Page 88 of The Right Move

Taking a small sip of my drink, I’m pleasantly surprised to find its only sparkling water. The bartender shoots me a wink and I secretly hope she charges him for a double.

“So, what do you say?” Jason asks, his hand sliding onto my thigh.

I pick up his sleeve with my thumb and forefinger, as if he might have a disease, and move him off me. “What do I say about what?”

“What do you say about coming back to my place? It’s a ten-minute walk from here.”

“Actually, I’m going to call it a night.”

“Why?”

“I’m tired.”

He laughs without humor. “Sure, you are. Fine. I get it. We’ll stay here for now.” He takes another swig of his drink, but then his eyes fixate on the door behind me. “Oh my God, that’s—”

His words tune out when I turn around to find Ryan standing in the doorway of Sullivan’s. His angry eyes wander the room, until they soften slightly, landing on me. He takes me in, his shoulders dropping until his attention lands on my knee, and he stiffens again.

Jason’s hand is back, and I didn’t realize.

Ryan’s strides are big and commanding, as if he wasn’t already drawing the attention of the entire room simply by being who he is. I can’t believe he left the apartment, and it’s quickly dawning on me why he typically doesn’t. Every pair of eyes is on him, and the whispers are low but discernible.

“Is that Ryan Shay?”

“Oh my God, it’s Ryan Shay.”

“Quick! Get your phone out!”

His anger is palpable by the time he reaches me, but the controlled venom of his voice is the scariest part. “Get your fucking hands off her.”

I stand, removing Jason’s hand in the act, but also putting my body between Ryan and him.

“Whoa, man.” Jason laughs like the unaware man that he is.

The quick flash of a camera phone reminds me who Ryan is, his reputation, and what’s about to happen if I don’t get him out of this bar.

“Ryan, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He looks around me, as if I’m not there. “Did you touch her?” He turns towards the bartender. “Did he touch her?”

“Ryan,” I attempt to interrupt.

“I had an eye on her,” the bartender says.

“Ryan, people are watching.”

Finally, his angry stare breaks away from my date. “I don’t give a fuck, Indy.” Just as quickly, his attention swings back to the man behind me. “Did you fucking touch her?” His nostrils flare and if I wasn’t so wrapped up in what’s happening in this moment, I’d give him a pat on the back for pulling off that whole “jealous book boyfriend” thing.

“Not in any way she wasn’t asking for.”

Oh God, he’s revolting.

I’m not looking at Jason, but I’m sure his smile is smug, and the quick lunge Ryan takes towards him ensures me that it is.

An alert movement keeps my body between them. My fists ball in Ryan’s shirt, tugging him down, hoping to get in his line of sight. “Let’s go home, Ryan. I want to go home.”

Finally, he looks at me, his chest thumping against my hand. Cupping my face with his palms, he checks me up and down as if he could tell from my outward appearance. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I promise. Take me home.”

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