My eyebrows pinch, and I scrunch my nose. James is sitting next to me, ignoring this conversation, and scanning the menu. My gaze bounces from him to my sister.
She gestures for me to get up.
“Why can’t Addie do it?” I point to where Addie’s sitting next to James.
“August,” Ellie says through clenched teeth. “Get up. Now.”
I mutter a curse word under my breath, pushing my seat back and standing.
She sits there for a beat before peering back up at me, then shoos me with her hand. “Go on.”
Turning on my heel, I clench my jaw, biting my tongue so I don’t say anything I may regret. She doesn’t need to talk to James about wedding stuff. What exactly is he going to do? Coordinate the flowers?
I tighten my fist from nerves when I pull out the chair Ellie was sitting in and sit next to Riley. We’re close enough that I can smell her perfume. The scent reminds me of strawberry lemonade. Sweet and refreshing. Just like Riley.
What should I do? Do I initiate the conversation? Do I tell her that disappearing after what I thought was a great night hurt my feelings? Or remind her that she’s the first person I’ve slept with in a year?
I don’t feel embarrassed by that. There’s no shame in the fact that I decided not to sleep with anyone for that long. A lot has been going on and sure, I’m a red-blooded man who has needs, but sometimes I was too tired or took care of myself the old-fashion way.
Does she regret it because I haven’t been with someone in so long?
Grabbing the menu, I pretend to look at what I might want, but all I want to do is talk to her, hold her, ask why. I’ll start small.
“How are you doing?” I whisper.
We both keep our attention on the menu in front of us.When I let my gaze fall on her, she bites her lip, contemplation written on her face.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Busy.”
Chatter and silverware clinking fills the room, yet it’s uncomfortably quiet between the two of us. My knee bounces, causing a slight tremble on our side of the table as my elbows lean on it.
“August,” Riley says.
“What?”
“Stop jiggling. You’re moving the table.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
She lets out a breath, covering her face with her menu, but still visible to me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, keeping her voice low.
I can either lie or tell her the truth and have an awkward conversation that may or may not be heard around the table. I opt for the lie.
“I’m just dealing with a lot of stuff. The launch for the skateboards is happening soon, so I’m occupied with that.”
Finally, she looks at me, and I swear there’s a shimmer behind her eyes, a twitch at the corner of her lip.
“Really? That’s great. Is your dad excited?”
I nod. “Yeah. My mom is bringing him to the launch. He’ll be in a wheelchair because he’s too weak to walk around, but he’ll be there.”
She beams. “That’s amazing. When is it happening?”
“The third weekend of June.”
