Meaning, he’s the complete opposite of me.
“You’re talking about Franz,” Ellie says with an exasperated sigh.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“The giant blond guy with the Adam’s apple,” she says. “His name is Franz.”
“And who the hell is Franz, exactly?” I ask.
“Gracie’s new guy,” she answers. “He’s from Germany.”
Ah. Gracie. Of course she would go out with a guy named Franz.
“I’ve been to Germany,” Carson says with a smile. “Went to Berlin when I was fourteen.”
“What did you think of it?” Ellie asks, her eyes wide. “I’ve always wanted to go.”
“It’s beautiful. I liked the city. Clean. Lots of cool buildings. Modern mixed with old. Most of the city was blown up in World War II,” Carson says.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Europe,” Ellie says to him, reaching out to touch his knee. “Have you been to any other country over there?”
“We went to France too,” Carson says, his gaze dropping to his knee, where Ellie is still touching him.
My gaze is there too. She’s not usually so forward. At least not with me. Seeing her touch this guy, a guy she doesn’t even really know, makes me want to get all caveman and grab her.
Tell this asshole that she’s mine.
Wait a minute. I need to calm the hell down. She’s not mine. She never really was. I can’t make a claim on her. I’m the asshole who pushed her away after we kissed. What she’s doing right now?
I deserve every bit of it.
“That is my ultimate dream, to go to Paris,” Ellie says, her expression dreamy. As if she’s imagining herself standing beneath the Eiffel Tower. “I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.”
Called it.
“It’s even nicer than Berlin,” Carson says, clearing his throat. He seems visibly uncomfortable, and I have no idea why.
Ellie gives his knee a squeeze before she drops her hand and glances around. “Oh, I think Diego and Eli want to talk to you, Jackson.”
I glance over my shoulder to see them both staring at me. They make come here gestures with their hands and I scowl before swinging back around to face Ellie and Carson.
I don’t want to leav
e these two alone. They’re too cozy. Something’s happening here, and I don’t want it to. I may have been the one who stupidly friend-zoned Ellie, but I don’t necessarily want to see her with some other guy either.
Meaning, I am one hundred percent a selfish asshole.
“How do you know Ellie?” Carson asks me out of nowhere.
“How do I know her?” I rest my hand against my chest, my gaze going to hers. She’s watching me, her expressive eyes telling me all sorts of things. Like how she much she doesn’t want me here. Chatting with this guy who she is clearly interested in. But is she really? Only a few weeks ago, she was hanging on my every word. “We lived in the same area. Went to rival high schools. Her best friend is dating my best friend.”
“Cool, cool.” Carson nods, his gaze going from Ellie to me. Can he feel the tension brewing between us? Because I sure as hell can.
I hear Eli call my name and I wince, determined to keep talking.
“I’m a musician. A songwriter,” I add, and Carson appears dutifully impressed. “Ellie is one of my biggest fans.”
“I am not,” she retorts.