“What?” he said. He was looking past me, over my shoulder. “Sorry, I just saw a hella hot guy go by on a bike.”
“Oh yeah?” I turned, but didn’t see anyone.
Riley shook his head. “You just missed him.”
“Figures; I always miss the hot ones.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe. Someone with your looks—I bet the guys are just lining up to meet you. If only I had such problems.”
“Yeah right. That’s a nice thought. When it comes to guys, I have had pathetically little experience.” I thought about Graham and the mixed messages I was getting from him. “In fact, it seems that I actually sort of repel guys.”
“Oh my God, you are so full of it. Stop fishing for compliments!” Riley shook his head, giving me a quizzical look.
I laughed. “I’m not, I swear! I actually was hanging out with this guy that I might kind of like—even though we don’t really know each other—and at first I thought he might feel the same way, but then ... I don’t know. There was this perfect moment for him to kiss me and he didn’t.”
“Maybe you intimidate him.”
“No way,” I said. “If you saw him, you’d understand. It was like, everything was going great until the very end, and then it suddenly felt like he couldn’t be away from me fast enough. And then the next day we ended up going to the beach with a friend of mine, and we all had a great time, but it was more like we were just this group of friends. I guess I’m just not good at this dating thing. I mean, it’s not even dating, it’s ... I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s all one big mind-fuck,” Riley said. “Every single bit of it. Like our parents trying to set us up like this. But I am so glad to have met you! The last girl my mother made me go on a date with took it all personally when I told her I was gay, like it was some sort of reflection of herself! I’m so glad you’re not like that. And where the hell is our waiter? We’ve been here forever! We should just go get ice cream somewhere. Want to do that?”
“That sounds great,” I said. “My mom will be so thrilled to hear how much fun we had going out together!”
Chapter Thirteen
Graham
I knew it was Chloe before it registered that she was at a notoriously romantic restaurant with some guy I’d never seen before. They were sitting at one of the outside tables and she was actually facing my direction as I approached, but I was on the other side of the street and she was clearly very caught up in whatever it was she was saying to that guy.
I slowed a bit as I went by, and the guy actually turned to stretch and caught my eye. It might’ve been a good opportunity for a stare down, except in this part of town, you actually had to have your eyes in front all of the time, or you’d end up gettin
g doored or, at best, running over some hapless tourist.
So, she had a boyfriend. Big fucking deal. It’s not like I was expecting to be her boyfriend. I even thought about going over and just saying what’s up, which, if anything, would show that I was completely unbothered by the fact that she was out to dinner with whoever that guy was. But, I decided not to, and I kept riding. My plan had been to just ride the mile and a half back home, but I took a detour and went for another six miles. I pushed myself hard, even though I’d already been pushing it—the last thing I wanted was to have to think about Chloe out with another guy.
Chapter Fourteen
Chloe
At breakfast that morning, my father drank his coffee and cleared his throat several times before asking me what sort of person I hoped to come across as.
“Huh?” I said. My brain still felt clouded with sleep and it seemed way too early to have this sort of conversation. Plus, it had turned incredibly humid overnight and everything had a heavy, sticky feel to it. The sort of weather you just wanted to sleep right through.
He put his coffee mug down. “There is something to be said for not caring what people think about you. Or caring too much, rather. But I’d like you to tell me how it is you hope to come across to people. Do you want people to take you seriously? Do you want to be a respectable person?” He looked pointedly at my tattoo. “The choices you make now are going to have ramifications later in life. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, Dad.”
“And you might decide that you don’t want to be this artistic, free-spirited person. You might realize that you’d actually like to have a career, and I would hate to see you do anything to jeopardize that.”
“I’m not trying to jeopardize anything,” I said.
“I’m glad to hear that. Though I’d have to say, your actions are suggesting otherwise.”
He gave me a stern look. In the past, such a look would have made me start to quake in my boots a little, but now it just made me angry. “You and Mom are acting like I’ve done something awful!” I said, my voice rising with each word. Part of me felt as shocked as my father looked; I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d talked back to my parents. But now that I had started, I didn’t want to stop. “I got one tattoo. A tiny tattoo. That I can easily hide. So if I were to go get that job in finance that you so clearly want me to have, all I’d need to do is wear long sleeves. Problem solved. Except I’m not getting a job in finance.”
My father took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. He looked at me much in the same way I imagined he looked at the underlings who worked in his office when they’d done something they shouldn’t have.
“What’s going on with you, Chloe?” he said. “Your mother and I both can’t help but feel as though you’re treating us with an attitude that’s ... not like you.”