Tucking my hair back, I glance at him and then at the road. “You did try,” I say, remembering how kind and generous Shane was with his attention that first year. “I was flattered…I milked it,” I admit. “‘Can you open this jar for me, Shane?’ ‘Can you reach the lemonade pitcher on the top shelf for me?’”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “‘I need four sandbags for my science project. They’re really heavy. Will you help me?’”
A small smile forms. “Yeah, those.” He never even let me touch the sandbags. For him, carrying them was nothing.
The car hums along the highway.
“This car is a stick of butter on four wheels,” I murmur.
“True statement.”
“Growing up, my dad was barely ever around, and my mom’s boyfriends before Ethan…I never got to know them all that well. When we moved in with you guys, Ethan was so nice. It was like he loved doing things for us.”
“What he loves is having a trophy wife who strokes his ego, among other things.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s not a trophy wife.” I press my back into the seat, staring out. “He loves us, and we love him.” My thumb rubs the knee of my jeans, smoothing the fabric. “I should’ve askedhimto help me with the science project sandbags.”
“Sure, when the heaviest thing my dad lifts most days is his gold-plated pen.”
“You act like he’s not fit. He jogs.”
“For the endorphin rush. If you’d asked him to move sandbags, he’d have said sure and then paid the gardener to do it.”
I chuckle. “Probably.” I glance at Shane’s profile, then back at the road. “Looking back though, I still shouldn’t have asked you. I knew there was something wrong about it. Other girls mentioned their dads or brothers doing things for them. Moving furniture. Hanging shelves. It seemed normal…on the surface.”
He’s silent.
“You never acted like it bothered you.”
“Because it didn’t.”
“But the only time I asked you to do things was when no one was close enough to overhear me. That’s what made it sketchy.”
“It’s one of the things.” There’s a teasing note to his voice, which makes me smile.
“You could’ve stopped it any time. If you’d said no, even once, I wouldn’t have asked again.”
“There was no need to shut it down. It was innocent.”
“It was flirting.” My gaze slides to his profile, assessing him. As per usual, his face is unreadable. “I was fifteen. I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“That’s why it was innocent.”
I wait, but he doesn’t say more. As usual, no conversation with him feels like enough.
“You just admitted you understand I was too innocent to know what I was doing around you, Shane. But you still blame me for not being experienced enough to instantly realize you didn’t touch me while I was drunk?”
His jaw works, and he shakes his head. “Do you need me to spell it out for you?” he asks as he pulls into a GU parking lot.
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“First of all, if I’d wanted to touch you, I didn’t need to wait until you were unconscious. You had a crush on me. If I’d wanted to fuck you, I wouldn’t have needed to get you blackout drunk to do it. And I definitely wouldn’t have left you naked on the couch for our parents to find. You were the virgin, not me. I knew where to take a girl if I wanted to get laid.”
My stomach knots at the thought of him with other girls. “All right. But I didn’t know you knew about the crush, and I didn’t think about the fact that you probably knew where to take girls so you wouldn’t get caught. I—”
“Aside from that, you’re living in my house right now for a reason, Avery. What is it?”
“What?” My head tilts in confusion. “I’m afraid of Casanova.”
