Sweet Like Revenge

27 - Crossing the Floor

"Richie called me," Ryan explained after I had ambushed him with a string of questions that melted together as one. "He said that you were having a few friends over for your birthday. He had no idea that I already knew that, of course. But he thought it'd be nice for me to surprise you."

My lips lifted into a warm smile as I made a mental note to hug my stepdad later.

My best friend grinned nervously. "I hope you don't mind..."

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth as I pushed against his chest. "Mind? Seeing my best friend on my birthday? Of course not!"

"Oh, good." Ryan exhaled loudly before leaning close and lowering his voice to an animated whisper. "Because I am dying to meet these bitches. I feel like I know them, you know?"

I rolled my eyes as I shuffled aside to let him into the hall. But, just as quickly, I felt my arm shoot across the doorframe.

Because I remembered that I already had ushered Ryan into Elle's world.

As Elle's ex-boyfriend.

"You can't," I declared, now blocking my friend's path.

Ryan laughed gently, taking my sudden one-eighty for trademark-Ana sarcasm. When he realized that I was serious, his beaming face fell.

"I don't know how to say this without it sounding awful." I grimaced, shaking my head at the words on my tongue. "But Elle's Ryan is... straight."

Uh-huh, I was right. Saying it out loud like that felt gross.

But Ryan snorted with laughter. "God, Ana. I know. Have a little faith." He motioned to his outfit, a modest combination of black jeans and a white tee shirt. He'd even donned a beanie to hide his candy-floss highlights. "I couldn't look more low-key if I tried. I've even been working on my straight-guy voice. Which is basically just my voice, but douche-ier."

I felt my eyes widen as I groaned internally at the thought. Sure, Ryan had some acting experience. And by acting experience, I mean that he played the Tin Man in our ninth-grade production of The Wizard of Oz. But lying and pretending was already hard enough on my own when I only had myself to manage.

Bringing someone else into the mix seemed risky. It made things so much more complicated.

My best friend sensed my hesitation. "Don't worry, Ana."

My blood ran cold.

"Elle," I shot, panic rising from my stomach to my throat.

Ryan's smile collapsed, and he looked at me with question marks swirling in his round eyes.

"You have to call me 'Elle'," I clarified.

Ryan laughed. "Oh, right. Elle. Sorry—"

"This isn't a joke," I shot again, my voice a low whisper that poured out of me desperately. "This is dangerous. I'm in too deep, I can't mess up now." My eyes pierced into his, the subtext clear. "We can't mess up now."

Ryan cleared his throat and straightened his spine like an arrow. He had shaken the childlike grin off of his lips, but his eyes still gleamed with excitement. "I know, babe. I'm sorry. I get it. Won't happen again."

I wasn't sure if I believed him. Sure, Ryan was my friend, and he loved me like a sister. He would never do anything to intentionally hurt me. But the whole undercover-ops thing was pure fun for him. It was a game, some kind of interactive role-play. It was inconsequential because it wasn't real.