Filed to story: Kissing the Wrong Brother
“Then don’t call me Mr. Walsh. It’s Gary.”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Speaking of my youngest daughter, where is she?” he asks.
Great question.
After setting me up with a beer and introducing me to her parents and a couple family friends, she’s disappeared.
“Actually, for that matter, where’s my other daughter?” Gary asks, taking a long sip of wine. “You’ve met Kylie, right?”
“Yeah. She takes tennis lessons from me.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he says, shaking his head a little and staring at his wine. “Aria said that. Maybe I should slow down on this, huh?”
I shrug and take a sip of beer. Whatever.
I used to be good with parents-better than this. But that was back when I cared.
“We’re so glad to see Aria is getting more active,” he says. “We’ve always been reluctant to push, because, body issues, you know? We’ve read the parenting books. But it’s hard to watch someone with as much energy and vibrancy as Ari shy away from healthy habits.”
Yeah, okay. I’m not having this conversation.
“Can I take over the burgers?” I change the subject.
“Nah, go play,” he says, pouring himself just a bit more wine. “I’ve told some of the other old guys they’ve got ten minutes to get over here and help.”
I start to open my mouth to ask if one of the guys is Tim Carson, but I stop myself just in time with another sip of beer.
My eyes have been scanning the small crowd the entire time I’ve been here, but there’s no sign of him.
It’s just as well.
I’m not ready for that.
After Mr. Walsh jokingly reaffirms that I’m twenty-one and that I’m not driving, he pushes another beer into my hands, which I gladly accept before heading down to the dock.
I should probably look for Aria, but since I’m guessing she’s in animated small talk with one of the half dozen aunts and uncles she introduced me to, I head to the dock instead.
Aria’s twin cousins, Marlie and Molly, or something like that, give me a flirtatious invitation to join them in the hot tub when I pass by. They’re cute and already sporting Aria’s dreaded red, white, and blue bikini. They’re freshmen at UT Dallas, if I’m remembering correctly, and, once upon a time, freshmen sorority twins would have been a jackpot of sorts.
Except … I’m pretty sure these girls know it, and their smug awareness of their appeal strikes me as unappealing and far too easy.
So instead of joining them and their skimpy suits, I continue toward my original destination of the dock.
After three hours in a car with Aria I could use the solitude.
I kick off my flip-flops and lower my feet to the water. I can’t say I’m a big fan of Texas in the summer, but Texas in the summer by a lake?
Not so bad.
The Walshs have neighbors, none so close as to feel crowded, but nearby enough to catch the sounds of happy families, tipsy friends, and the smells of a half dozen BBQs.
For a second, I feel something that might be homesickness.
It reminds me of summers in the Hamptons, back when I’d belonged. Back when it had been my family hosting the barbecues, my friends playing music too loud, laughing too much.
For one brutal moment, the loneliness threatens to surface.
I shove it back, partially because it’s futile, partially because I hear footsteps behind me.
For once, I’m actually eager for the distracting presence that is Aria Walsh.
Hell, I’m even tempted to confide in her. Somehow I suspect that if anyone understands being lonely in a crowd it’s her.
But it’s not Aria who settles beside me on the dock. Not Aria who swings her legs over the side and dangles her feet over the water.
It’s not Aria who sits with a hip touching mine, even though there’s plenty of room on the dock.
It is a bikini-clad Kylie.
Neither of us says anything, but she reaches over and plucks the beer bottle from my hand, tilting it back to her lips. It’s probably supposed to be a sexy, casual move, but there’s something artificial about it, as though she’s hoping someone is watching.
Say, perhaps, her boyfriend?
“Wasn’t expecting my tennis pro to show up at my parents’ lake house,” she says.
“I’m not your tennis pro this weekend,” I say, turning my head just slightly to look at her. “I’m Aria’s friend.”
I can tell by the way her nose scrunches up, just slightly, that she doesn’t like this. She takes another sip of my beer, and this time it’s less contrived. Like she needs it to wash a bad taste out of her mouth.
“She’s lost weight,” Kylie says, handing my beer back and leaning over just slightly to watch her feet swing back and forth over the water.
Her parents had said the same thing-not in Aria’s hearing-but whereas Mr. and Mrs. Walsh had said it with delight, Kylie’s tone is something else entirely. Not quite begrudging, but definitely thoughtful.
“She’s lost a few pounds.” I roll my shoulders and set the beer aside.
Kylie’s nails tap against the wood of the dock. “How many?”
Why does it matter?
I crack my knuckles. “It’s not about the weight loss.”
She gives me an incredulous look, and I don’t think it’s my imagination that she straightens a little to better display the full impact of her slim frame. As Aria promised, Kylie is wearing the red, white, and blue bikini.
And she’s wearing it well.
Her smug smile shows she knows it.
“Aria’s got killer curves, whatever the weight,” I hear myself say.
Kylie’s smile slips.
It’s not that Kylie doesn’t have curves in all the right places; she does. But for some reason I want her to know that some guys might prefer Aria’s hourglass figure.
“You sound like a chick,” she snaps. “What’s next, a girl-power anthem?”
I smile and lift my beer. I’ve been goading her for weeks now, knowing it piques her interest, but today is different.
Today I’m goading her because her tone when she talks about her sister pisses me off.
“Where is Aria?” I ask, very deliberately fueling the fire. “She was supposed to meet me down here.”
“For what?” she asks. “Is this like a friends-with-benefits thing?”
The specification is an insulting one, and I turn to look at her, pinning her with a gaze that’s sharper than before. “How do you know we’re not dating?”
She opens her mouth but clamps it shut again when she sees the expression on my face.
Despite her silence, I think I know full well what she isn’t saying.
It wouldn’t occur to her that I could be interested in Aria for real. I mean, I’m not …
But a big sister should be standing up for her younger sibling, not tearing her down.
I grind my teeth in irritation. I think I’ve known all along that Kylie doesn’t exactly have a heart of gold, and I haven’t given a shit. My thing with Kylie is purely about the challenge.
And yet, looking at her perfect features, I’m suddenly having a hell of a time remembering why I found her attractive in the first place.
My need to defend Aria is fierce and uncomfortable, and I’m about to deliberately give Kylie the wrong idea-that I do have a thing for her sister-when I realize the lie won’t help Aria’s cause.
Aria doesn’t care whether I discover Kylie’s true colors; she cares that Ben does.
I take another sip of my increasingly warm beer, and just as I’m firmly ordering myself to stay the fuck out of this stupid melodrama, I remember the carrot I dangled in front of Aria earlier.
Her wearing that ridiculously tiny swimsuit tomorrow in exchange for my help with Ben.
I still don’t know why I offered, but what the hell … might as well get a head start.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask Kylie.
