Regardless, I tug the lapels together, covering me with the jacket’s warmth and Ryan’s scent—crisp and refined.
Ryan retakes his seat, his legs trapping mine once again. “Remind me of that guy’s name.”
I feign innocence. “What guy?”
“You know which guy.”
“Rio? He plays for the Raptors. You’ve met him before.”
“So, you see him every time you’re on the road for work?”
“Yes.”
He nods, those ocean eyes staying calm, cool, collected—a Ryan Shay signature. “Is there something going on between you two?”
“What?” I burst with a laugh. “No.”
He doesn’t respond, waiting for me to elaborate.
“He is a good friend, though.”
“Just a friend?”
“Yes, Ryan. Just a friend. What’s with the lineup of questions?”
“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. I figured I should know if you’re seeing someone.”
“Well, I’m not. You’re the only man I’m seeing. Pretend or otherwise.”
Ryan’s set shoulders drop slightly, and the movement is so minor that I could’ve imagined it. He nods. No words, simply a head movement to end the conversation.
“Are you sure you’re all right being here, or do you want to go home?”
At that moment, Stevie and Zanders take two more seats at our table, but don’t pay us any attention. Ryan’s change in posture and the ease in his eyes is unmistakable from having his sister around.
“I’m all right. Tonight is kind of fun, actually.”
He leans his elbows on his knees that bracket mine as his fingertips begin to softly dance along the satin of my dress, mindlessly tracing the fabric.
Acting. Fake. Pretend.
“You’re a different guy when your sister is around.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re relaxed because she’s here tonight.”
Ryan looks across the table to where Stevie sits. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. I guess you're right.”
“It’s nice to see you like this.”
His fingertips freeze on the satin as he watches me, lips slightly parted. After a moment, he slides his hands, taking up more residency on my legs.
Black suit, a Rolex on his wrist, and those cuff links create a daydream I can’t stop thinking about. I wonder what he looks like peeling off that suit. Does he have a specific place where he likes to store those accessories? Knowing Ryan, yes, of course, but does he organize his things even when there’s a woman waiting for him on his bed?
I think I’d like that view. Watching him slowly peel off every layer with precision while I’m sprawled out on my back.
Clearing my throat and my mind of those daydreams, I whisper, “Can I tell you something kind of ridiculous?”
There’s a tilt of his lips, but he tries to suppress it. “Please do.”
“I know this isn’t real, but this is the first date I’ve been on.”
“You mean since the breakup?”
“No, I mean ever.”
Eyes widen. “How is that possible?”
“Alex and I had just kind of decided we were together one day. There was no first date or any date really. When we went out it was with all our friends. Sure, we lived together, but this is my first proper date, one-on-one. Ironic that it’s fake, huh?”
Ryan’s confused brow softens. “Indy, I wish I had known.”
“Why?” I laugh. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
A moment of silence lingers between us, and I wish I had something to say, something to break the tension and the wave of awkwardness after admitting to my superstar athlete roommate that I’ve never been on a date.
Ryan speaks before I can come up with something. “So, Dartmouth, huh?”
“Yep.”
I find his palms on my thighs, wishing I could put my hand on his, to feel our fingers intertwine as they did earlier tonight, but I don’t want him to stop tracing mindless designs on my legs either.
“Where did you end up going since you didn’t get in?”
“Oh, I got in.”
His head jolts back slightly. “But you didn’t attend?”
Ryan’s hands slide again, his palms now living on my upper thighs with authority. I should look around and find Ron Morgan, reassuring myself this is all an act, but there’s the romantic part of me that wants to continue living in the fantasy, even if it is a lie.
“Alex and all our friends were staying in Chicago, and we weren’t quite together yet, but I knew we would be. He didn’t feel comfortable with us doing long distance.” I laugh without humor. “I should’ve listened to him back then. The second I started traveling for work, he got with someone else.”
Pity covers Ryan’s face. “Blue—”
“Don’t feel bad for me. Yes, I stayed near Chicago to be closer to Alex, but I’m privileged. I still went to a great school, and I still got my MBA. Sure, I don’t use it, but I can’t exactly complain.”
Ryan’s brows find each other, creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say that when Ron brought up Dartmouth? That’s impressive as hell. You’re impressive.”
“Because I’ve learned over the years that sometimes people, especially men, are more intimidated than impressed by intelligence. I was valedictorian of our class, but I wasn’t given a second glance until I grew into my body. Some men don’t want to feel like they have someone to compete with, so I play the game. I’m trying to get your boss to like me, not feel like I’m overstepping.”
I’m good at reading people. I know how to make them feel comfortable around me. I know how to adjust who I am depending on the person I’m with. As much as I love people, sometimes they suck and what makes them comfortable is for you to appear to be inferior.
I did it plenty in my last relationship.
“Indy—”
“Please, Ryan, don’t say anything. I know everything you’re thinking right now.”
“No. That’s not how this is going to go. When you’re with me, I want you exactly as you are. That includes letting people know just how fucking smart you are. You’re not going to cater to anyone’s toxic masculinity bullshit. You’re not going to be quiet and appeasing when you’re with me. If Ron, or anyone else for that matter, has an issue with you being smarter than him, then we’re going to have a far bigger problem than him thinking I’m not a good leader.”
“Ryan, it’s fine. I’ve done it for years.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing. How fucking small was Alex’s dick that he let you do this? Or should I say, asked you to do this. That shit is manipulative and controlling because, let me guess, he didn’t like that you were smarter than him, possibly more successful. Did he ask you to tone it down in front of his friends? Did he want you to stay quiet and look pretty so his colleagues wouldn’t think less of him?”
What the hell? There’s a strong prick in my eyes, a quick burn of my nose because Ryan is right. He’s never met him, and yet, he knows everything I tried to ignore.
“Don’t.” Ryan sits forward. “Don’t you dare cry.”