“Yes,” I whisper, embarrassed. Of course he wouldn't remember all of the times we've sat in the same classroom—only the time when I ogled him in the doorway of his bedroom and completely embarrassed myself. I blush. I want to sink into this seat cushion and disappear. He frowns at me then turns his palm over and begins to pick at a callous.
“So honey, Pierce says you'll start your internship on Monday, OK? That'll give you a few days to settle in,” my mom says as she slides the sandwich in front of Nate.
“Sounds good,” I reply, glancing at Nate out of the corner of my eye.
“I'm having someone over for dinner tomorrow night,” he announces rather abruptly.
“Oh, wonderful. A friend from around here?”
“Not a friend, really. A girl I dated in high school,” Nate clarifies. I keep my eyes trained carefully forward.
“Do you know if she has any dietary restrictions?” my mom asks, excitedly flying into hostess mode. “I could make this chicken dish my mom passed down, or…”
I tune out as she offers more ideas, and polish off my sandwich as quickly as possible so I can excuse myself and go upstairs. I sigh as I close my bedroom door behind me. So now I have to have dinner with Nate's ex-girlfriend. Is this what the rest of the summer is going to be like? Nate punishing me for his father's favor by exploiting my attraction to him? I'd rather be back in the library, buried in a book.
CHAPTER SIX
I push the sautéed chicken around my plate as I try not to watch Nate drape his arm around the back of Dana's chair. She's pretty. Very pretty. And sweet. I wish she weren't so sweet so I could hate her for a good reason.
“So how long did you two date?” my mom asks.
“Well, it was on and off, so…hard to say. He actually went to prom with one of my friends,” she replies, jokingly nudging Nate, who at least has the grace to blush.
“Nate…” his dad says, shaking his head admonishingly.
“Oh, it's OK. I went with one of his friends,” Dana says with a smile. “I think we both knew it wasn't meant to be.”
“A couple of my friends met their husbands in high school,” my mom says, resting her fork on her plate. “Though I read an article recently that said that twenty-eight percent of women meet their husbands in college.” She looks pointedly at me and I jump up.
“I'll clear,” I announce. I have a feeling I know where this conversation is headed and I want to avoid it.
“Oh, thank you, Brynn,” Pierce says, as I stack the plates on top of one another.
“No problem,” I reply. “I waited tables in high school.”
“Same,” Nate says, as I reach in front of him to take his plate.
“You did not,” I retort, before I can think. He looks up at me and raises his eyebrows, his gaze unreadable beneath them.
Pierce laughs. “It's true.”
“My dad says working is the only way to build character,” Nate reports quietly.
“Oh,” I say, blushing as I push my way through the swinging door into the kitchen. I place the china carefully next to the sink and lean onto the counter. God, I feel like I can't say anything right around Nate. My mind freezes up while my body is set on fire.
“So, are you dating anyone at school, Brynn?” Pierce asks. Damn him.
“Not right now,” I reply, sitting back down.
“Who were you dating? Maybe I know him,” Nate says, his dark eyes picking up the candlelight in the table's elaborate centerpiece. My mom spent all afternoon on it.
“Probably not,” I say evasively, pasting a polite smile on my face. He really knows how to get under my skin. The truth is, I've never really dated anyone, much as my mom pushes me, and as much as I'm embarrassed by the fact. “Who wants dessert?”
I manage to sidestep any more questioning by bringing out the last course, though now I'm starting to think about the fact that Nate and Dana are probably going to want to go off somewhere after this and have sex. I hope it's not in Nate's room. What if I can hear them through the wall?
My mom insists on clearing the dessert plates, and Nate and Dana stand up. Pierce and Nate start talking quietly, and Dana comes over to me.
“You are so gorgeous.” She offers. “I have to ask: what do you use on your skin?”
“I—what? Um, soap?” Oh man, she really makes it difficult to hate her.
“Soap? Just…soap? Oh my god, I have this whole routine,” she says, laughing at herself.
“Well, thanks. I guess I'll be seeing you around often?” I ask, but she looks surprised. “Because you and Nate are dating.”
“We're not really dating,” she confides to me. “He's not the type, and I gave up hope years ago. But just look at him—can you blame me for coming back?” she says with a grin, then her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh—sorry! I forgot for a second that he's your brother!”