He leaned forward, sympathy radiating off him. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“You were right. When I thought about why Ryan was letting me ‘jerk him around,’” I made weak air quotes and swallowed, “it was never about liking me—I was just a challenge. His reaction to my haircut made that clear.”
Gyver shut his eyes for a second, rubbed their lids before looking at me with the Russo intensity. “He doesn’t deserve you, but I can’t believe he doesn’t like you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I pinched crumbs off my crust and rolled them into balls.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Pressed his lips tight. Stood up. Leaned against the back of his chair. Opened his mouth again. Shut it. Sat down. Nodded.
I touched his knee. “Thanks for not saying ‘I told you so.’”
He closed his hand over mine. “Let’s get out of here, Mi. Go do something.”
Escape sounded perfect. “Something from one of your lists? Can I see them yet?”
“Let’s get them and go.” He stood and held out a hand.
“You get them and I’ll change.”
“Why? You’re fine.” Gyver tilted his head and looked at me.
“I look like a grub. If I try and leave the house like this, Mom’ll throw a fit.”
“Suit yourself—but you look fine.”
“Be right back.”
When I returned to the kitchen in jeans, sweater, and wig, Gyver was bent over the fridge. “Hungry again?” I teased. “Or are you finding a place for my sympathy pasta?”
“Your mom said to help myself. What’s sympathy pasta?” Ryan straightened and turned.
“What are you doing here?” I stepped back.
“You didn’t answer your phone.” Ryan shut the fridge. “What’s going on?”
“That’s a good question.” Gyver stormed into the kitchen and stepped between Ryan and me. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Back off. What’s the matter?” Ryan looked from Gyver’s glower to my lip chewing.
Gyver grabbed his arm. “I think you’d better go.”
Ryan shook off his grip and turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Did I miss something?” He reached for me, but Gyver blocked his arm. Ryan snapped, “Chill out. What does this have to do with you?”
Gyver’s voice came out as a growl. “She doesn’t want you.”
“Maybe,” Ryan admitted with a shrug and a half grin, “but I’d still rather hear it from Mia.”
They both looked at me. Ryan’s eyes were lined with frustration. Gyver’s flamed with protective anger, but as I extended our gaze, the corners of his mouth twitched with victory. My hand strayed to fiddle with my necklace and paused on the still-unfamiliar shape. Was it an unlucky charm? Or had I overreacted?
“I need to talk to Ryan. I’ll call you in a little while, Gyver.”
Gyver’s half-formed smile faded. He left. He didn’t say good-bye, didn’t look back when I called his name.
Ryan took a step toward me and touched my crossed arms. “So … want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Look, I said I’d give you a chance, and I did. I don’t really know what else to say.”
“A chance? Is that what you call it when you cancel all my dates and hire Russo to play some messed-up version of bodyguard? I’m trying here—are you?”
Ryan’s hand slipped off me and he slumped into a kitchen chair. “I give up. You’ve already made up your mind; it doesn’t matter what I do.”
The resignation in his voice made my stomach clench. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees so I wouldn’t go wrap them around him. I had to remind myself: he’d disappointed me. He didn’t want me.
“Why are you doing this? Is the chase that fun? What do you think’s going to happen if I say yes?”
“Fun? Do I look like I’m having fun?” His laughter cut through me. “If I wanted a girl who’d get naked as soon as I winked at her, I’d go for Lauren or Hil. I want you. I thought you’d figured that out by now.”
“Hil? Are you crazy? She’d rip your balls off before she’d let them near her.”
Ryan shrugged and climbed out of his chair to sit across from me with his back against the refrigerator. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, but who cares—that’s not the point. You’re mad about something.”
“Well, yeah.” I tapped my head self-consciously.
“Because of how I reacted about your hair? What’d I do wrong? It looks good, by the way. Way better than I expected.”
Now that he said it, I felt stupid. Especially since he was looking at me with unguarded appreciation. “‘Bald? Shit!’ wasn’t really what I wanted to hear.”
“You surprised me. I’m no good with stuff like that. I’m trying, but I’m no good with it. You’ve got to give me some warning.” He stretched and touched my wig with a cautious finger. “I can’t even tell. It looks like your hair and even feels real.”