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But ask her about herself… I hit a wall. I know that wall. Which makes me wonder what’s on the other side of it. And that could’ve also drawn me into this house, without my realizing it. Standing here shaking her boyfriend’s hand, I understand what brought me here.
“Nice to meet you,” Evan says. He inspects me. He’s not sizing me up, like I’m used to. Evan’s assessing me—I’m not who he expected. Whoever Emma and Rachel portrayed me as is not who he sees in front of him.
“You too,” I tell him. Evan’s not who I expected either. He’s confident in a quiet, mature way. Not arrogant. He’s also protective of Emma, his hand finding hers or touching her back almost constantly when she’s within reach. I only see them together for thirty seconds, and that’s blatantly obvious.
While I’m flipping through Rachel’s vinyl collection, a firestorm of a girl rushes into the house without knocking. She stops in the archway of the living room, gives me a once-over and says, “Nicely done, Rachel.” Then flies up the stairs and into Emma’s room, again without knocking.
“Who was that?” I ask Rachel, who’s sipping a glass of wine and talking about a concert she attended in New Orleans last year.
“Sara. She and Evan are pretty much attached to Emma.”
“Attached? Why? Did something happen?” I don’t know why I ask this. Maybe I can sense a reason right under the surface, but I can’t quite figure it out.
Rachel lifts her empty glass as an excuse to leave the room. She never answers my question.
Collin keeps staring. His gawking has gained the attention of some of the holiday shoppers.
“Knock it off,” Jonathan tells him. Some of the women slow down and peer up at the photographic wall, then at Jonathan. Yup, he’s the shirtless guy, palming the football. He’s one of many shirtless guys advertising the store’s jeans and shorts. But he’s the only one standing in the store right now.
Their eyes rake over him like they’re picturing him naked. Forget about shirtless. I’m tempted to shield him with my body.
“I’ll meet you in Crate and Barrel.” He kisses the side of my head before striding out of the store.
“I thought it was a great idea,” I tell Collin. “Although now…” Can’t say I love witnessing my boyfriend… fiancé… openly objectified.
“Not so much anymore, huh?” Collin crosses his arms and critically appraises the giant photograph of a larger-than-life Jonathan, his beaming smile and dark eyes gazing into the distance. Collin studies it like he’s evaluating a piece of art. “How’d they get him to smile?”
“He was looking at me.”
“He got paid for this?”
“Yeah. Paid for his books this semester.”
“That’s it?” Collin scoffs.
“Not sure how much exactly. This man and woman approached us while we were getting ice cream and asked if he was interested in being an extra in a group shot. I said yes before they finished asking.”
“Of course you did.”
“Hey! It sounded exciting. Being in this fashion shoot.”
“He’s wearing jeans. Don’t get it twisted. It’s not like he’s modeling for Yves St. Laurent.”
“Still,” I say, my voice weak as my defenses crumble. “Can’t believe I convinced him to do it.”
“Neither can I,” Collin says, scowling at the wall of fit men before walking out of the store. “I don’t think I’ll be able to shop there again.”
“I’m sure it’ll only be up there for a season.” I hope.
“Wait ‘til he ends up on the shopping bag.”
“That wasn’t part of the contract.”
“Are you sure?” Collin quirks a brow like he’s disappointed with my agenting skills.
“Um…” Not really. I get so excited by the idea and the image in my head that I don’t always think things through. The reality isn’t nearly as shiny. Turns out there’s no privacy clause.
Jonathan didn’t make it far. He’s literally signing shopping bags. The women from the store hold them out for him. He widens his eyes at Collin in a silent plea for an assist. One woman is bold enough to squeeze his bicep. Jonathan jumps back.
