Cole’s eyes flick to mine. So far he hasn’t given me much indication how he feels about all of this. He coughs, catches a hand in his hair and runs it down the side of his face. He didn’t shave this morning and there’s a light smattering of fair hair along his square jawline.
“Since August,” he says.
September would be more accurate but I’m guessing that he doesn’t want to get into all of that right now.
“August?” The hurt in her voice hits me squarely in the chest. “That’s quite awhile. I wish…” she sighs and looks at me. “I wish that you felt like you could talk to me.”
I squeeze my eyes and take a deep breath. “Mom…” This has to be the most awkward lunch in the history of ever.
“Aimee? Mara?”
Scratch that. It just got a lot more awkward.
I turn and see Brian St. John standing just behind my chair where the aisle opens up to the main dining room of the restaurant. His raven hair is longer than it was the last time I saw him and curls just around the edges of his ears. He’s got on a soft blue button down and dark grey pants. I’m so surprised and he looks so good that it takes me a moment to register that there’s a girl standing next to him.
“Brian!” My dad bellows. “Nice to see you, son.”
Son. My God. Both of my parents are standing up to shake Brian’s hand. Big smiles on their faces, they start in on him with the questions. Yes, he’s in school. Yes, his parents are doing well. Yes, his dad still plays golf at the club twice a week. No, he can’t believe that I’m back and didn’t call him. Brian looks at me then. I mean, really looks at me with his large brown eyes and it’s obvious that he’s crestfallen and hopeful all at once.
“Forgive my manners. I’m Elise Spencer,” my mom says politely, her eyes trained on the girl standing beside Brian.
Brian falters. “Oh, sorry. Sara, let me introduce the Spencers. Carl, Elise, Aimee and Mara.” He nods at each of us in turn. “This is my friend, Sara.”
Sara’s eyes swing to Brian’s face and I get the impression that she doesn’t like the way he just threw around the word friend, but she recovers quickly and shakes everyone’s hands. She’s tall—taller than me for sure, with cropped brown hair and warm hazel eyes.
“So…” Brian glances at Cole and takes note of the thin t-shirt, bathing suit and stiff shoulders. “Who’s this?”
Cole
I don’t do the jealousy thing. I never have. I’ve always told my friends that there’s no chick out there worth getting your panties in such a tight wad. And until today, I believed myself.
When this Brian prick walks up, at first I don’t recognize the chill that zips down from my scalp to my groin. What the hell? Then it hits me like a rock on the head. Jealousy. Fuck me.
Brian St. John has dark hair that’s flipped and messy in a way that girls dig. And here he is prancing around our table in an ironed button down shirt and slacks while I’m wearing a goddamn t-shirt and board shorts because I had no idea that this was meet-the-parents day.
While everyone else is chitchatting, I clench my jaw and move my hands to my lap. It’s crystal fucking clear that Aimee and this Brian guy have a history. He knows her. He knows her parents and they know him. Shit. They seem to love him. And it doesn’t matter that he has some cute chick on his arm because I can tell that he’s got a thing for Aimee.
Aimee
I can see that Cole is annoyed. It takes every scrap of my will not to climb into his lap right in front of my parents and tell him that Brian St. John is not even a blip on my radar.
“We have to get going.” Brian coughs, shakes his head slowly. “It was… Aimee, it was really good to see you.” His fingers wrap over my shoulder and he leans in to kiss my cheek, his mouth lingering on my flushed skin too long.
“Ahh, you too,” I say, blinking heavily as I jerk my head away.
Brian smiles. “Call me sometime so we can catch up. My number is the same.”
I’m not sure how to respond so I just nod my head and watch Brian and his date walk away. When I turn my attention back to the table, Cole is staring at me with guarded eyes like he doesn’t want me to see what’s moving behind them, and his mouth is compressed in a hard, unyielding line.
Despite the best efforts of my parents, the climate during the rest of lunch is frigid. No one says much on the ride home and when my dad reverses into a spot on the street in front of the townhouse, Mara jumps out of the car before it’s come to a full stop. She waves to our parents over her shoulder and dashes up the walkway in a sad attempt to put off the inevitable confrontation with me for as long as possible.