“No way. You’re not eating this cheap store-bought Neapolitan. I should have thrown that carton out the second I saw it.”
“But Ineedthat ice cream!” My voice comes out like a whiny teen’s.
“Just stay there and keep your pants on. Or don’t. You’ll get your ice cream.”
He strides off to the kitchen. I should chase after him, but gravity still pulls me hard back onto the couch. The urge not to move is even more powerful than the urge to get justice for my stolen ice cream.
A few minutes later, Ryan returns, whistling something. He’s got two bowls in his hands, and he gives me one.
“That’s better,” he proclaims, dropping down on the couch next to me. “Ben & Jerry’s chunky monkey with chocolate syrup and sprinkles.”
“We have Ben & Jerry’s? I didn’t see it.”
“Because I hid it in the back of the fridge. Think with your head, Pips.”
Ryan grabs the edge of my purple blanket and pulls it over to cover his legs. I consider yelling at him to get his own blanket,but that’s the beauty of the giant purple blanket—it’s big enough to cover two, maybe even three people. If he’s sharing his fancy ice cream, I guess he can have a little blanket to himself.
Across from us, the gas fireplace flickers behind its glass, throwing soft light over the room and turning Ryan’s bare forearms into something out of a very specific king of daydream I refuse to admit ever having.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asks.
Of course I don’t. I don’t want to feed Ryan’s ego any further, letting him know how much Trevor liked him better than me. Then again…
“Do me a favor, Ryan. If a guy named Trevor Singh applies to play in your New Year’s tournament, tell him to go fuck himself.”
He chuckles. “You got it, kid.”
We stare at the screen for a few minutes, and my eyes start glazing over.
“You don’t want to watchBreaking Bad,” Ryan says, shaking his head. “Wait a sec, I know what you need.”
Picking up the remote, he navigates through the Sequel homepage until he’s on episode one, season one ofThe Vampire Diaries.It’s my ultimate comfort show, and I’ve watched it at least five times, start to finish. I can’t believe Ryan remembered that I like it.
The opening scene starts, Stefan Salvatore’s voice filling the living room. Ryan takes a big bite of ice cream, then points at the couple in the car.
“They’re definitely getting vampire’d,” he says around his mouth full of ice cream.
I punch him lightly in the arm. “Shhh, you’ll miss things!”
He mimes zipping his lips shut and relaxes back into the couch.
We sit there together for a while, eating ice cream and staring at the screen. I know girly fantasy isn’t really Ryan’s thing, buthe pays attention and doesn’t complain. Something about the fact that he’s willing to sit here and watch my favorite show with me burrows into my chest.
So when I feel the urge to lean against his shoulder, I do it. Ryan doesn’t make a snarky comment, for once. He silently lets me settle in against him.
The whole thing is inexplicable. I don’t understand how the person who infuriates me the most and the one who knows me best can be the same person.
15
RYAN
The other guys are too macho to say it, but I’m not—the White Elephant party is better with the girls.
For one, nobody showed up straight from the gym without showering.
For two, we’ve got homemade decorated Christmas cookies, thanks to Cat.
And for three, Pippa’s wearing a low-cut dress in a color for once—a forest green that brings out the hazel hue of her eyes. She looks hot as fuck, and I’m not ashamed to stare—when I think she won’t catch me.
