Rush Me (New York Leopards 1)

His grin widened. “It didn’t work out. Are you guys bringing anyone?”

“No,” Kate said, and I echoed her.

“What was that about?” I asked as we left the party, heading for her scraped and dented junker.

“Were you and Thomas flirting?”

“What? No!” We slid into the car. “Why, do you think so? No, you know Thomas, he’s just super friendly.”

“Yeah, well, he was ‘super-friendly’ with you for an hour.” We pulled out of the driveway. “He barely talked to anyone else once you got there.”

I shook my head. The idea that Thomas Brewer could finally pay attention to me was just too ridiculous. Flattering, but silly all the same.

That night, I revived an old daydream about Thomas visiting me. It used to be set in college, and he would come visit and find me surrounded by a flock of eager suitors. Filled with jealously, he’d finally realize how much he liked me.

Only in this daydream, before I drifted off to bed, Ryan kept showing up. And this time it wasn’t Thomas who became jealous and realized his true feelings.

Damn, I was in trouble.

* * *

Back in Brooklyn, I kept waiting for Ryan to call. It was irritating. Really irritating. Also, why was I waiting for him to call? Why wasn’t I calling him? I stared down at my cell phone, Ryan’s number highlighted, sweating from the pressure of hitting or not hitting the call button.

Not hitting kept winning out.

Eva watched with bemused bewilderment. “You like him. Just call.”

“But I kissed him! He should call me!”

“You’re being totally irrational.”

“Argh!” I cried in agreement.

By Wednesday, I couldn’t take the uncertainty any longer. We were sort of friends, weren’t we? I could call him if I wanted. In Ashbury, I’d kept wanting to tell him silly stuff, stories, or dumb little things my brother said. I’d wanted to hear him laugh.

So, while Eva was out at rehearsal, I barricaded myself in my closet and pulled my blanket in after me. Closed, confined spaces boosted my courage. I pressed my cell to my ear and listened to the endless ringing. He wasn’t going to pick up. Of course not. The butterflies died, their corpses solidifyin

g into cold and heavy relief.

“Hey.”

I shot upright, banging my head on a closet shelf, before huddling back into my blanket. His voice was deep and low, and hit me the same way. “Hey!” I responded, appallingly chipper. “Are we on for dinner on Friday?”

The silence stretched on too long. I closed my eyes. “Sorry,” Ryan said. “There’s a charity auction a bunch of us are going to.”

“Oh.” I clutched my cell. I was an idiot. He didn’t want to see me. He hadn’t missed me at all. I shouldn’t have kissed him. “Okay. That’s fine. I just wanted to check.”

Another silence, as I tried to figure out how to end this. “You could come if you wanted.”

I froze. Like a...date? No. That was silly. We weren’t even real friends. He wouldn’t ask me as a date.

So was he asking me as a friend?

Wait, no, I’d just established we weren’t real friends.

So was this a pity invitation?

“Rachael?”