“No! Not my sis.”
“Yes—your sis!”
He couples a critical gaze with a comical smirk, and I’m taken back years to my girlhood, but this time, I’m not sixteen, and he’s not nineteen.
He shakes his head. “What the hell is wrong with teenage girls? No loyalty.”
“Oh, we have plenty of loyalty, just not to our asshole brothers.”
“So, you were loyal to your best friend’s asshole brother?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Not exactly. It’s more like, we were loyal to our crushes.”
I said it.
For the briefest of moments, I catch him looking surprised before his face contorts to a blank expression. Apparently, Mr. Shopguy likes to keep his emotions well hidden. What’s more impressive is how on Earth he didn’t realize that he was my biggest crush from the time I was twelve until I hightailed it to Hollywood.
He clears his throat, and I see his cheeks flush pink. “That’s…an interesting revelation.”
“And you had no clue?” I challenge.
“Honestly, I was probably more focused on other things.”
“On other girls, you mean.”
“I started dating when I was sixteen, which put you at thirteen. I’m not saying you weren’t pretty, but there’s a world of difference between thirteen and sixteen. Ya just didn’t register on my radar.”
“I get it, and that’s probably a good thing. It would be a bit creepy if I had, ya know, and as much as it pained me, at the time, it kept me out of trouble. I was so focused on you being my first, I barely did anything more than kiss up until I went to college.”
Garrett keeps his eyes forward, on the road, and out of nowhere, I feel a twinge of spry mischief.
“Do I register now?” I ask coyly.
His eyes bulge. “Excuse me?”
“I can understand why gangly thirteen year old me wouldn’t register on your radar, but what about twenty-nine year old me?”
His eyes dart to me, and I bat my long lashes. He swallows hard, his chest rising and falling like a piston.
“Or am I just not your type? What is your type?” I pull out my phone. “Give me the name of your most recent ex,” I say playfully.
“What? Are you trying to stalk me or something?”
“I think the act of stalking requires stealth, so no. Consider this more…and investigation.”
“Well, maybe I do not submit to this investigation.”
“Oh, come on! You know my dating history, or rather you do if you pay any attention to the news.”
“Ah, yes. Christ, Corey, Alex, Chris, Chris, what’s-his-name with the huge dork glasses, and Micheal.”
“That dork with the glasses was totally not a boyfriend.”
“A fling, whatever you call them these days?”
“No, he’s gay. He’s my gay friend.”
