Chapter 26 – ryan
RYAN
Ryan
So you’re ignoring me, huh?
Is it because your date turned out to be a chainsaw-wielding killer clown?
Or worse, one of those guys with a Funko Pop collection?
Igive Pippa a few minutes to text me back and admit I’m right. Ten minutes later, I’m tapping my foot impatiently, waiting for an update. I might have said I was okay with her going on dates, but that doesn’t mean I want her ignoring me.
Ten minutes after that, I’m done being patient.
I want to know exactly who this guy she’s out with is, and all the reasons he’s wrong for her.
My most psychotic option would be to follow her shared location to the restaurant, sneak inside, and watch her like a creep.
Slightly less insane would be to check out Nate’s company website until I figure out which guy Cat would set Pippa up with, then cyberstalk him.
So I think I’m being pretty damn reasonable when I do the normal thing—text my best friend to get nosy about my stepsister’s date.
Ryan
So, how’s that double date going?
Nate, at least, answers more promptly than Pippa.
Nate
I think it’s going really well, actually.
Fuuuuuuuuck.
Ryan
Define “really well”
Like “she’s smiling” well, or “I’m going to have to watch this dude breathe in my apartment later” well?
Nate
The first one, but she seems genuinely into him.
I hate that I let her go on this stupid date. I should have followed my instincts, thrown her over my shoulder and carried her off to bed. No, it shouldn't have even gotten that far. If I were really smart, I would have made it a house rule that Pippa can’t date anyone while she lives here.
When I type out my response to Nate, I hate every fucking word of it.
Ryan
Great. Maybe that means she’ll be out of my place faster.
What a joke. Pippa leaving here is the opposite of what I want. This thing between us feels so good, so natural. Dammit, I want her all to myself. Why can’t I just say that?
My body hums with nervous energy. I drum my hands on the coffee table, trying to get some of it out. When that doesn’t work, I start pacing around the apartment, waiting for an answer from Nate. After my twenty-eighth lap around the living room, I finally get one.
Nate
Pippa’s actually really great, you know. She deserves to find a good guy, so I’m glad she’s hitting it off with Jacob. She seems to like him a lot so far, so maybe it’ll work out.
Jacob. What a stupid, Twilight-ass name. I hate this guy immediately.
Ryan
Jacob?
That’s not a boyfriend name, that’s a background-extra-in-a-YA-adaptation name.
Shit.
I delete the last two messages before Nate can see them and flex my fingers to stop them wanting to type out something even worse.
Nate
According to Cat, Pippa’s always had shit luck dating. All these guys used her instead of treating her like she should’ve been treated. I don’t get it.
The more I get to know Pippa, the more I get why Cat loves her so much. She jokes about being a “practice girlfriend” for guys before they really settle down, but I don’t think it’s a joke to her.
Maybe Jacob will make her feel more worthy. I hope he does. He’s a good guy.
Those texts hit me like a kick in the balls. What the hell happened to my grumpy ass best friend?
I don’t need him to tell me Pippa’s great—I knew it before Nate did. Hell, I knew it before Cat did. I only shoved down how I felt for so long because I knew how fucked up it was. She’s my stepsister—pretty much the dictionary definition of unavailable.
From the day I met her, she was too easy to like, with her wit, determination, and secret sexy nerd vibes. Hell, Nate doesn’t know how hard I had to look for reasons not to like her. It’s the only way I kept myself from doing something to give Dad a reason to kick me out of the house.
But I guess I don’t see Pippa as clearly as I thought I did. I bought into her outward confidence, and I didn’t see how much she needed someone to prop her up.
Practice girlfriend. Fuck that. Pippa is straight-up wifey material, and I’m ready to knock out anyone who would make her think otherwise.
I run a hand through my hair and sink back against the couch. As much as I hate it, Nate’s not wrong. Pippa deserves someone who can admit how he feels about her, who can boost her self-esteem and make her feel as confident as she pretends to be.
Someone who doesn’t cover her mouth so he can fuck her in our parents’ house.
Sure, Pippa likes fucking me. Why wouldn’t she? I’ve spent years practicing to be a sex champion. But at the end of the day, it’s just a physical release. It’s nothing close to what she needs, much less what she deserves.
So maybe I’m not the guy for her. Maybe this Jacob guy is exactly what she needs. She might come home from this date feeling so good that she’s ready to cut it off with me.
Fuck. I hang my head in my hands, trying to wrap my head around it. I waited so goddamn long to have Pippa like this, and it could be over so fast. I’m going to have to be the noble guy and let her go, even if I really don’t want to.
Then, tiny points of pressure move across my back. It’s Waffle, walking across my bent back to swipe at my hair with her little paw.
“Hey!” I sit back up, urging her off me. The cat ignores that, instead climbing right on top of my lap. She walks back and forth over my thighs, rubbing her tail and head against me.
“I don’t have any shrimp in my pocket right now,” I warn her.
Waffle rubs her head against my face anyway. I run my hand along her soft fur, feeling the vibrations from her loud purring. I don’t have anything to offer her, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“I guess this is why people keep cats around,” I mutter. “As long as we feed you, we get to know that there’s someone out there who cares if we live or die.”
Waffle settles down into a loaf on my legs and starts making biscuits on my sweatpants. She’s very focused, her green eyes fixed on her own paws. I lean back and watch her.
“He’s right,” I mutter. “Pippa deserves better than me.”
The cat meows. Sounds like an agreement to me. I guess no matter how many shrimp I feed this creature, it’ll still be loyal to Pippa.
I scoff. “Yeah, I know. I’m not her guy. Never could’ve been. But seriously, this guy? That’s who she’s choosing instead?”
Waffle slow blinks at me. I guess that’s cat for “you don’t know anything about him.”
“I know he works with Nate. That means, if things get serious, my place in the friend group is jeopardized. I could lose all of them. You know I can’t have that, right?”
She meows again. It sounds extra judgmental this time.
“I promise, I’ll let Pippa move on. She can date somebody else. Just not this guy. Not Jacob.”
Waffle sighs—I swear, actually sighs—and jumps off me, strolling over to her food bowl.
“Jacob’s a werewolf!” I call after her. “That’s basically a dog! So you should be on my side on this one.”
She ignores me. Whatever. I don’t have time to deal with her doubts. I’ve got enough to do, and it has to get done quickly.
I pull up Pippa’s location and find the name of the restaurant she’s at. Once I’ve got it, I dial Craig’s number. Craig’s a senior engineer at a big power company. He bought into one of my tournaments and came in third. Every now and then, we catch up over a drink.
I’m hoping that drink caché will buy me one big favor.
“Ryan, my man!” Craig booms into the phone. “I was wondering when I’d finally hear from you.”
Shit. Why did Craig think he’d hear from me? “Yeah?”
“It’s getting pretty close to New Year’s. I haven’t gotten the invite for your poker tournament yet.”
I wince. Shit, I didn’t even realize Craig applied to play at that tournament. I guess I was pretty distracted when I decided whose application to accept.
“Yeah. Yeah, man,” I say quickly. “Your invite got mixed up and I wanted to call you in person to let you know that you’re in!”
“Hell, yeah! I knew you wouldn’t let me down, buddy. I didn’t want to bug you at Christmas, though, you know.”
“For sure, for sure. Look, that’s not the only reason I’m calling.” I take a deep breath. “I also was sort of hoping you’d do me a favor.”
“Anything man,” Craig says cheerfully. “Make it quick though, I’m at work.”
Perfect.
“Look, Craig, this is a big ask, but I need you to cut power to a restaurant.”
“Ha. Good one.” I don’t answer right away, and Craig whistles. “Wait. You’re not joking.”
“Uh, no. I’m not.”
“You realize I can’t just take down one restaurant. I’d need to cut power to the whole block, and it’s Christmas. What is this about?”
I rub my temple with my fingers. “I can’t tell you. Look, you’re going to have to trust me. I have a good reason, and nobody’s going to get hurt.”
He sighs. “I don’t know, man. I could get in big trouble if someone found out.”
“I’m sure you can come up with an excuse. Outages happen all the time, right?”
“Especially this time of year, all those extra lights and new toys plugged in…” Craig’s voice trails off. He’s starting to wrap his mind around it. I just need to give him the extra push.
“And look, to show you how much I appreciate it, I’ll stake you into the tournament,” I add. “The full 100k buy-in and everything. I just need to cut the power to that block for, like, twenty minutes.”
…just long enough to ruin the date.
“Okay, fine. What’s the block?" Craig says.
I pump my fist in the air. Total champion.
“Sunnybrook Lane.”
I hear Craig typing over the phone. “Okay…give me a minute and it’s done. But you owe me.”
“Big time,” I assure him. “See you at New Year’s.”
Once I’ve hung up, I wait for the feeling of victory to wash over me.
For the high I always get from being the man on top.
For earning that big fat W.
But it never comes.
Instead, I watch the little blue dot on my phone as it exits the restaurant.
I sink onto the couch, leaning over my knees as the dot hovers on the sidewalk outside.
And feel nothing but guilt.
Ugly, and hollow.