Page 16 of No One But Us

“Oh. I’m still at thebeach.”

Is that what I should have said? Probably not. But in the moment my mind isblank.

“No problem,” he says. “I’ll call you next week. But let me know if you come home sooner. I miss seeing yourface.”

I hang up and lay the phone on the counter, avoiding eye contact witheveryone.

“What did he say?” asksMax.

I shrug. “He’s going to find me somethingelse.”

James’ voice comes next, low and suspicious. “Then why don’t you lookhappy?”

“He wanted to come to my dad’s place to ‘discuss’ it withme.”

I hear James’ hiss from across the room. “If I ever run into that guy, he’s going to discuss it with myfist.”

Max is more sanguine. “She’s a pretty girl, James. It won’t be the first or last time it happens. Consider this her chance to learn how to deal withit.”

“Girlis the key word,” James growls. “He’s old enough to be hergrandfather.”

That’s a bit of a stretch, but what I like least is the fact that James seems bound and determined to see me as achild.

* * *

Max and I go to yoga again. In spite of his constant references to dating me (well, actually “dating” is a somewhat unspecific term for what he references), I’ve discovered that Max is harmless. We have an easy back-and-forth, a kind of Luke-and-Leia vibe that could never be more thanfriendship.

On the way home, I’m so drenched in sweat that it looks like I took a swim. “If Ginny’s Skyping with Alex and won’t let me in again, I’m going to killher.”

More than once I’ve found myself locked out for Ginny’s chats—mostly to Alex but occasionally to Allison, oddly enough. I’ve never once heard James talk to Allison, but Ginny seems to chat with her everyday.

“Skyping?Are youserious?”

I shrug. “He’s her boyfriend, and they’re apart all summer. Why shouldn’t theytalk?”

“The only times I’ve ever Skyped a girl, there was nudity involved and a lot more thanthat.”

I laugh. “Not in a million years would either of them do that. Especially not Alex. He and Ginny are so alike they scare mesometimes.”

“Yeah. That’s perfect. I bet the two of them can get together and havenofun for hours or even days at a time,” he says. “In my opinion, the last thing she needs is to date someone just likeherself.”

We walk into the backyard to dump our yoga mats. It’s not until we’re feet away that I realize James is lying in the grass doing sit-ups. Shirtless. He seems to have twice the number of muscles a human torso should contain. And his arms…flexed as he pulls forward…Jesus. I’m pretty sure modern science hasn’t come up with a name for all of the muscles in his arms. He may be a new speciesentirely.

“Well, well,” whispers Max, grinning as he catches me staring. “What’sthis?”

I narrow my eyes. “I was juststartled.”

“Sure,” he says. “I always drool when I’m startledtoo.”

James sees us and sits up, casting a narrowed eye at our yoga mats. “When did the two of you become workoutbuddies?”

“When the opportunity to stand behind Elle in downward-facing dog became a possibility,” Maxreplies.

I groan. “That had better not be why you’re always behindme.”

“Fine, tomorrow you can be behind me. I’ll be doing yoga in your cut-off jean shorts,FYI.”

I laugh, but James, standing in place with his arms folded across his chest, does not. He is, in fact, glaring at both of us, as if we’ve done somethingwrong.

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