You Before Me (14 page)

Faintly, as I take my next shot, I
wonder if she means that with me as well. “Don't tell my brother
lies, Ryan,” I say as I walk back over to them. “I'm the best
looking man in the family.”

Gramps laughs louder than everyone
else. “If you were, you'd be married by now. You and Owen are the
only ones left who aren't married. Owen's too young, so he doesn't
count.”

“Maybe he wants to play the field,”
Owen says. “Y'all are stuck with one chick for the rest of your
lives. Maybe Gabe doesn't want to settle down yet. I wouldn't.
Although, with the way Ryan looks, it wouldn't be too bad to have
her for the rest of my life.”

“Owen,” I chide in disbelief, but Ryan
laughs.

“Leave him alone, Gabe. That was a
compliment. Suggestive for a sixteen year old, but still. Can you
blame him?”

Before I can answer, Owen bursts,
“You've already slept with her?”

God, what is wrong with him today?
He's acting worse than usual. All eyes are on me, waiting for me to
confirm or deny. Especially my father. He's been quiet, but he's
been listening. Ryan watches me, waiting as well.

“Don't y'all know it's rude to talk
about this in front of Ryan?”

“Better you say it in front of me than
behind my back. Topic doesn't matter,” she inputs.

“Yes, but we're supposed to be
gentlemen.”

Before anything else can be said, my
father clears his throat. “Enough. We're out of ammo and skeets.
Time to pack up. My wife is fixing supper as usual, if y'all want
to head there.”

That's my father's way of testing me.
To see how serious this thing is with Ryan and if I'm ready for her
to meet my mother. “We already have plans. Thanks, though.”
Everyone here, regardless of if we have plans or not, knows what it
means for me to decline. Including Ryan. I almost feel guilty, like
I announced, not to just her, but to everyone that she isn't good
enough. It isn't that though. With my mother, I want to be sure
it's something serious before she meets the girl. Her opinion
matters to me and if it isn't serious, there's no point in them
meeting. Yet. Plus, I think Ryan has had enough of my family for
one day.

Ryan is quiet as we all get everything
together. Once that is done, we start saying our goodbyes, Ryan
being polite with everyone. She seems to mean it when she says it
was nice to meet them. With the exception of my father. I honestly
wasn't expecting him to behave as he has, and I'll have to ask him
about that later. Everyone starts getting in their vehicles and
driving away. Ryan is leaning against the passenger door. I walk
over to her.

“You know, you looked really hot
earlier.”

“And I don't now?”

She laughs. “Oh, you most certainly
do. Thanks for today. I had fun, but next time, I think I rather it
just be us the entire time.”

“Okay. We can arrange that. Are you
ready?”

She nods, so I open the door for her.
We're going to make a stop by my place, so I can put the guns away.
I realize that Ryan's never been there before, and I wonder if
she'll like it. We pull into my driveway of my one story brick
home. It's a simple two bedroom house, just big enough for me.
Nothing special about it except it's mine. I ask Ryan to unlock the
door for me as I gather everything. She holds the door open for me,
and I go into the spare bedroom, where I store my guns. I'll have
to clean them later.

I thought Ryan followed me, but when I
turn around, she isn't in the room. Once I put everything safely
back in it's place, I go looking for her. She's in the living room,
running her fingers along the mantel over the fireplace, looking at
the pictures. There are some of me from high school in my football
uniform, some of me with family, and some from when I graduated. I
lean against the frame of the wall and watch her. She picks up one,
the one with my family, and runs her fingers over a
figure.

There's a small smile on her face as
she sets it back, perfectly in place. Ryan turns then, sees me, and
jumps.

“Oh, I, uh, didn't know you were
standing there. You have a nice house.”

“Thank you.”

She seems nervous for some reason. She
clasps her hands in front of her, lightly rocking on her heels. Her
eyes jump from me to down at her hands. “Do you,” she starts, but
stops abruptly. Her hands fidget and as if she realizes she looks
nervous, she yanks them apart, stuffing them into her pockets. “Are
you ready?” She finally asks.

“What were you going to say?” I'm
curious as to what made her anxious.

Ryan narrows those green eyes, folding
her arms over her chest defensively. “Nothing.”

I push off the wall and walk over to
her, resting my hands on her hips. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Why?” My head tilts as I watch her
fight herself over whatever it is.

“Because I changed my
mind.”

“About?”

“If I wanted to tell you, I would have
done that already,” she says exasperated.

“So you want me to take you home now?”
C'mon, Ryan. Tell me what it was. She doesn't say anything right
away, which I take as an opportunity. I swiftly pull her flush
against me, causing her to inhale sharply with surprise. She keeps
her arms crossed over her chest though. With my lips brushing
against hers as I speak, I ask, “Sure you don't want to tell me?
Ask me whatever it was?” My hands move to her lower back and down
over her ass.

Ryan pushes me away, coming out of my
hold. “Don't tease me if you aren't going to go through with it,
Gabe. And we both know that won't happen.” She's hostile towards me
all of a sudden, and I don't understand why. Because last time I
said I wouldn't sleep with her until it was more than just sex? It
does make me feel bad that I tried to seduce it out of
her.

“What's going on, Ryan?” I hesitantly
ask.

She shakes her head. “Just take me
home.”

I would bet a thousand dollars that
she's been thinking, and the girl thinks entirely too much. She's a
rambler, verbally and mentally. Giving up, I hold my hands up in
surrender.

“Let's go then.”

She brushes past me and is out the
door by the time I turn around. What in the world has her mind got
her thinking now? I lock the door and get into the car. Once we're
back on the road, I see Ryan turn towards me from the corner of my
eye.

“You know what? I'll tell
you. Not because you asked, but because I'm not the kind of girl to
get
nervous
over
a
guy
,” she says
it like it's the worst thing in the world. There is conviction and
determination in her voice as she continues. “I refuse to behave
any differently. I was going to ask you if you wanted to spend the
night again, but I changed my mind. You are a good guy with a happy
family, and that's awesome. I'm not that girl though. I want to
have sex on first dates, if I choose. I want to have as much fun as
possible before I finish college and officially have to grow up and
morph into a more suitable person for society. You're wasting your
time, Gabe, and I don't want you to do that.

“And I realize that I sound like a guy
with all the sex talk, and I realize I probably should have more
respect,” she does air quotes, “for myself than to sleep with
whoever I want. It's not about self-respect. It's about me being
able to do anything a guy can do, even if that makes me a slut.
Excuse me for liking sex. I mean, I haven't slept with anyone since
you, and I'm not used to guys turning me down. That's part of my
frustration. My point is that you're a nice, good guy, and it's not
that I don't think I'm not good enough for somebody, because I am,
but we're not a match. Even if you see more to me, I still don't
understand it. Especially if we're not sleeping together. What's
the point?”

Wow. Okay. I repeat what
she said in my mind, trying to process everything because it was
a
lot
. Without
thinking, I ask, “Why are you so insecure about this?”

A glance at her shows me
her wide eyes. I cringe when she responds, her voice too high for
the inside of my car. “Insecure?! You think I'm insecure? I
am
not
insecure.
I am confident with who I am to myself. I like myself just fine,
thank you very much. The problem is that
everyone
else
doesn't
like that person. Not enough
to actually care anyway,” she finishes as I pull into the parking
lot. As soon as I park, she gets out and storms to the
stairs.

“You do realize that means you're
insecure?” I say despite my gut instinct when I reach her as she
unlocks her door.

Her back is rigid, and I've definitely
hit a nerve. I've never seen Ryan so tense. She swings open the
door, sees something inside, her shoulders dropping. “Oh, for
fuck's sake. What are you doing here? How did you get
inside?”

I peek around her shoulders to see an
older woman with similar features.

“Your father and I pay for this place.
Did you honestly think we wouldn't have a key? And watch your
mouth, Ryan.” Her mother smiles upon seeing me and adds, “Who is
this?”

“This is Gabe,” she says reluctantly.
“Why are you here, Mom?” She repeats before anything can be
said.

“Don't be rude, Ryan. Introduce me to
your boyfriend.”

Ryan steps inside, angrily tossing her
house keys onto the table. “He's not my boyfriend, Mom. I'm too
un-ladylike for a boyfriend, remember?”

Her mother ignores her and walks over
to me, shaking my hand. “I'm Mrs. Kavanaugh, Ryan's mother. It's
nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. I'll catch
you later, Ryan?”

“Oh, no. Come on in.”

“No!” Ryan yells, swiveling to face
us. “Don't subject him to whatever it is you're here
for.”

“I insist,” Mrs. Kavanaugh says,
tugging me inside. “I won't be here long.” Speaking to Ryan, she
continues, “You weren't answering my phone calls, and I was nearby
for business, so I figured I would come see you.”

I'm forced to sit on the couch as Ryan
paces, upset. “What the hell do you want, Mom?”

“Ryan,” she chides calmly,
sitting down in the chair. “Language. I don't know why you're so
upset. You should control your emotions better, dear.”
This is so awkward.
“I'm
here to check on your progress with choosing a major. I hope you've
made a decision that we can be happy with.” Them? What do they have
to do with Ryan's future career?

Ryan hasn't relaxed in the least.
“French. I want to major in French.”

Mrs. Kavanaugh's lips dip into a
frown. “French? Why on earth would you want to do that?”

Ryan throws her hands up. “I just do!
Why? What's wrong with that decision?”

“We were expecting better,” is all she
says.

A harsh laugh falls from Ryan's mouth.
“Better? You always want something better from me, but it's never
good enough. What degree do you want me to have? Tell me! You
decide! Because I'm too fucking incompetent to make that measly
decision.”

“You are not a boy, so quit talking
with such vulgarity.”

“You don't need to remind me, Mom,”
Ryan cuts her off.

The tension is so thick in here
between them, that I'm almost choking on it. Nothing seems to
affect her mother, though. She's just as poised as ever.

“All I'm saying is that you could at
least behave as a lady. You seem so stressed, dear. Are you sure
you want to stay here? You can drop out and come home if it's too
much. We would understand if it's like everything else you do and
you just can't commit to it.”

What? She's encouraging Ryan to drop
out of college?

“That would certainly
please Dad, wouldn't it? Is there a particular date he has written
down for when he thinks I'll fail at college too? I guess my 4.0
GPA means shit to y'all. College isn't stressing me out.
You
showing up here is
stressing me out.
You
making Gabe sit here is stressing me out. Do I not stress out
properly, Mom? Should I sit down, cross my legs, and act as if I'm
not fucking stressed?” Ryan takes a deep breath, obviously trying
to calm herself down. “Why don't you just leave, talk with Dad,
pick a degree
you
would be happy with, and let me know. By phone.”

“Ryan,” her mother starts in what
she's attempting to be a soothing voice.

“Stop talking to me like I don't have
any sense!”

Mrs. Kavanaugh abruptly
stands. “Enough, Ryan. Your outbursts are uncalled for. Is this
what college has done to you? Are we paying for this?” She motions
her hand, up and down at Ryan. “You come out here to tarnish your
body with those god-awful, ridiculous tattoos. You waste money on
clothes for parties. Based on the timestamp of charges on the
credit card bill, you're out at all hours of the night. And now
you're dating an older man,” she flings her arm out to point at me,
“and you pick a major in
French
? We had to force you to learn
Spanish! What makes you think you want to learn and speak French?
Pick something more respectable. At least appreciate all the money
your father and I spend, so you don't have to work and go to
college.” Her voice turns deadly serious. “Do something worthwhile
for a change, Ryan.”