The Risks We Take Page 11

  I hold my breath, trying to relax, but my mind wanders into the realm of possibilities that it should not be exploring with Ian.

  “I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” Abby says slowly, looking between us.

  Ian just smiles. “We’re keeping it on the downlow. Paparazzi and all that get annoying when they want the buzz. You understand how annoying it can be, I’m sure.”

  She tilts her head. “Not really.”

  He chuckles. “Anyway,” he eases along, “we figured we’d do some shopping and then try enjoying the nice weather we’re having.”

  Abby stares between us, her mind wrapping around the string of lies that Ian feeds her, and then finishes scanning the items.

  Once Ian pays, we grab our bags and walk out. Ian is insistent on putting an arm over my shoulders until we’re out of view.

  As soon as the cashier can no longer see us, I pull away. The tingling is still radiating in my body despite how much I want it to go away. “What was that?”

  “She looked like she wanted to eat me.” He shudders.

  “So you thought pretending I’m your girlfriend would dispel that?”

  He shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  I grumble to myself as I walk to my car.

  “It’s not a big deal,” he assures me. “She’ll tell her little friends she saw me, and that’s it.”

  “She’s a teenager. She’ll gossip about your new girlfriend. One, that may I point out, lives in the same town as her. It’s a small area, Ian! If people hear about this, then shit will hit the fan.”

  “You act like dating me would be awful.” The hurt I hear in his tone makes me want to take it back, but I don’t know how.

  “What comes with it would be a distraction,” I counter, my voice soft.

  He contemplates it. “I guess.”

  I sort through the items that are mine.

  “Let’s just do lunch in an hour, okay? I want to get home before a bunch of screaming girls come here.”

  He laughs. “Jealous?”

  I glare at him, the guilt for making him feel bad now gone. “You wish.”

  He smirks. “You have no idea, Kay.”

  After putting away my groceries, and having a fifteen-minute debate with myself about whether or not I should actually go out to lunch with Ian, the knock at the door chooses for me. Not having time to pretend I’m not home, or worry about what I must look like in my shorts and oversized sweatshirt, I open the door.

  Still, I’ve had plenty of time to realize that lunch and ice cream have too many expectations tied to them. Plus, that means small talk for two meals. If you can consider ice cream a meal, which I do with how much I eat of it.

  Before he can say anything, I blurt, “I think we should just do ice cream.”

  His hand is still up in the air in knocking position. His lips parted and head cocked, he asks, “And why is that?”

  “I’m just not that hungry,” I lie, although wincing probably gave me away.

  He snorts. “Yeah, okay. You’re forgetting I know you. Including how much you can eat. So tell me the real reason.”

  I press my lips together.

  “Fine,” he relents. “I’ll guess then. You’re afraid to spend time with me.”

  “Afraid?” I scoff. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “I …” My shoulders sag. “I’m just busy, and ice cream wouldn’t take a lot of time to consume, so I’ll be back sooner.”

  “In other words, you don’t want to spend a lot of time with me. Because you’re afraid.”

  “I’m not—”

  He eyes me. “Don’t lie to me, Kasey. We never used to lie to each other.”

  “I’m not lying. Maybe I’m just not interested in talking today … with you.”

  “Because …” he presses.

  “Because there’s no point in it.”

  He leans his shoulder against the doorjamb. “There’s no point, huh? So you don’t want to catch up? Get to know me? Figure out that we can still be friends?”

  “I think that being friends would be complicated because you’re leaving anyway.”

  He sighs as if to say, ‘Not this again.’

  “We’re just talking, Kasey. I’m not asking you to marry me and have my surely talented babies. I’m not asking you to drop everything you’re doing and follow me on the road. I just want to talk. To hear what you’ve been up to. Listen to embarrassing stories, and in turn, will tell equally embarrassing stories. I have plenty, I promise.”

  I contemplate what he says. Sighing, I know he’s right. I’m putting too much thought into this whole thing, but it’s what I do best.

  “Fine. But we’re just eating ice cream, and I’m paying.”

  He moves out of my way, and gestures for me to walk out.

  Pop’s Place is a small ice cream store that’s only open seasonally. George Asher, or Pop as most people know him, has owned it for almost thirty years.

  “Kasey Miller,” he greets, kissing me on the cheek when I step up to the window.

  “Hey, Pop.”

  “Haven’t seen you around,” he states. “Thought maybe you were getting your ice cream elsewhere.”

  “There’s no better place to get it than here. I’ve just been busy.”

  He gives me a knowing smile, sadness seeping into his eyes. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, paired with that smile, tells me he feels bad.

  “I'm sorry to hear about your Mom, kiddo.”

  My lips twitch at the apology. Aren’t they all?

  I force a smile. “Life goes on. I’m doing just fine on my own. Still have my favorite kind here?”

  Luckily, he doesn’t push the subject change.

  “For you, always.”

  He looks at Ian. “Figured you’d return. Should thank you for bringing back my favorite customer.”

  “And here I thought I was your favorite.”

  Pop grins. “I always favor the pretty ones. Sorry, kid, but you don’t do it for me.”

  I laugh and take the blizzard Pop hands me.

  “You’re too sweet, Pop.”

  He winks at me. “I say it how it is.”

  Ian orders his dessert, but before I can pay for it, he hands Pop a twenty.

  “Hey! I told you I’m paying.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t let women pay if I can help it.”

  There’s a hooker joke waiting to be made, but I bite my tongue.

  “But you paid for my groceries,” I finally remind him. “We had a deal.”

  “You bought like five things.”

  “I can afford my own groceries!”

  He rolls his eyes. “I never said you couldn’t, Kasey. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

  “If this is some ploy to make me like you, then you’re shit outta luck, buddy. I can’t be bought. I’ve got more dignity than that.”

  He sighs heavily. “Saying thank you is hard for you, huh?”

  I don’t answer.

  “I’m not trying to buy your respect. My charm and good looks will make you like me all on their own.”

  Pop laughs. “You sure about that?”

  “How can Kasey hate this face?”

  I snort. “You’re ridiculous. I can see your head growing from here. It’s huge.”

  He leans into me. “That’s not the only thing, sweetheart.”

  My eyes widen, face warm. “Gross!”

  “Can’t say a woman has ever said it’s gross before. In fact, most women quite like it.”

  Pop passes Ian his sundae. “Watch it, boy. If she doesn’t kick your ass, I will.”

  Ian sighs. “Not needed. I’m just teasing her.”

  “Annoying me is more like it,” I mutter.

  We walk over to the picnic table and sit down.

  “How’s your ice cream?” he asks.

  “You know … cold.”

  “That’s good,” he muses.

  I nod.
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  We eat in silence for a while.

  “Pop hasn’t changed much, has he?”

  “Nah, he’s the same.”

  “He reminds me of a guy back home. His name is Marty. He’s a bartender who gave me and my buddies some good opportunities that led to the band’s success. He’s protective of everyone.”

  I find myself smiling. “That’s nice that he helped you guys.”

  He nods, scooping out more ice cream. “I don’t think we’d be where we are if it weren’t for him.”

  I stare at my ice cream for a long moment. “Then I guess it’s good you have him. That you got to do what you wanted.”

  If he hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have gotten the opportunities he did. I envy him for a lot of reasons, but I’m happy for him when it counts.

  I can feel him staring at me.

  “What would you do if you didn’t get to play music?” I find myself asking. I sneak a peek at him. He’s playing with his ice cream, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. Music is everything to me. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.”

  “So you didn’t have any backup plans?”

  He shrugs. “Not really. I mean the band started off doing well early on, and only picked up from there.”

  “But it could have failed.”

  “But it didn't.”

  I go back to eating my dessert.

  “Say what you want to say,” he insists.

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Kay. Your nose scrunches when you hold something back. Just get it off your chest. You might combust if you don’t.”

  I bite down on the inside of my cheek. He won’t understand where I’m coming from if I’m honest. Our lifestyles are too different.

  “Kay,” he says in a low voice.

  “You don’t have a backup plan. You just do whatever you want on a blind hope that it’ll work out. But what if it doesn’t? What if it didn’t? It’s so reckless.”

  He soaks that in for a long minute.

  “Why does it matter?”

  My brows go up. “Seriously? Your life would be totally different if you didn’t have a band.”

  “But it’s not,” he emphasizes. “And I don't stay locked in the what-ifs of the past. The more you think about the what-ifs in life, the more miserable you’ll be. The band is doing great. Sales are great, and I’m happy. That’s what matters. Not the fact that I could have failed.”

  I just stare off in the distance.

  “It’s not worth going over every possible outcome of our lives. It’s a waste of time, really.”

  “Some of us don’t have a choice, Ian.”

  “Everybody has a choice.”

  Those words echo in my head, and I want to believe them.

  “We’re not all as easy off as you.”

  “What’s that have to do with anything?”

  “It has everything to do with everything! You don’t have to think about certain things like the rest of us do. You’re well off because you made something of yourself. You don’t understand what it’s like to have to think about the outcome of things.”

  He puts his spoon down. “I have to think of the outcome of a lot of shit, Kasey. I’m still human.”

  “But not like ... not like me. While you get to make spontaneous choices, I don’t. I have to work. I have to be grounded. Not for me, but for my sister. Everything I do will dictate what her life will be, now more than ever.”

  His lips tip down. “Why now more than ever?”

  I close my eyes, unsure if I want to tell him. It isn’t his burden to bear, it’s mine. My problems shouldn’t have to be anybody else’s.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, and I’m asking you to respect that.”

  He tips his head once. “Okay. So do you like cats?”

  I gape at him in disbelief.

  “Because it’s not that I truly hate them, but they don’t like me. I’m allergic, in fact. Now a dog, that I can do. Dogs are cool, and I don’t seem to swell up when they’re around me.”

  A laugh bursts out of me. “We’re going to talk about pets?”

  “You didn’t want to talk about your thing, so I moved onto mine.”

  I shake my head, but go with it. “And your thing is pets?” I shake my head. “I don’t have any problem with cats, but I’m more of a dog person.”

  “Good. I think we’ll get along just fine.”

  “That’s all it takes to decide we’ll get along?”

  “Well if you told me you were obsessed with cats and I couldn’t be around them, then it wouldn’t end well. Been there, done that. I know this girl, Tessa, back in Clinton who treats her cat like it’s her kid. I’m not exaggerating, she has a Christmas stocking for him.”

  “That’s kind of sweet. Her cat’s part of the family.”

  “She made her boyfriend write a song for it, started an Instagram for it, and even has a Facebook fan page. She’s been talking about starting a blog all about their adventures.”

  I stare at him, not wanting to judge this girl. I don’t know her, so I have no right to. A lot of people love their animals like their children anyway. It’s not too out there …

  He must read my expression. “Don’t feel bad for judging Tessa. She’s judge worthy. Plus, her cat is an asshole.”

  I can tell by the way he talks about her that he likes her.

  “Are you two close?”

  “As much as I wish her cat liked me, we just don’t get along.”

  I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  He smiles, picking up his spoon again. “Tess and I are pretty good friends. Her boyfriend practices with us, and writes for the band.”

  “That sounds nice. That you have friends, I mean.”

  “What about you? Anyone other than Jake that you’re close with?”

  My lips twitch. “Not really. It’s just him and me.”

  He reaches out and nudges my hand with his. “That’s not a bad thing. Smaller circles mean you’re in good company.”

  “It’s a group of two,” I deadpan.

  “And you like him, and trust him.”

  I just nod.

  “How are things going with you two anyway? He seems … nice.”

  The way he struggled for a word makes me giggle. “Jake is nice. He’s more than that.”

  “You really like him, huh?”

  I eat more ice cream instead of answering.

  “You can admit it, you know.”

  “I’m not ... not admitting it.”

  “You’re totally skirting around it,” he accuses.

  “Am not.”

  “Am too!”

  “I’m just not talkative about my personal life.”

  “You mean your love life?”

  My cheeks burn. “I don’t have a love life.”

  He leans in close to me. “That’s your problem then.”

  I can feel his breath on my face, and it makes me shiver involuntarily.

  “My problem?” I repeat quietly.

  “Yes,” he answers. “You’re so stuck in your head, worrying about the what-ifs. I bet you have a pro-con list with everything. You, Kasey, need to loosen up. Have some fun.”

  My mouth goes dry.

  He leans in closer, causing my heart to speed up. Just as I think he’s about to kiss me, my face becomes covered in ice cream.

  My ice cream.

  He laughs at my stricken expression as I watch my deformed cup fall onto the table. Ice cream drips off my nose, and onto the mess in front of me.

  “You did not just do that,” I growl.

  He winks. “I did.”

  I grab a handful of the ice cream and throw it at him. He doesn’t duck in time, and it winds up just missing his eyes and splatters in his hair.

  We have a stare down. My eyes drop to his sundae, and so does his. We bolt for it at the same time, but I get to it first. I scoop out large mixture of ice cr
eam and fudge and flick it at him. It lands all over his lips and nose, causing him to laugh as he runs toward me.

  I try making a break for it, but I don’t run fast enough. He hooks his arms around me to pick me up, spinning us around. I shriek and laugh when he tries taking the bowl from me.

  “Put me down!”

  “Give me the ice cream!” he bargains.

  “No!”

  He tickles my side, the same side he knows is my weakness. It was his way of playing dirty when we were kids.

  I manage to flick more ice cream into his hair, and it falls onto his grey shirt.

  He reaches around me with his freakishly long arm and manages to get a small handful, rubbing into my own hair.

  Breaking free, I bolt again. I sense somebody staring and notice Pop chuckling and shaking his head.

  I circle around the tree every time Ian comes the opposite way.

  “You can’t escape me, Kasey. Give me the ice cream.”

  “You’ll throw it at me,” I accuse.

  He feigns innocence. “Never!”

  I try getting another handful but I didn’t get enough before Ian tackles me to the ground. The ice cream splatters on the ground first, then Ian rolls me over it. I squeak at the wet feeling that soaks my shirt and back, and struggle to roll him over so he can get a taste of his own medicine.

  Before I know it, I get enough leverage to shove him off me and then roll him over. I slip on the sticky grass and fall so our chests collide, my body sprawled over his.

  Our breathing is ragged from running, but as soon as I shift and my body settles onto his, it’s like our breathing becomes rougher for a whole new reason.

  He lets out a low rumble. “If you wanted to be in this position, you should have just asked.”

  I go to move off of him, but he holds me there, causing my heart to lurch in my chest.

  I have no idea why I feel this way toward him—why I react. I shouldn’t. I don’t want to. But I do.

  “Kasey, I …”

  Somehow, our lips move closer together. I can feel his breath against my face, causing my chest to tighten. His hand trails up my sides until they’re gripping my hips. Our lips brush against each other’s lightly before a voice pulls us apart.

  “What are you kids doing?” Pop yells from across the lawn.

  We break apart like two kids caught by our parents. I land on my ass and Ian sits up, rubbing the back of his neck.