Ryan laughed. “Always the smart-ass. It’ll be fun regardless.”
“It definitely will. Plus, I’m always up for eating,” Elliot said, patting his stomach. “Which reminds me, I’m gonna get some of that fresh-squeezed lemonade. Anyone want one?”
“No thanks,” my brother and I said in unison, and Elliot walked a few feet away to the kiosk selling them.
“So, hey,” Ryan said. “You don’t still have a thing for Dawson, do you?”
“What?” My face flashed hot. “Absolutely not. How did you know…?”
“I’m your brother, remember?” he scoffed. “You’d get all flustered around him in high school, and tonight you could barely look at him.”
“I think that was mutual,” I pointed out, which was likely the wrong thing to say. He had no clue about our history. At least I didn’t think so.
“Exactly,” he replied, confirming my suspicions. “Which is why I wanted to check with you. I’m pretty sure he knew you had a crush on him, and if he thinks you still—”
“Okay, stop.” I held up my hands, feeling a prick of irritation. “We’re both grown adults. You don’t have to babysit us. And besides, he’s so not my type.”
“Ooooh, burn,” Ryan said. “Dawson’s ego might not be able to handle that.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”
“Yeah, okay, kiddo.”
I made a frustrated sound. “Hey, I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Sorry.” He threw his arm around me. “Old habits die hard.”
After we said our goodbyes, I walked over to wait for Elliot.
“You want some?” he asked once he took a sip.
“Sure.” I practically drank half of it, not realizing how parched I was.
“Guess you needed your own after all,” he said with a laugh as we headed to the nearest shoe store. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sure. The whole Dawson thing is just stupid.”
“No, it’s not.” He nudged my shoulder. “The guy is hot. I can understand why you crushed hard on him.”
I turned away as my face heated up, the humiliation still close to the surface.
Elliot gripped my arm. “Wait a minute, you’re not still crushing on him, are you?” The amusement was gone from his eyes, replaced by the protective Elliot I’d come to know all too well. But he still sounded way too much like my older brother.
“Hell no. I know better than to fall for supposed straight boys.”
Elliot sighed. “Tell me about it.”
“I’d be mortified if he thought I still had a thing for him,” I said as we stepped inside the store and glanced at the shelves of shoes.
He picked up the nearest black Oxfords. “Which is where I come into play.”
“What do you mean?”
Elliot quirked an eyebrow. “You could totally pretend you have a thing for me instead. Play it up.”
I cracked a smile. “You’re just an attention whore.”
“Is that wrong?” he said, eyeing some loafers. “Whatever. It was just an idea.”
“I guess it’s a good one. Thanks for being here. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“Oh, I have plenty of ideas.” This time his tone wasn’t teasing.
“Like what?”
He lightly bit his lip. “Help me study for my biochemistry class so I don’t fail?”
I lifted my hand for a high-five. “Deal.”
9
Elliot
The Pirates’ fundraiser was at the Girards’ bowling alley, and I’d just beaten Morgan in a round of air hockey. He suggested we join Jasmine’s bowling team at the far end of the lanes before they started their next game. The whole idea was to have fun and buy raffle tickets for the auction at the end of the night to help support the team’s travel schedule.
Despite it being casual, I could still feel the tension rolling off Morgan when it was his turn to bowl. He wasn’t very coordinated, and I knew he hated drawing attention to himself, so when he nearly tripped at the foul line and got a gutter ball as a result, I made my way toward him. Much like I had at the tux place, I felt protective of him. I also wanted to have some words with Dawson, but Morgan would’ve been pissed. He would’ve told me it wasn’t my place, that I would be taking away his opportunity to set the record straight with the guy if he chose to, and he’d be right.
But this I could do. Make him not feel out of place or in the spotlight, which he hated too.
“Don’t worry about speed,” I said, grabbing the ball from the automated machine. “Just take your time and aim.”
He frowned. “My aim is shit too, remember?”
“You only think it is.” I stepped up behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders, steering him toward the lane. “Here, let me help you.”
“What are you doing?” Morgan asked with a laugh.
I pointed dead center. “I’m being an awesome date.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re my date?”
“Yeah, to the wedding.”
Morgan wiped his brow with his forearm. “I’m confused.”
“I’m practicing again, remember? Like at the tux place.”