I return to Courtney’s house, finding all the lights on but no sign of her, so I walk down the hall toward her bedroom. I place my ear on the door and hear faint murmurs. Then the door opens, and I fall forward, almost crashing into Ian. “What were you doing?” he asks.
“Me? What were you doing?”
“I was tucking in your drunk friend.” He walks down the hall, enters the family room, and grabs his keys off the coffee table. “So—where were you?”
He chuckles. “So you and Ryan had a nice chat, huh?”
“Well, it would have been nicer if you hadn’t told him about…you know.”
“You said you didn’t care.”
“That’s because I thought he didn’t care.”
“Does he care?”
“Do you really care?”
Ian shakes his head and meanders toward the front door.
“Listen, you’ll probably hear this from Ryan,” I begin, “but just so you know, he and Doug got in a fight tonight.”
Ian turns. “Ooh, that would explain everything. Doug sauntered through the party, looking like hell, but he didn’t say what happened. Now I know the whole story.” He scrutinizes me. “I’m guessing they were fighting over you.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug innocently. “But Ryan won.”
Ian slips out the front door, and I head into the bedroom. I get ready for bed and then slide under the thin, cotton sheets. I feel giddy, like a kid trying to fall sleep on Christmas Eve. In a matter of hours, I will be kissing the real Ryan, but for now, I can spend the night, doing whatever I want with my fantasy version.