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“This is a limited-edition hot rod that Maeve and I have rebuilt. It is not ridiculous!”
“You’re right. It’s dangerous, stupid, and vain.”
“Ugh, you’re impossible,” I rail. “Let me say what I have to say. This is entirely out of courtesy, because it wouldn’t be right if you found out another way.”
His silence bristles. The sooner I say it, the sooner I can get out from under his judgmental glare.
“Darren and I are going to date, like, exclusively.” I don’t add that I’m on my way to see him after this conversation. “Since you were so upset the last time you saw us together—”
“Darren?” he interrupts gruffly. Bryce’s face morphs from annoyed to something else. His flared nostrils and narrowed eyes indicate irritation. “That asshole had you tied up doing drinking games at a college party, Ana. Anyone who cares for you would find that upsetting.”
I shake my head, exasperated. Bryce believes being bossy is the same as caring. That might be true, if he looked at me with anything other than irritation.
“That was months ago. Those circumstances weren’t typical, but we’ve gotten to know each other since. I enjoy talking to him, being with him. Anyway, I’m not telling you because I need your permission.”
“To what do I owe this courtesy, then?” Everything about Bryce is strained: his muted voice, his closed fists, his gritted teeth.
“When you see us together, please don’t push him into a wall,” I state.
“Darren can fend for himself,” Bryce hisses.
I turn away from him and look out the window because what did I expect? That this guy would appreciate my gesture? That he would even listen to me?
“You like him, then.”
“Yeah. And he likes me.”
“No shit.”
Now he’s swearing at me? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” After a beat, Bryce says, “Does it have to be someone that much older, Ana? Why don’t you date a boy from your school?”
“He’s five years older, which is nothing. And I’m not interested in boys my age because they’re boys.”
Silence. “You think Darren is a man, is that it?”
“I know he is.”
Bryce’s suppressed annoyance morphs into something else more tangible. Anger makes him look fierce.
Unfortunately, fury intensifies his beautiful features: jaw of chiseled stone, perfectly shaped brows arched, and heavily lashed eyes so intense, the blue glows in the dark. All his hard planes and sharp manliness activate something in me. Fascination.
“He wouldn’t know how to be the man you need if I gave him an instruction manual.” Bryce’s voice is hushed yet full of conviction.
Something about his phrasing vexes me. “Are you insinuating you could provide an instruction manual on what I need, Bryce?” I huff in disbelief. “Jesus, the only vain thing in this car is you.”
“Goddamn it, Ana.” His breathing has stalled and so has mine. His parted lips draw my attention. When Bryce speaks again, it’s so low and husky, I have to lean closer to hear him. “Why? Why do you need a man?”
Heat rushes to the roots of my hair. I refuse to look away. There’s no point being embarrassed about something I’m resolved to do.
“I don’t want to go to college without some… experience. I’ve never even been properly kissed. Or not in the way people talk about being kissed.”
His Adam’s apple bobs, and I’m mesmerized by the muscles straining along his neck.
“How do people talk about being kissed?” he asks.
“Like it’s transformative somehow!”
