He glanced at Shayla. “Shayla, right?”
Of course he remembered Shay’s name, even though he barely knew her. She looked like a model. I mean, Shay was never the prettiest girl around, but she was skinny as a model, for sure.
“Hey.” She smiled a little, then threw me an uncomfortable glance.
“I’m… uh… heading to the gym,” he said, to me, because for whatever reason he felt the need to inform me of his destination—while he was wearing gym shorts, a workout shirt and sneaks. And carrying a gym bag.
I crunched a cheesy poof, in no hurry to respond. “You don’t say.”
“You need anything?”
I scowled at him, briefly. “From the gym?”
“How about a six-pack?” Shay laughed at her own joke.
Xander didn’t laugh. He just stood there for a long, long moment, while I ignored him.
“See you later,” he said, and strolled out to the driveway.
“Oh. My. Gaaawd,” Larissa said, flicking a cheesy poof at Shay. “Did you just flirt with him?”
Shayla gaped at me. “He’s back??”
“Unfortunately.”
Now Larissa threw a cheesy poof at me. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I didnotflirt with him,” Shay sniffed. “It was a joke.”
“Only because he didn’t laugh,” Larissa said.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“He’s staying in the poolhouse?” That was Larissa.
“Unfortunately.”
“OMFG. This is perfect!” That was Shayla.
“How?”
“How? Because now your summer isset. I’m thinking a pool-boy-slash-rock-star sandwich, featuringyouas the meat in the middle. Hashtag: sexbythepool, baby.”
“First of all, it’s my brother’s pool. I’m not having sex by it. And second, I’m not having sex with Xander Rush, anywhere.”
“Come on. I know you think he’s shallow, but you have all this amazing, sexy tension between you…”
“It’s called hatred,” I informed her.
“Mmm,” she purred. “Sounds delicious.”
Larissa actually snickered.
“He’s thirty,” Shay informed me. “Hashtag: fact. He’ll know what he’s doing. Who better to pop that cherry?”
“Ugh. Stop.”
“No cherry talk!” Larissa complained. “It’s bullshit. If boys lose their virginity when they’re thirteen, they’re studs. Girls have cherries that need popping. It’s degrading and medieval.”
