“I’m riding with the guys. They’ll drop me off later.”
“But—”
“Relax,” he says with a smile. “It’s a set of keys, not a diamond ring. You just need a way home.” And then, as if we’re making it a freaking habit, he leans in and kisses me right in front of Rachel, dropping the keys in my open palm. “See you later, beautiful,” he says against my lips.
And just like that, he slips out of the booth, taking all my air with him. The guys all shuffle away, leaving Rachel and I alone at the table. I glare across the empty sushi boat at her. Sharing sushi with four hockey players means there’s literally nothing left, not even the ginger garnish.
“Why are you all being so cool about this?” I say, arms crossed as I stare her down.
“What do you mean?” she asks, taking a sip of her Diet Coke.
“I mean why aren’t you threatening him or making him miserable with invasive questions and best friend attempts to protect my virtue? Where’s the righteous indignation?”
She smirks. “What makes you think we haven’t tried that already and it just didn’t work?”
I roll my eyes.
“Besides, do you really need me to protect your virtue?”
“You’ve never liked anyone that I’ve dated,” I press, my glare deepening.
She meets me stare for stare. “Is that what you’re doing, Tess? Are you and Langley dating?”
I lean across the table. “What are you up to, Rachel Price? You always hate my partners.”
“Because you always date losers who are no good for you,” she replies.
I huff, leaning away. “Erica was an art historian with a degree from Brown. She played the viola and she spoke four languages. You’re calling her a loser?”
“She was an emotional leech who bored you to death,” she counters, not missing a beat. “And the sex was middling at best, you told me yourself. She wasn’t a good match for you, Tess. You need…more. You need competence and confidence. You need excitement and playful curiosity. And you need someone who can call you on your shit,” she adds with a pointed look.
“Oh, and you think a twenty-two-year-old hockey boy is all those things?”
“Tell me he’s not,” she parries. “Tess, I have never seen you light up the way you do around Ryan. You’re comfortable with him. You’re…you. What is it about him that has you so hooked? What happened?”
“I told you what happened,” I reply, my voice lowering. “We had sex,” I say, mouthing the last word.
She rolls her eyes, speaking at a normal volume. “I know you’re having sex. That’s what happened this week. I’m talking about before.”
“Before when?”
“Before before,” she presses. “You two have been keeping dirty little secrets for weeks. Hell, I’m pretty sure it’s been months. Otherwise, how did you get so hung up on him so fast?”
“I—fuck—it was beach day, okay? We shared a sort of kismet moment.”
“Yeah, the soccer ball to the head,” she replies. “I was standing right there.”
“No, this was after.”
“After what?”
“After the beach.”
Her eyes narrow. “You just said it was on beach day.”
“It was after I left the beach,” I explain. “I went back to Jake’s to get ready for my dinner date with Charity and I may have slipped out of my suit and tossed it in the washing machine. And then I may have…wandered around naked a little.”
“Oh, Tess.” Rachel shakes her head, a smile quirking her lips.
“Yes, okay? He saw me naked on beach day. He was in the pantry, digging around like a raccoon, looking for more chips, and I didn’t see him in there.”
“And you gave him more to look at,” she teases. “So, that’s the big secret? He saw you naked on beach day?”
I glance back up at her.
She goes still, her smiling falling. “Oh, what the hell did you do? Did you fuck Ryan on beach day? Is that when this all began—”
“No,” I rasp. “And shush. Do we need this whole restaurant to know our business?”
“Will you just tell me what happened—”
“We kissed, alright?” I say over her. “We—well, we shared a perfect fucking moment if you must know. He was flirty and sweet and attentive, and we kissed, and I was naked, and it was magical. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you giving me judgy eyes or unsolicited advice—or worse, looking at me like that,” I say, pointing at her face.