Problematic Summer Romance (Not in Love, #2)(105)

“As the older brother, my approval is unnecessary.”

She grins. “Perfect answer. I raised you so well.”

“You did. Also, I’m scared of Maya. And, to a lesser extent, of Hark.”

Conor sighs. Wisely, he has yet to start eating. Unwisely, he has given up alcohol, which means that he didn’t have the benefit of a predinner glass of wine. “Maya and I are together. Dating. In a relationship. Whatever.”

“Have you proposed yet?” Rue asks.

“I have been exercising restraint.” He glances around the table. “If you have something to say on the matter, feel free to do so now.”

“Or forever hold our peace?” Minami asks.

Conor snorts. “As if you would.”

“I don’t really see what the big deal is,” Minami says. “It’s still much less weird than Eli ending up with Florence’s protégé.”

Conor drums his fingers. “At the very least, equally weird.”

“Honestly,” Minami continues with some throat-clearing. “I must admit that I was taken by surprise. I’m sure you’re not embarking into this relationship without being aware of certain aspects that could, um, become problematic.”

I bite the smile off my face. Under the table, I text Nyota. First mention of the word problematic.

Nyota: Was it Minami?

Maya: Yup.

Nyota: Told ya.

“But”—Minami grins—“I’m really happy with how happy you two look. And this means that Maya will hang out with us all the time. We’ll have a resident youth, and no longer be cringe and out of touch.”

I make a face. “Sorry, can’t help you with that.”

“Bummer.”

“The only concern is, would the friend group survive a breakup between Hark and another member?” Sul asks. But everyone looks at Minami, which has him conceding, “Good point,” and going back to his food. I wonder if he’ll talk again tonight.

“For what it’s worth,” Conor says, sitting back in his chair, “I doubt we will. This is…it’s not a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

Minami nods. “Well, we all knew that Maya had a bit of a crush on you when she was younger, but…”

“That’s not the whole story,” he says.

“It isn’t?”

“There are a bunch of…flashbacks,” I say.

It seems to pique their curiosity. Sul drops his fork. Minami leans closer. Even Rue, despite being Rue, seems interested. “Do tell,” Eli invites.

Conor and I exchange a glance. Under the table, he takes my hand and says: “Remember a few years ago, the Mayers deal?”



* * *





We spend that night on the couch in Conor’s sunroom.

I lie down on top of him, sweat cooling off my skin. The scent of the citronella mixes with the evening Austin air, so similar to Sicily, so completely different.

“Antares?” He points at a red spark in the sky, and I laugh.

“That’s a plane.”

“You sure?”

“I hate you.”

I let his sigh rock me like a wave. “I think it went well,” he muses.

“I agree. Aside from Eli begging us not to elope to Vegas in the next two weeks, which makes me want to do exactly that.”

His lips quirk. A crooked smile. “Don’t say that. I’m trying very hard not to ask you to marry me.”

“Don’t stop yourself on my behalf. I love a marriage proposal before bed.” I nibble on his shoulder. Shiver, chilly.

“Let me get you something to wear.”

“It’s fine. I’m not that cold.”

But he’s already gently sliding from underneath me. I follow him with my eyes, his naked thighs, the slab of his back. I’ve never found men’s asses attractive, and I’m not sure why I can’t stop looking at his. It’s more the ease of him, his confidence in his body that…

Conor is coming back. But when he returns he’s not carrying a shirt, or a sweater, or anything that I would associate with wearing.

And I’m not stupid. So I sit up.

“Oh my god. You’re doing it. For real.”

He stops a few feet from me. Tilts his head, and asks, “That one’s Antares, right?”

And yes. It is. “Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you’re proposing to me, while we are both naked, after we’ve been dating for approximately a month, by pointing out my favorite star?”

“I don’t know. Did it work?”

“Do you want it to work?”

“Listen, this is not…” He runs a hand over his hair, surprisingly conflicted. “I was in Montreal, walking around, and I saw a ring that I thought you might like, but you don’t have to…”

It’s all I can do not to laugh in his face. “You seem nervous, Conor.”

“I am.”

“Were you this nervous with Minami?”

“No.”

“You thought she’d say yes, huh?”

His shrug is simple. “I knew I could survive her no.” There is something about the way he says it, the implications, what’s hidden between the words, that…