Page 71 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
There’s something vaguely comforting about his jersey that I stole, so I can bet his overnight stuff will be soft and warm as well.
“Okay,” I say.
I head into the bathroom and change into them. When I come back, he looks me up and down, his lips curling upward.
“Wow.”
“Are you serious?” I ask. “You just gave me this to wear. Are you really picking on me already?”
“I’m not, actually. I was just going to say that shirt looks good on you.”
I look at it. The old Atlanta Ice Storms T-shirt.
“It’s comfortable,” I admit, shrugging a shoulder.
Ryan has taken up what I assume is his usual spot, spread out on the right side of the couch. So I move to the left side and sit down with my hip completely flush with the sofa’s arm.
Ryan gives me a funny look but doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he says, “So you’re here in my house, sitting on my couch, and yet you’re not going for my throat. Is that being friendly, where you’re concerned?”
His teasing remark pulls a laugh from me.
“I admit, I’m too worn out to have the energy to have enemies right now. Honestly, I was thinking about having a date with a spare bed at Jay’s.”
He smiles, that impish smile that always gets me in trouble. “Well, I hope you don’t mind staying up with me for a while. I need to wind down.”
“As long as tonight is relaxing, I don’t care what we do.”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I realize that could be misinterpreted.
“It’s cute how you go all quiet around everyone else,” Ryan says, eyes gleaming. “Why am I the only one who gets the smartass version of you?”
“You’re just lucky, I guess,” I sass.
He opens his mouth to reply, but just at that moment, the doorbell rings. The food has arrived.
Ryan goes to the door and brings back two big brown bags.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he says.
He hands me one bag and moves around to sit down, dumping out the other with no regard for the well-being of the expensive-looking coffee table before him.
I open my bag with more care and find french fries. Extra crispy, the way Brick Store does them. A burger. I don’t make a face because he got me food, but I don’t really like hamburgers. Eating cows just seems wrong after watching so many videos of people playing with cute cows and cows running around with puppies.
So I don’t say anything. But when I unwrap my burger, I find that he placed my order exactly the way I like it: a turkey burger, extra Swiss cheese, barbecue sauce, and brown gravy.
I gape at my food for a moment, surprised he would even know that.
Ryan pauses, about to take a bite of his burger. “Is everything okay?”
I nod. He relaxes. He takes a bite. It’s literally a third of the whole burger. He chews, a little messy. I can’t help but smile.
“I can’t believe you knew what I liked.”
He frowns and chews a little more. “Are you kidding? You’ve only ordered that exact thing in front of me, like, a hundred times.”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t think you noticed,” I say.
