The Right Move: Chapter 10

The bartender slides me a gin and tonic as I scan the room for Ryan or Stevie or Zanders or Rio. Or just about anyone really. I like company, crave connection. I truly am a social butterfly, but that’s mostly because I’ve never been on my own and at twenty-seven, I’m afraid to learn that I don’t know how.

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan walk by, offering a wave and I hope they don’t find Ryan’s absence suspicious.

If I were either of them, I’d call us out on his pathetic display of a fake relationship. Ryan was so awkward with me. His big moment of PDA was essentially a high five to my upper arm. What the hell was that?

If the beginning of the evening was any indication, I thought we were going to crush it. When I stepped out of my room, Ryan’s eyes hooded, his lips parted. He spoke softly, intimately as I fixed his tie that was perfectly straight before I had ever pretended it wasn’t.

In that moment, he looked like he wanted me, but his acting fell by the wayside as soon as we stepped out of the car.

I, on the other hand, felt far too natural holding his hand, leaning into his chest. I’m praying the show I put on was as convincing for Ryan as it was for his GM.

Because the truth is, I liked it.

It’s a frustrating awareness to have when I realize how disloyal I feel. I loved Alex my entire life, and now for the first time ever, I’m enjoying the company of another man. Alex can fuck someone else and yet, here I am, still so loyal to that relationship and the love I had for him, that a pang of guilt flashes through me simply from enjoying another man’s company.

“There she is,” Stevie says, sliding into the space beside me, leaning her elbows back on the bar.

And just then, I find her twin across the room as he interacts with a few older men who are nothing short of enthralled by him. He stands straight, shoulders back and tight, nodding along with whatever they’re saying. Their basketball icon is here tonight, professional and on edge.

“Daily update for you, Vee.”

“No thank you.”

“Your brother is hot as hell, and I’d happily let him bend me over this bar top.” I pull my drink to my lips, keeping my attention on him.

“Could’ve easily gone through my night without hearing that.”

“Has he always been this uptight or is it new since I’ve been around?”

“Don’t take it personally. He’s been this way since he got drafted, but I hadn’t noticed how bad it had gotten until I moved here last year and saw it firsthand.”

Two ocean eyes break away from the small group crowding the superstar and find me across the room, pinning me with a breath-taking stare. Ryan may be stiff and uncomfortable, but that man in a suit is any girl’s fantasy. He’s stunning and causes a blush to creep up my cheeks when his lips tilt in a small smile before returning his attention to the crowd in front of him, as if he simply needed to check on my whereabouts before continuing with his evening.

That Ryan Shay smile almost means more because I don’t see it often, and I may be fantasizing about the man every free moment of the day, but no one else needs to know that.

In my periphery, I watch Stevie’s attention bounce from her brother to me and back again.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

I turn to face her. “What do you mean?”

“Faking it while also living together. It seems messy.”

“Well, we both know how much Ryan hates a mess,” I tease.

Stevie turns back to face the bar and I join her.

“To answer your question,” she continues. “He’s not uptight per se, but he is aware of the countless eyes watching him, waiting for him to mess up. Ryan doesn’t show his emotions very often because it’s safe for him. It’s safe for his brand.”

I can’t imagine that, altering your life, holding back to appease everyone around you. Not too enthused, but not too solemn either. Not too stoic, but not too animated. What a terrible way to go through life.

Maybe tone it down tonight, Indy. These guys, they don’t like loud women.

These are my coworkers, so sit back and let me do the talking.

You look gorgeous, Indy. All you need to be tonight is pretty.

Alex’s previous words ring in my mind, so maybe I can imagine that.

The bartender interrupts us with a fresh beer in his hand, sliding it across the counter. “This one is on me,” he says to Stevie, with a grin that can only be described as “panty-melting.”

A tattooed hand slides around Stevie’s waist from behind. “Absolutely not.” Zanders’ venomous glare is focused on the soon-to-be dead bartender. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

The bartender’s face pales. “Sorry, man.” He holds up his hands in surrender before taking off to serve another patron.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Zanders keeps his attention on his back before leaning down and dotting kisses down Stevie’s neck. “I can’t take you anywhere,” he murmurs against her skin.

“Ind, you look great.” Zanders turns my way. “This is fun, having you at events with us and not just on the airplane.”

“Well, take a good look. It might be your one and only shot.”

“No way. Your pretend relationship is already on the rocks?” Zanders’ phone dings and he pulls it out while continuing our conversation.

The statement catches me slightly off guard. Of course, Stevie told Zanders that her brother and I are faking it, but I hope it’s not much more than our small circle who knows. The less people who are aware, the safer our lie is.

“Your guy has practically ignored me since we talked to his boss. I could make another one of these athletes my real boyfriend and I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t even notice.”

“I’m pretty sure he’d notice.” Zanders’ chest bubbles with an arrogant laugh while holding his phone out to me.

Finding him again, his back is to me as he chats with more fans, and I wouldn’t believe he sent that text unless I saw it with my own two eyes.

“Indigo!” Rio exclaims, holding me out at arm’s length. “You look so…”

I don’t fill in the blank for him. Instead, I give him a moment to choose his descriptive word. Rio is lovable, excitable, and young, but he needs a little coaching when it comes to his approach with women, and we’ve been working on it.

“Bang…” He catches Zanders’ raised brow. “eautiful.”

“Bangeutiful?” I ask.

“Beautiful. You look beautiful, Indy.” He turns towards my friend. “Now, Stevie, you look smoking hot. I’m talking drop-dead gorgeous. Every guy in here is probably thinking about—”

I slap a palm over his mouth, trying not to laugh. “You’ve got a death wish,” I inform him as Zanders arches a challenging brow in his over-confident way.

Rio’s green eyes shine with mischief because he’s a bit of a shit disturber, though always in good fun. He enjoys getting under his teammates’ skin and Stevie is the easiest way to do it.

“Kidding. Kidding. But this blue dress does look great on you, Stevie.”

“Thanks, Rio,” she laughs.

Zanders wraps two possessive arms around her. “Yeah,” he mumbles under his breath. “And it’s going to look even better on my bedroom floor tonight.”

“Rio, come on. Let’s go dance before the Raptors lose two of their best players tonight. One to murder and the other to a prison sentence.”

Rio and I take the crowded dance floor. With a small pull of his wrist, he brings me into his chest where I place a hand on his shoulder. He’s different on the dance floor. He leads with grace and confidence, completely opposite in his approach with women.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

“Six years of ballroom lessons. I was a terrible skater when I was a kid, believe it or not. I had two left feet, so my mother put me in dance lessons to learn balance. I was the best skater on my team a year later.”

“And yet, you kept dancing for five more years?”

He pushes me out, spinning me with complete control. “Do you know what the girl to guy ratio was in my dance class? I had numbers on my side.”

As usual, Rio makes me laugh.

“That,” he continues. “And I may have enjoyed it.”

I cock my head with a thoughtful smile. “Regardless that we love to give you a hard time, one day, someone is going to be very lucky to land you.”

That olive skin tints with a shy smile. “Thanks, Ind.”

We stay on the dance floor for two songs, chatting and catching up. I thoroughly enjoyed myself tonight. Even though Ryan is stiff as a board, and probably blew our cover, I had fun seeing my friends outside of work. It was nice to dress up, go out, and socialize.

But as the beginning of song number three begins to fill the space, Rio’s expression drops, that typically goofy smile falling into a flat line.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He swallows, looking over my shoulder as we continue to sway along the dance floor. “I’m pretty sure your fake boyfriend wants to very real kill me.”

I still. “Geez. Does everyone know it’s fake?”

“Stevie told Zanders and Zanders told me because, Indy, I was freaking the fuck out.”

“Rio. You and I, we’re friends. We’ve been over this.”

He scoffs, his head jolting back. “I’m not talking about you. I thought one of my closest friends was dating Ryan Shay. Ryan freaking Shay. You know how I feel about him.”

I roll my eyes before peeking over my shoulder to find Ryan sitting at a table, leaning back in his chair, legs sprawled like a king as he mindlessly sketches the rim of his glass. His stance might seem informal, but his stare is venomous, pointed right at Rio.

“Don’t worry, it’s not you. He didn’t want to stay long, and I think I lost track of time.”

“Indy.” Rio stops moving completely. “I might be inexperienced when it comes to women, but I’m still a man. That right there is jealousy.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Trust me. I know that look.”

“Well, then he’s doing his job. Pretending to be my boyfriend.”

And finally knocking off something from his bucket list. Would’ve been a good night for a slow dance, but I’ll take the jealousy.

“Give the man a fucking Oscar then.” Rio’s eyes continue to flicker to my roommate. “As much as it’d be an absolute honor to be punched in the face by Ryan Shay, I don’t know that a fundraiser is the best place for that.”

“I should get going.” I slide my arms around him in a hug. “I’ll see you on the plane.”

As I make my way to Ryan, he doesn’t look up at me. Instead, his eyes track Rio as my friend leaves the dance floor, and it isn’t until I take the seat directly in front of him, blocking his view, that he breaks his stare.

“Well, hi there.” Ryan’s middle finger traces the edge of his whiskey glass with cool indifference.

“Are you okay?”

I’m acutely aware that my knees are between his sprawled legs as I sit facing him.

“I’m good.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Do you want to stay?”

“You said we were only staying for an hour and a half, and I’m pretty sure it’s been much longer than that.”

“I know what I said, but do you want to stay? Are you having a good time?”

He sits up, bringing his legs in, and trapping my knees between his. The shiny pink satin of my dress contradicts his thick legs in black suit pants, but I won’t lie, I like the juxtaposition.

“I am having a good time.”

“Then we’ll stay.” He takes a small swig of the whiskey in his glass.

His previous hard glare is now soft as he looks at me, and the slight tilt at his lips is a sight I’ll never get sick of.

Without looking away, he lifts his hand to push a few fallen strands of hair behind my ear. The pad of his thumb skims the skin of my throat, gentle and delicate but with all the confidence in the world for a man who has been nothing short of uncomfortable with faking it.

I find myself relaxing into his touch. “What are you doing?” I whisper lazily.

His eyes softly trace my face before he discreetly nods his head to the side. “Pretending.”

Oh.

His GM must be here, watching us.

My roommate stands, slipping out of his suit jacket and slinging it over my shoulders.

“Ryan—”

“Your dress has had its moment. Trust me, no one has kept their eyes off you, but you’re shivering. You’re taking my jacket.”

I’m not shivering because I’m cold.

Regardless, I tug the lapels together, covering me with the jacket’s warmth and Ryan’s scent—crisp and refined.

Ryan retakes his seat, his legs trapping mine once again. “Remind me of that guy’s name.”

I feign innocence. “What guy?”

“You know which guy.”

“Rio? He plays for the Raptors. You’ve met him before.”

“So, you see him every time you’re on the road for work?”

“Yes.”

He nods, those ocean eyes staying calm, cool, collected—a Ryan Shay signature. “Is there something going on between you two?”

“What?” I burst with a laugh. “No.”

He doesn’t respond, waiting for me to elaborate.

“He is a good friend, though.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes, Ryan. Just a friend. What’s with the lineup of questions?”

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. I figured I should know if you’re seeing someone.”

“Well, I’m not. You’re the only man I’m seeing. Pretend or otherwise.”

Ryan’s set shoulders drop slightly, and the movement is so minor that I could’ve imagined it. He nods. No words, simply a head movement to end the conversation.

“Are you sure you’re all right being here, or do you want to go home?”

At that moment, Stevie and Zanders take two more seats at our table, but don’t pay us any attention. Ryan’s change in posture and the ease in his eyes is unmistakable from having his sister around.

“I’m all right. Tonight is kind of fun, actually.”

He leans his elbows on his knees that bracket mine as his fingertips begin to softly dance along the satin of my dress, mindlessly tracing the fabric.

Acting. Fake. Pretend.

“You’re a different guy when your sister is around.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re relaxed because she’s here tonight.”

Ryan looks across the table to where Stevie sits. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“It’s nice to see you like this.”

His fingertips freeze on the satin as he watches me, lips slightly parted. After a moment, he slides his hands, taking up more residency on my legs.

Black suit, a Rolex on his wrist, and those cuff links create a daydream I can’t stop thinking about. I wonder what he looks like peeling off that suit. Does he have a specific place where he likes to store those accessories? Knowing Ryan, yes, of course, but does he organize his things even when there’s a woman waiting for him on his bed?

I think I’d like that view. Watching him slowly peel off every layer with precision while I’m sprawled out on my back.

Clearing my throat and my mind of those daydreams, I whisper, “Can I tell you something kind of ridiculous?”

There’s a tilt of his lips, but he tries to suppress it. “Please do.”

“I know this isn’t real, but this is the first date I’ve been on.”

“You mean since the breakup?”

“No, I mean ever.”

Eyes widen. “How is that possible?”

“Alex and I had just kind of decided we were together one day. There was no first date or any date really. When we went out it was with all our friends. Sure, we lived together, but this is my first proper date, one-on-one. Ironic that it’s fake, huh?”

Ryan’s confused brow softens. “Indy, I wish I had known.”

“Why?” I laugh. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

A moment of silence lingers between us, and I wish I had something to say, something to break the tension and the wave of awkwardness after admitting to my superstar athlete roommate that I’ve never been on a date.

Ryan speaks before I can come up with something. “So, Dartmouth, huh?”

“Yep.”

I find his palms on my thighs, wishing I could put my hand on his, to feel our fingers intertwine as they did earlier tonight, but I don’t want him to stop tracing mindless designs on my legs either.

“Where did you end up going since you didn’t get in?”

“Oh, I got in.”

His head jolts back slightly. “But you didn’t attend?”

Ryan’s hands slide again, his palms now living on my upper thighs with authority. I should look around and find Ron Morgan, reassuring myself this is all an act, but there’s the romantic part of me that wants to continue living in the fantasy, even if it is a lie.

“Alex and all our friends were staying in Chicago, and we weren’t quite together yet, but I knew we would be. He didn’t feel comfortable with us doing long distance.” I laugh without humor. “I should’ve listened to him back then. The second I started traveling for work, he got with someone else.”

Pity covers Ryan’s face. “Blue—”

“Don’t feel bad for me. Yes, I stayed near Chicago to be closer to Alex, but I’m privileged. I still went to a great school, and I still got my MBA. Sure, I don’t use it, but I can’t exactly complain.”

Ryan’s brows find each other, creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say that when Ron brought up Dartmouth? That’s impressive as hell. You’re impressive.”

“Because I’ve learned over the years that sometimes people, especially men, are more intimidated than impressed by intelligence. I was valedictorian of our class, but I wasn’t given a second glance until I grew into my body. Some men don’t want to feel like they have someone to compete with, so I play the game. I’m trying to get your boss to like me, not feel like I’m overstepping.”

I’m good at reading people. I know how to make them feel comfortable around me. I know how to adjust who I am depending on the person I’m with. As much as I love people, sometimes they suck and what makes them comfortable is for you to appear to be inferior.

I did it plenty in my last relationship.

“Indy—”

“Please, Ryan, don’t say anything. I know everything you’re thinking right now.”

“No. That’s not how this is going to go. When you’re with me, I want you exactly as you are. That includes letting people know just how fucking smart you are. You’re not going to cater to anyone’s toxic masculinity bullshit. You’re not going to be quiet and appeasing when you’re with me. If Ron, or anyone else for that matter, has an issue with you being smarter than him, then we’re going to have a far bigger problem than him thinking I’m not a good leader.”

“Ryan, it’s fine. I’ve done it for years.”

“Yeah, that’s another thing. How fucking small was Alex’s dick that he let you do this? Or should I say, asked you to do this. That shit is manipulative and controlling because, let me guess, he didn’t like that you were smarter than him, possibly more successful. Did he ask you to tone it down in front of his friends? Did he want you to stay quiet and look pretty so his colleagues wouldn’t think less of him?”

What the hell? There’s a strong prick in my eyes, a quick burn of my nose because Ryan is right. He’s never met him, and yet, he knows everything I tried to ignore.

“Don’t.” Ryan sits forward. “Don’t you dare cry.”

I suck in a breath, shaking my head and stopping any emotions before they really start. “Sorry. We’re at your work event.”

“Indy.” Both his large hands cup my face. “I don’t give a fuck where we are. You could cry all you want at this fundraiser. You could scream, laugh, throw a temper tantrum in front of these people for all I care. I don’t give a fuck, but you’re not crying over him, here or anywhere else.”

He needs to stop. He can’t be demanding and caring in the sexiest way while he’s wearing that suit. He should know by now that I’m a romantic and I’ll end up kissing him for it or something stupid like that.

And as much as I’ve fantasized about the way his mouth would feel against mine, how soft and pliable his lips would be, we’re putting on a show. I can’t forget what this is and confuse my idealistic heart.

This isn’t one of my romance books. This isn’t a fairy tale. And even if it were, I’d be the worst main character because I am nowhere near able to feel anything other than broken even for this man who is sexy and controlling in his own way.

“Ryan,” I say, breaking the spell I wish I could allow myself to fall under.

“Hmm?”

“You’re really good at pretending when no one else is around. Now we need to work on it for when we have an audience.”

Ryan sits back in his chair, creating a needed distance between us. “Right,” he says before finishing off his whiskey. “I’ll work on it.”