say? Rafting season’s going to end soon. Easley’s starting to get cranky about the apartment being too crowded. I’m giving Aiden through the beginning of October to figure out his shit.” Landon finishes his beer. “Enough about my sad sack of a brother. How do I convince you being my wedding date is the best decision you can make?”

  “In my life? This week? This year? What time parameters are you putting on this ranking?” I don’t know how many times and ways I can let him know I think this is a terrible idea.

  “You are really funny. I like that about you. Come on. Going together will make our mothers happy. Don’t you want to bring a little joy into your mom’s life? If the mom guilt doesn’t work on you, think about the FOMO you’re going to have. Everyone we know will be going. Think of all the free food and top-shelf liquor. You know this is going to have an open bar.”

  In spite of thinking he’s generally an ass, I smile at his genuine compliment. I’m beginning to think maybe he isn’t the worst. After all, he did take in his sex addicted, broke brother, and he wants to make his mom happy.

  I begin to seriously consider his offer. “Getting my mother off of my back about finding a husband would be a gift,” I say, softly and mostly to myself. “I’m not sure how many more sighs and frowns of disappointment I can handle in one day. If she didn’t already have Botox, I’d buy her a round of injections for her birthday. I’m sure she blames me for all of her wrinkles and gray hairs.”

  Tipping his head back, he laughs loud enough Conner and Anika shift to stare at us. “You’re hysterical. You know why funny women are the best?”

  Before I can answer, he says, “They’re usually great in bed.”

  And he ruins it again.

  “Jeez, Landon. It always comes back to sex with you.”

  “Then give in and have sex with me,” he whispers, leaning closer. “If we fuck, we’ll relieve some of this built-up sexual tension. We can go to your apartment right now. Then you won’t maul me at the wedding.”

  His breath smells of beer and future regret.

  I press my hand against his shoulder to not so gently remove him from my personal space. “Not happening. You’re really terrible at flirting, you know.”

  Honestly, he’s so awful, I’m not sure if he’s even trying to flirt.

  “Says who? I do all right with women. Right, Anita?”

  Anika shakes her head. “It’s Anika, and she’s right.”

  “Then why did you go out with me?” Deep lines crease his forehead.

  She twists her mouth before speaking. “I wouldn’t say we went out. You were a hot rugby player. I was horny. Perfect combination. There wasn’t a whole lot of talking that night, so I didn’t realize my mistake until later.”

  Landon’s face falls. “Mistake?”

  Anika’s eyes meet mine and she grimaces. “That might sound too harsh, but we’ve slept together and you just called me by the wrong name.”

  How Sage put up with him for more than a date or two blows my mind. The only answer that makes sense is he’s getting worse with age, instead of better. Instead of being a fine wine or cheese, he’s a stale, three-day-old loaf of bread or a questionable almond that leaves a bitter aftertaste.

  There must be some tiny seed of decency buried deep inside of him, under all the composted bullshit and ego.

  He swallows the last of the beer and then frowns.

  Damn it, now I’m feeling sorry for him. Don’t, I tell myself. Don’t open your mouth. Keep your feelings to yourself. Landon Roberts isn’t your responsibility. You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change themselves. You do not need a pet project.

  Do I listen to myself? Nope.

  “I’ll be your date for this over the top display of wealth and pretension on one condition.” I touch the back of his hand.

  “Does it involve having sex?” Flashing his teeth, he gives me a wolfish grin.

  “Not a snowflake’s chance on a hot summer day. Sex is off the table.” I hold my hand in front of his face. “Don’t say whatever you’re thinking.”

  His deep exhale of breath brushes over my palm. “Fine.”

  “Between now and the rehearsal dinner, you need to prove you can be a decent human. I’d say gentleman, but I don’t want to set the bar too high and have you fail. This isn’t punishment for prior douchebaggery. I’m doing you a favor. Hell, I’m taking one for all of womankind. You think you can rein in your dickhead tendencies?” Goading him with an insult, I smile at him, hoping he’ll tell me to fuck off and find another date.

  “You should listen to her,” Conner pipes up from his corner. “Man, your reputation is shit. You’re lucky there’s a constant flow of new arrivals in this town or you’d probably never get laid again.”

  Bouncer-man’s throwing down some harsh truths. Grinning, I give him a thumbs-up.

  “Deal?” I hold out my hand to shake on it.

  “What do I have to do?” He slides his index finger back and forth over my palm while staring into my eyes.

  “To start, stop doing shit like that. You don’t always have to be making a move. Relax and be yourself, the real Landon.” Whoever that is.

  “And what’s in it for me?” He purses his lips into a pout.

  “Happiness? Love? A life filled with quality over quantity?”

  “Whoa. Slow down, Mae. I never said anything about falling in love with you. It’s one date. And some casual sex.”

  I swear I’m going to slap him, and I don’t believe in violence. This is pointless. Beyond frustrated I’ve wasted time on a lost cause when I could’ve been sleeping, I stand up and reach for my wallet to tip Anika. “You’re on your own, Roberts.”

  His laughter stops my movement. “I was kidding. I can play nice. Promise.”

  Exasperated, I stare up at the ceiling, knowing I’m going to regret helping him. Somehow this will backfire in my face.

  Conner speaks softly to Anika, but not quiet enough that I can’t overhear him bet her a twenty Landon crashes and burns.

  While I’m counting tin ceiling tiles, a warm hand wraps around my elbow. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman. Swear on the championship cup. You’ll be so impressed, I’m going to blow your panties off.”

  Squeezing and releasing my balled-up fists, I slowly exhale a breath and focus on his face. Devilish comes to mind when I see his expression, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Ground rules. No mention of sex. Or panties. Or nudity. No flirting with, or trying to pick up, other women in front of my family and your parents at the rehearsal dinner or at the wedding.”

  “You’ll have my full attention.” He picks up my hand and cradles it in his before placing a soft breath of a kiss on my knuckles.

  “Dial it back to a seven, Romeo.”

  “We should hang out again before the wedding. Practice my human decency and all that. I’ll call you.”

  “You’re probably right, but keep in mind we’re not dating.”

  A single eyebrow lifts in c
hallenge. “I have a feeling I’ll be able to change your mind.”

  Laughing, I put on my jacket and back away from him. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  There’s no way I’m going to fall for Landon. Not even if he somehow turns from a wart-covered frog into a real prince.

  Like a viral cat video on social media, I replay this disaster of an evening over and over in my head as I walk home. The dark shadows of the mountains loom ominously in front of me. I think I’ve just made a deal with the arrogant, womanizing, evil, blond devil with the mischievous glint in his eyes.

  Chapter 5

  Mae

  “You only have yourself to blame.” Sage doesn’t hold back. “Why didn’t you call one of us to talk sense into you? The whole thing could’ve been avoided with an emergency girl gang FaceTime.”

  I press the pads of my fingers against my temples. “My curiosity got the better of me. I thought I saw a glimpse of humanity somewhere in the depths of his soul. Maybe he’s deeply insecure and needs to build up a sense of self-worth.”

  Sage practically does a spit take on her wine. “Or a narcissist with an overinflated ego.”

  “He does remind me of Narcissus. Can’t you see Landon staring at himself in a reflective pool?” Zoe asks.

  “Or a mirror,” Sage adds with an eye roll.

  “Or a window if the glass is reflective enough.” Mara almost gets the words out before she cracks herself up.

  We’re sitting on the deck of Sage’s condo, enjoying a warm Labor Day evening before the cold weather returns. The calendar barely says September, but the nights are becoming chilly. A crackling fire in their outdoor fireplace warms the small space, adding to the feeling fall is right around the corner.

  “His ability to appear human is how he lures you in. He’s like one of those fish with the dangly bit hanging off of his head that tricks innocent, littler fishes, drawing them closer until it can open its jaws of death and eat them.” Mara’s eyes are wide like she’s telling a ghost story.

  “You’ve been watching Blue Planet again, haven’t you?” I ask her. As a veterinarian, the woman is obsessed with all things animal. Except horses, but that’s a long story.