Page 31 of You're So Vine
“I can tell you about me and Lee,” I offer before I can have second thoughts. “Just warning you, though, I don’t come out of it looking good.”
That startles her, and I’m suddenly caught in the spotlight of her frank, blue gaze. Her eyes are quite something, bright and clear like a cut gemstone. I recall cringing when my mom gushed over Paul Newman’s blue eyes, but now I see she had a point.
“You said she helped you at a bad time,” Ava says. “That’s enough for me, for now.”
She reaches across me to place her empty water glass on the one bedside shelf. Her arm brushes across my stomach and I feel my abs contract and my cock start to stir. But Ava and I need to get back to a better place emotionally before we start getting physical again.
She’s back to staring at me, a small frown creasing her forehead. Ava has amazing skin as well, pale but perfect, like a Renaissance Madonna. Only without the gold halo. Or the holy infant.
“I’ve never had a really close friend,” she tells me. “When I was growing up, us Durant kids were so busy with sports and studying and, you know, generally striving to be the most high-achieving humans on the face of the planet, that none of us had time for friends.”
She scoots around on the bed so she can sit cross-legged, facing me. It’s hard not to be distracted by her nakedness but Ava is completely unselfconscious. I guess if you’ve been an athlete all your life, you become so in tune with your body that you stop noticing it.
“I mean, sure,” she adds, “we hung out with our schoolmates, but after that we all scattered to the four winds, pursuing our different goals: me to Notre Dame then Kentucky and horses; Nate to Harvard, France, and wine; Danny straight to classic cars in LA; Izzy to MIT and Max to Juilliard. Did I mention we were high achievers? Danny’s probably the most social of all of us, and Izzy and Max have each other, like twins do. Nate and I, though … we were always loners. If we don’t have any close friends, I guess we have no one to blame but ourselves.”
She screws up her mouth.
“I envy you, is what I’m trying to say,” she tells me. “Envy you for having Lee. Envy you and Nate for having Shelby.Iwant to be your best friend as well as your lover, but I guess that position is filled.”
There’s the hint of a question at the end of that sentence. Close as proud Ava will ever get to pleading.
I’m considering how best to answer … too slow, as usual. Ava shivers all over, like a dog shaking off water, and fixes on a smile.
“Besides, you never did answer my earlier question about what you’d normally be doing today,” she says.
My brain cycles backward. “Didn’t I?”
“No, we got distracted by talk of babysitters,” she says with a grin.
“Oh … yeah.”
Water glass is empty. I set it down. Feeling slightly embarrassed about what I’m about to say. Ava’s a skilled and experienced horsewoman, whereas I—
“I volunteer at a riding school for kids with disabilities.”
“Right.” Ava nods. “Shelby mentioned that.”
Of course she did. And people wonder why I keep myself to myself.
“I needed something to take me out of myself, force me to focus on other people,” I say. “Something that gives back to the community.”
“Lee’s idea?”
Ava’s tone is light, but I know what I say next matters.
“Kind of a joint plan. I like kids.”
“And you’re a good rider?”
I knew she’d go there. People assume that because you work with horses, you’re basically a horse whisperer. I know Shelby’s made that assumption. I also know I’ve been too embarrassed to set her right.
“My sister, Blair, is a fine horsewoman,” I tell her. “Me, not so much.”
“How many times have you fallen off?” Ava is grinning.
This is humiliating.
“Think the worst was when Blair gave me a leg up and I tumbled right over the other side.”
