Motion (Page 15)

But my ingrained undercurrent of discomfort in most social situations also carried over to my area of study. It made me a meticulous researcher. It meant I checked and double-checked and triple-checked. It meant I was always certain before I challenged others, which meant I was always right, which had led to my reputation of being credible, listened to, and taken seriously.

Funny how the very weaknesses that cripple us in some situations are often the foundation for our greatest achievements.

“I am about to go swimming, but first I need to get goggles,” I whispered in answer to her objection. “By the way, how did you get in?”

“I have the gate code, and I ran past Abram when he opened the door.” She waved this away like it was a minor thing. “You can’t go swimming. You can’t get your hair wet. I had to call in two favors to get you the blowout yesterday with George on such short notice. This hair has to last you for the next week.”

“Would it really be a big deal if I wore my hair in a ponytail or a braid?” I split my attention between her and the bathrobe I’d placed on the chair.

“Yes. It would be a big deal. All the pictures in the house are of Mona with her hair back and Lisa with her hair down. What- what are you doing?” She followed my line of sight to where the bathrobe lay. “No, no. Do not put it on. Lisa would not cover herself. Do not put that bathrobe on.”

Releasing a hissing breath between my teeth, I glared at my sister’s friend, feeling increasingly antsy the closer Abram came. “Me putting a bathrobe on is not going to be a red flag for Abram.”

“Yes. It will.” An odd kind of urgency entered her voice. “The only time Abram and Lisa met, she was naked, okay? You covering up now would be weird.”

What? Naked? What? I sputtered, my mouth opening and closing.

Giving me no time to recover, Gabby pasted a smile on her face, glanced over her shoulder again, laughed a fake laugh that sounded real, and turned back to me just as her expression switched to stern. “Act like a hot girl who is proud of her hotness, he’s coming!”

6

Acceleration

“What do you mean she was naked?” I whisper-hissed.

“Shut up.”

“Gabby—”

She didn’t respond, instead looping her arm through mine and turning to face an approaching Abram. I flinched automatically and moved to withdraw. Gabby countered quickly, holding my arm in a tighter grip. My only excuse for not tempering my pulling-away instinct was that I remained stunned by her latest revelation. Indeed, my mind was still running through possible scenarios which might explain why Lisa would need to be naked in front of someone she didn’t know.

Perhaps she’d stepped in an ant pile and they’d crawled under her clothes and she’d needed to rip them off? Or someone poured anthrax down the back of her shirt? Or . . . what the heck?

I was so entirely in my own head that it took me a few moments to realize that Abram and Gabby were speaking.

“I found her. You can go away Abram unless you’re planning to join us by the pool.” Gabby’s tone was light and playful.

“You’re not staying.” His voice was like granite.

Distractedly, I glanced at Abram, found him examining me with wary eyes, like he half expected me to pounce on him. He was also a good ten feet away, pointedly keeping his distance. Even so, his gaze did move over me—legs, hips, stomach, and so forth—with the scarcest visible glimmer of appreciation, giving me the impression he was irritated with himself for noticing at all.

I had to wrestle with the impulse to step fully behind Gabby or otherwise use her to block myself from view.

“I can’t stay long, I have to be somewhere,” Gabby said, obviously pretending to misinterpret his meaning. “But if you put on a bathing suit, I’ll cancel my other plans.”

Abram crossed his arms, his wary gaze returning to mine. It seemed to soften. Or . . . maybe it didn’t? Or maybe some plotting, rebellious part of me wanted irrelevantly attractive Abram to look at me differently than he looked at Gabby?

Yes. That’s probably it. It’s all in my imagination.

But then he asked “Lisa, are you going swimming?” and the tone he used was undeniably softer than the one he’d used with Gabby.

Oh.

So I croaked “Yes” and hated that the majority of my insides melted at the irrefutable evidence: Abram’s expression and voice had gentled as he addressed me. Fact.

Gabby squeezed my arm.

I quickly put an end to the internal organ melting and came back to myself, adding firmly, “Preferably alone. Don’t feel like you need to stay, Gabby.”

She gave me the side-eye and a saccharine sweet smile. “You’re funny. I do have to be someplace, but we have so much to talk about. I wouldn’t think of leaving quite yet. Plus, I brought you dry shampoo. For your hair. You know you can’t get your hair wet or else Abram will have to take you back to George.”

“Who is George?” Abram took a step forward, glancing between us.

“George is Lisa’s stylist in Chicago. Her stylist in New York is also George, but it’s spelled G-O-R-G,” Gabby answered, like it was the most natural thing in the world for a person to have a stylist with a name pronounced George in every city.

My upbringing meant I hadn’t truly understood until undergrad how unusual it was for a person to have a stylist in every city, or even one in one city. My superstar mother was followed by a beauty and health entourage everywhere she went. When she and my father had taken Leo and I to movie premieres, or award shows, or wherever they’d be photographed with their two prized prodigy pedigrees, her life had been my initial baseline.

I’d spent the last four years readjusting my expectations of normal. Even so, since my Ivy League past and living with Dr. Steward were now my secondary baseline, I knew I was still hugely out of touch about many, many realities of the typical, normal, or average experience.

I didn’t know what I didn’t know, but I was working on it.

Abram lifted an eyebrow at Gabby’s explanation. It looked judgmental. “You can’t do your own hair?”

“Apparently, not in Chicago or New York,” I said dryly, unable to help the note of sarcasm given my level of frustration. I just wanted to go swimming and cool down! Was that too much to ask?

Gabby shot me a dirty look, her elbow digging into my side.

But Abram’s judgy single-eyebrow lift became a double rise of surprise, his gaze moving over me, his mouth curving into another of his reluctant grins.

“Given how much Abram loves your company, I’m sure he won’t have any problem taking you to George to get your hair done.” Gabby met my sarcasm and raised me a dose of mockery.

“Or maybe Abram could just change his name to George?” I appealed to Abram, pulling my arm from her grip.

“Sure. I can do that.” He nodded, surprising me by playing along.

“There we go. I have my George. I can go swimming. Gabby, you can rest easy about my hair. And now you can both leave.”

Gabby’s mouth dropped open, and I could feel the squawking protest building inside her.

But Abram spoke before she had the chance. “Oh no, George can’t leave. George has to go swimming.”

Those statements earned him an intense eye-squint. “Why does George have to go swimming?”

“Don’t you want a George nearby? Just in case there’s a hair emergency?” He was grinning. Apparently he’d decided to stop hiding his smiles, just this once.

“No.” I frowned, confused by the smile he was sending me. “Never mind. You’re Ahab again.”

Abram dropped his chin to his chest and covered his mouth with a hand, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was laughing. The maneuver didn’t work because his shaking shoulders gave him away.

I sensed Gabby glance between the two of us, I also sensed her incredulity, but I didn’t give her any of my direct attention. I was too busy battling warm feelings because Abram was laughing at my Ahab joke, which meant he was laughing with me. Which meant I was melting again.

It felt . . . good.

Eventually, he shrugged, his arms falling to his sides. When he lifted his head, his eyes were glowing, and he’d pressed his lips together as though to erase his grin. It didn’t work, his dimples betrayed him.

“Too bad, Liza. George will be right back.”

Scowling to hide this burgeoning warmth in my stomach and chest, I shouted at his back as he jogged away, “Where are you going?”

He turned and walked backward, looking very pleased. “To change into my swimsuit.”

“Well take your time!” I crossed my arms, raging against some new, hotter emotion I didn’t dare identify.

“I won’t!” he yelled in return, giving us his back again as he climbed the stairs. “See you in a second.”

I grunted, grinding my teeth, and not understanding why I wasn’t more irritated. I should have been. My pool plans had been disrupted. Cooling down while blowing off steam would be impossible with Abram around.

The combination of Gabby’s ill-timed text and his superfluously handsome man parts were responsible for making me hot!

Yeah, but now you’ll see Abram shirtless. Worth it.