Page 50 of The Right Move

“Yes.”

He nods, those ocean eyes staying calm, cool, collected—a Ryan Shay signature. “Is there something going on between you two?”

“What?” I burst with a laugh. “No.”

He doesn’t respond, waiting for me to elaborate.

“He is a good friend, though.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes, Ryan. Just a friend. What’s with the lineup of questions?”

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. I figured I should know if you’re seeing someone.”

“Well, I’m not. You’re the only man I’m seeing. Pretend or otherwise.”

Ryan’s set shoulders drop slightly, and the movement is so minor that I could’ve imagined it. He nods. No words, simply a head movement to end the conversation.

“Are you sure you’re all right being here, or do you want to go home?”

At that moment, Stevie and Zanders take two more seats at our table, but don’t pay us any attention. Ryan’s change in posture and the ease in his eyes is unmistakable from having his sister around.

“I’m all right. Tonight is kind of fun, actually.”

He leans his elbows on his knees that bracket mine as his fingertips begin to softly dance along the satin of my dress, mindlessly tracing the fabric.

Acting. Fake. Pretend.

“You’re a different guy when your sister is around.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re relaxed because she’s here tonight.”

Ryan looks across the table to where Stevie sits. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. I guess you're right.”

“It’s nice to see you like this.”

His fingertips freeze on the satin as he watches me, lips slightly parted. After a moment, he slides his hands, taking up more residency on my legs.

Black suit, a Rolex on his wrist, and those cuff links create a daydream I can’t stop thinking about. I wonder what he looks like peeling off that suit. Does he have a specific place where he likes to store those accessories? Knowing Ryan, yes, of course, but does he organize his things even when there’s a woman waiting for him on his bed?

I think I’d like that view. Watching him slowly peel off every layer with precision while I’m sprawled out on my back.

Clearing my throat and my mind of those daydreams, I whisper, “Can I tell you something kind of ridiculous?”

There’s a tilt of his lips, but he tries to suppress it. “Please do.”

“I know this isn’t real, but this is the first date I’ve been on.”

“You mean since the breakup?”

“No, I mean ever.”

Eyes widen. “How is that possible?”

“Alex and I had just kind of decided we were together one day. There was no first date or any date really. When we went out it was with all our friends. Sure, we lived together, but this is my first proper date, one-on-one. Ironic that it’s fake, huh?”

---