Besides, it’s not like I need to impress him.
And who knows if he’ll even show up.
I was pretty cold to him earlier. I wouldn’t blame him if he decided I’m too much effort and not worth the work.
I unsnap the hair tie from my wrist and pile my hair into a messy bun at the top of my head before taking a seat on one of the dusty sofas and paging through an old issue of People magazine from January 2003. The Olsen twins are on the cover alongside the headline, “World’s Richest Kids,” and I find it ironically fitting.
My mom’s crazy friend always said there was no such thing as coincidences.
The jury’s still out on that for me.
Sometimes I think life is just a jumble of random events and there’s no real path for anyone. Things just … happen. And that’s all there is to it.
The front door swings open when I’m halfway finished reading the Letters to the Editor page of my magazine. I fold it and toss it on the coffee table before resting my elbows on my knees and glancing up at the tall drink of water as he closes the door behind him.
There’s a light in his eyes, a flicker of hope that doesn’t belong.
When I told him we could talk at the cottage, what I didn’t tell him was that I had every intention of calling him out on his playboy ways, confronting him about all the things he’s said and then telling him I saw him and Ashlan together last night, arms around each other as he walked her home. I plan to tell him I’m not stupid and I refuse to fall for that, and then I plan to tell him to back off because he doesn’t have a chance in hell.
Thayer takes a seat in the rocking chair beside the couch, and I clear my throat.
This was so much easier in my head.
Now that he’s here, all I can think about is how gorgeous he looks and how nice he was earlier and I’m suddenly finding the words are stuck in my throat and my palms are clamming up.
Summoning all the strength I have, I clasp my hands together and sit up straight.
“So, just going to put it all out there,” I say.
He nods, leaning forward a little. I have his full attention.
“You say a lot of nice things, Thayer. And you’re hot as hell. And you’re a good kisser. And you claim you like me, which is flattering as hell because you’re … you,” I say. “But I know when something’s too good to be true and—”
He laughs.
Which only infuriates me because I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.
“Too good to be true?” he asks. “Lila, I’ve meant every word I’ve said.”
“See. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” I point at him. “You always say the right thing at the right moment.”
“And that means I’m not being genuine?” He scratches at his right temple, still fighting a smirk. He thinks I’m being cute. “I’m sorry, but your logic doesn’t add up for me.”
“I know your type. That’s how you operate.”
“My type? Now that’s just cruel. I’ve yet to make a single assumption about you or pigeonhole you into some cheesy Californian stereotype.” He stands. “Unlike you, I actually prefer to get to know people before I judge them.”
I stand, though we’re still not eye-to-eye thanks to the fact that he’s easily a good seven or eight inches taller than me.
I try to say something in my defense, until I realize he’s absolutely right.
I’ve judged and stereotyped him and aside from what I already know about him, there’s still so much I don’t know.
But it doesn’t change what I saw last night.
“If you like me so much, why did you hook up with Ashlan last night?” I hate the way I sound. Hate it. But it all just came out like word vomit, sour and hot on my tongue, and there’s no taking it back now.
“What the hell are you talking about?” His brows lift and his upper lip is almost snarling.
“Last night.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I saw the two of you walking back from the bonfire. Your arms were around her and she was all over you. And then you took her to her room.”
“And so then you just assumed we hooked up?”
“I mean … it looked like you two were getting pretty cozy on the walk there.” I shrug. “And you were alone.”
“She was drunk out of her freaking mind. I walked her back because she’d just puked her guts out all over the beach. And I had to put my arm around her because she kept falling,” he says.
I search his eyes, trying to decide if I believe him or if this is just another case of Thayer Ainsworth knowing exactly what to say.