THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED BY.

Valeria "Ria" Lerolan. XXI. Yale Business.

[ofsilverspoons-blog]

His grades, in some two odd decades, had never been a problem. Schoolwork had come easily to a lazy tech prodigy such as himself, and where his sister had taken whole summers to build projects, Mason had been known to finish an summer semester’s coursework in three weeks. He could have have finished all of his trig homework in a week, maybe, but fourteen year olds had lives to tend to as well, didn’t they? 

The first returned exam in an intensive math course had come as a surprise to him, and Mason had done nothing since receiving it other than sit around being anxious until his professor’s office hours. It had crossed his mind on the walk over that it’d be easier to schedule an appointment, but that would involve waiting. 

Mason Tyros didn’t wait. 

“Excuse me, Professor,” he started, barging into the room. He’d knocked, but he hadn’t waited for a response. Perhaps if he had, he’d have realized someone else was in the room. Perhaps he’d have recognized her. 

As it was, he didn’t, turning to her only for a split second. “This is really important,” Mason said to the girl, not registering her features in the least. “I’m sure you understand.” 

[rialerolan-blog]

She knew that voice; she wouldn't go as far as saying that she'd know it anywhere, but only a few weeks had passed since Graham's homecoming party, and Mason's — she hadn't even gotten his last name — voice was still fresh enough in her memory to recognize. Anger, an emotion that she'd learned to save for a rainy day, flared up in her chest, but the presence of the man sitting across from her compelled her to bite her tongue.

Oh, but when it rains, it POURS.

"Mr. Tyros —" There it was. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to see me another time. Miss Lerolan made an appointment." The professor directed his gaze at her just then, brows furrowed in what she could only assume was mild frustration. "My apologies, Valeria."

"I understand completely," Ria said sweetly, a saccharine smile toying with the corners of her lips; though she was speaking to her professor, her light eyes were fixed on the blond man who — at present — towered over her (he was cocky enough to intrude, but not quite enough to take a seat). "Everyone makes mistakes."

[apropergimlet-blog]

People here were maybe more friendly, if only slightly so, than what Gin had initially accounted for. A few different girls had flashed smiles her way during the journey to the buffet, and even some of the real adults, the older ones with the skirt suits and the grey hair and bowties, had done the same. The brunette offering her a plate seemed to be of the nice kind, and Gin took a chance to strike up a conversation. 

“Do you suggest anything in particular?” Gin asked hopefully. 

“I’ve been known to be bad with decisions.”

[rialerolan-blog]

Ria hadn't expected the newcomer to ask for suggestions of what to eat at the buffet, but pleased to make conversation and knowledgeable (well, for the most part) of what the lengthy table had to offer, she was more than happy to oblige. "Well," she began, scooping some meatballs onto her plate. "You can never go wrong with these. The chicken's pretty good, too."

Recalling a conversation she'd had with an older gentleman just minutes prior, she added, "I usually fill up on finger sandwiches, but someone beat me to it." She offered the other woman a good-natured pout and held out her free hand for her to shake. "Valeria Lerolan, but you can call me Ria. And believe me, it's taken years of using this catering company to figure out what's good. I'm not the best at making decisions, either." When it came to more serious matters, she supposed she was, but food often tripped her up; it was — or should've been — so simple.

[lerolans-blog]

Truth be told, Oliver was a bit tipsy. He had imbibed multiple glasses of whiskey in past few hours and though it usually took a little more than that to give him a good buzz, he had also foolishly decided to drink on empty stomach. Now, he held a water bottle in his hand, hoping ( in vain ) that chugging it down would help him sober up before he did anything questionable and embarrassing. Aimlessly scanning the area around him, he caught sight of Ria who to his recollection had disappeared earlier for no apparent reason. 

Sidling up to her, Oliver flashed a wide grin at his cousin before finally greeting her. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since the party first started.” It was said offhandedly without any pretense. He really didn’t care. Ria had most likely been dutifully helping out their aunt with some last minute adjustments or chatting up partygoers. She was fairly predictable, though he meant that in positive way — she was, of course, Lavina’s favorite because of it.

[rialerolan-blog]

Oliver Lerolan looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary, but as he drew closer, the whiskey on his breath noticeable and strong, she came to the conclusion that he'd swallowed much more booze than feathers. To his credit, he was nursing what looked like a bottle of water, but even Ria, inclined as she was to see the best in him, couldn't help but wonder if he'd replaced the water with vodka.

If she hadn't just been snubbed by none other than the man she'd disappeared with, she might've put a bit more effort into returning his smile. "Around," the brunette shrugged, taking another measured sip of wine. Behind a nonchalant — if not a bit irritated — facade, though, she was suddenly (strangely) self-conscious; had he seen her run off with Mason? Did he know? God, she hoped not. How long had she even been gone? In an effort to make him the topic of conversation, she nudged him gently with her elbow, asking, "How many have you had?" 

[lerolans-blog]

Currently, he was pleased with where he was in life. College proved to be a place where a person like him could succeed and although he still wasn’t a straight A student, Oliver fared well in all of his classes. It helped that for the most part attendance wasn’t mandatory and homework was a rarity if it was ever even assigned during the semester. Here, he could get by on his wits alone whereas in high school effort played a large role in the final letter grade ( not that they mattered to him anyways ). 

Ria, on the other hand, had always superseded what was expected of her — she was, after all, a model student and shining beacon of success. His cousin had done exceedingly well in high school and continued the trend well into her stint at Yale. Oliver would be lying if he said it didn’t make him proud, but also he never did understand why it so important to her — not that she needed him to, of course.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he let out a soft “ah” as the scalding liquid hit his throat, burning like alcohol as it made its way down. Her voice, teasing and buoyant, cut in shortly, pulling him from his thoughts, mostly inspired by their interaction. “You just don’t know how to appreciate a good cup of coffee and when I say coffee I mean coffee, not milk and sugar with coffee flavoring.”

[rialerolan-blog]

It was the middle of summer, and — as her older brother might've put it — too damn hot for coffee, but any doubts she might've had about downing a steaming cup of caffeine (good taste aside, that was what she sought from nearly every drink she purchased from the cafe) had been laid to rest when she'd found herself at the end of a rather long line, right behind her favorite cousin.

Truth be told, she didn't like to play favorites, but for all intents and purposes, Oliver was her favorite when she was alone with him, if only for the sake of his ego. She much preferred not to say so out loud, however, lest that sneaky — pardon her French — bastard record it and send it to Gerard.

"Hey, don't insult my coffee. If you want to drink yours black, be my guest." She took a long sip of her "milk and sugar with coffee flavoring," retaliating with a quiet "mhm" once she'd swallowed. "What can I say? I like it sweet."

[rialerolan-blog]

— @ofsilverspoons

The meeting hadn't exactly been easy to schedule; her schedule and that of her professor's conflicted much more than what could even remotely be considered convenient, but now, after quite a few adjustments (including, but not limited to, cancelling lunch plans with her cousin), she sat before him at last, settled rather cozily into a decently comfortable armchair. She'd just opened her mouth to speak when a knock at the door — sharp and certain — interrupted her, and before the man in front of her had a chance to invite them in (or better yet, turn them away), the door flew open, nearly hitting the stopper. Ria jumped slightly, irritation flashing in her blue eyes as she glanced over her shoulder at the intruder.

[ofsilverspoons-blog]

Grinning, Mason conceded that she had a point. “So what you’re saying is- You want me to do other, more fun things with my mouth. Okay,” he nodded. “I can do that.” 

If he hadn’t already revised his first impression of her to accommodate this happening, Mason had to admit now that Ria was far from the girl she looked like. Poised and perfect she may seem, but there looked to be a wild girl underneath all of that. 

This was a good start to his time in D.C., one that he couldn’t have envisioned when he got dressed for this party. The same buttons he’d done up so carefully were now being played with by soft, nimble fingers, and instead of engaging her hands, he slipped one of his own under the back of her shirt and used the other to tip her chin up so he could lean down to kiss her. 

[rialerolan-blog]

The left strap of her dress was silky between her fingers when she pulled it up onto her shoulder, wiggling a little to avoid having to actually adjust it. Once it was in place, she crouched down to put on her shoes, silently cursing herself for having worn a strappy pair; there was no way for her to have known she'd end up making an arguably bad decision without having enough glasses of wine to blame it on, but it was an inconvenience just the same.

For once, Ria found herself at a loss for words, but instead of tripping over herself to break the silence, she let it be.

A few minutes later, she was back in the parlor, looking for all intents and purposes like she hadn't stepped away for even a moment. A half-full glass of wine in hand, she'd just finished talking to an older gentleman — a colleague of her late uncle's — about the distinct lack of finger sandwiches at the buffet table when she at last chose to scan the crowd for Mason.

[ofsilverspoons-blog]

Rare as the occasions were, Mason did make mistakes from time to time, his rash judgments leading him down paths he had never thought to set foot upon. This time, the mistake had been purely serendipitous. Had he not thought Ria to be somewhat boring, nor would he have subtly- unconsciously- challenged her to prove herself otherwise. She had done so, however, and here he was now, her hand in his, being led down a hallway to hopefully a good time.

Pleasantly buzzed by now, Mason didn’t stop to consider where they were going. They hadn’t ventured up the stairs, which was a blessing. A quick exit during the after portion of this upcoming tryst would be dependent on him being able to get the fuck out of Dodge as rapidly as possible. All at once he seemed to blink and watch as his surroundings finally came into focus, though it was completely dark and there was nothing to really see. 

How disappointing. 

“Are you a lights-off kinda girl? Because if we’re being honest- and really, can we be honest? I’m a lights-on guy. Can’t help it.” He directed his phone flashlight around the closet, a room that would only be considered big if it were for either a pantry or extra sheets and nothing else. 

[rialerolan-blog]

My, he was picky. Beggars couldn't be choosy, but the more time she spent with the man, the clearer it became that there was really nothing HUMBLE about him. But she hardly minded; he seemed to be the farthest thing from her type, but that only made incidents like this easier.

Or so she hoped. This had never been a habit and she wasn't looking to make it one.

Was she a lights-off kinda girl? Keeping the light off certainly made them a little less likely to be discovered, but other than easing her worries a bit, having the lights off didn't do much for her one way or the other.

After fumbling around in the dark for the dangling string, she found it at last and hooked her index finger around it, her other hand toying with the buttons of his shirt (she hadn't a clue when she'd made the remark that he'd make good on his word). His phone flashlight briefly lit up her features, and she blinked, blinded for a moment, before smirking, "If we're being honest, I'm a less-talk kinda girl, and you're awfully chatty. But I'm willing to compromise if you are." Her eyebrows were raised when the light flicked on.

[apropergimlet-blog]

Growing up, parties had generally been a good time. Her high school had been easy to navigate, considering she’d thrown herself into all of the clubs and sports she could without putting too much on her plate. Friends had come in abundance, and life had always been full of people her age along with her mother, fun, full of love, without too much expectation. 

The Carroses were the opposite of that upbringing, which was why, Gin supposed, her parents had tried so hard to keep her sheltered from that life. They weren’t asking for too much, though, her grandparents, especially considering what they were giving her in return. She could very easily just survive the next four hours in this dress that was probably worth the same as a textbook and then just never see these people again. 

Until, of course, the next time one of these things was happening and her grandparents forced her to come. Clutching her phone tighter in her palm, Gin approached the buffet table. Someone was already there and had seen her coming, so all she had to do was take the proffered plate. 

“Oh! Thank you so much,” she said as she took it. 

[rialerolan-blog]

Though she was rarely visibly uncomfortable (even in unfamiliar settings), graced as she was with a confidence that only failed her on special (and often inconvenient) occasions, Ria navigated the party with all of the ease of a woman who not only knew and was related to the hosts, but had lived in the house for a few months out of the year for the past three years, as well, holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas aside.

She was practically one of the hosts, and though such an attitude was — without a doubt — not shared by Oliver (or even the Macanthos children if the tables would happen to turn), Valeria was compelled to be a bit more hospitable than she usually was.

Thus, when a young woman she didn't recall ever meeting — or even seeing — before approached the buffet table, the brunette paused to offer her a plate and a friendly smile. "You're very welcome."

[ofsilverspoons-blog]

His first impression of her didn’t back away slowly so much as it found the nearest body of water to jump into and swim away. Boring, he’d decided within seconds, and here she was, proving to be anything but. She’d piqued his interest, this Ria, even before she’d looked at him with that innocent smile and glint in her eyes. 

If things were heading where he thought they were heading - and Mason was very rarely wrong about these things, as he’d taught himself the ways of women at a very young age and had only honed his skills since then  - he’d do nothing to stop it. Looking at her now, gaze flicking down her form from head to toe, he picked up on far more than he had initially: how innocent her smile seemed to be, a direct contradiction from the message her eyes were sending; how her dress clung to her curves in all the right places; how her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. 

“Sounds like you’re challenging me.” He watched in amusement as she placed her glass on the nearest surface, turning back at him questioningly. She’d phrased it as an invitation. It’s a big house. Endless possibilities. “I accept.” 

If those words hadn’t been clear enough, she took his glass from him and placed it right next to hers before fixing him with that same questioning gaze that Mason decided immediately he could not go without learning the answer to.

“Lead the way.” 

[rialerolan-blog]

Although she hadn't originally intended it as a challenge, that was exactly what it had become, and after rather boldly looking her over, the blond chose to accept. Insides warmed by the wine she'd had, she nodded, blue eyes scanning the room for any sign of her cousins.

The last thing she needed was to be teased afterward if they noticed her wandering off with the newcomer.

"Follow me," she smirked, having made up her mind that she'd follow through. Going upstairs would've been dreadfully obvious (the staircase was in full view of everyone in attendance), so she opted instead to lead him down the hallway, as if she were merely showing him the bathroom, then down another. Once they'd put what she felt was enough distance between themselves and the other guests, she tugged open the door of a closet the family hadn't used in years and, reaching back to close her fingers around his wrist, pulled him in behind her.

[aconcreteheart-blog]

“You conceded so quickly it makes me wonder why you even brought it up,” Gerard wondered aloud. Their relationship was by far the most open and honest of all of his relatives, save Oliver. Closest in age to each other, the boys were far too loud-mouthed and like-minded to be anything but truthful with each other. Countless instances had passed wherein Gerard had outright insulted Oliver ( and vice versa, though according to Gerard’s memory, that was far more rare ), and his cousin had lobbed back an jab as hurtful as any. 

No stranger would know that about him and Ria, however, what with her formal behavior. She seemed to be like this all the time, with a stricter code of conduct and morals than anyone else in the family, excepting Graham. Perhaps that was why his mother was the fondest of those two among the lot of them, though Gerard had never taken part in that competition. He’d never seen the point in doing so, as the only reward appeared to be Lavina’s continued interest in Ria and Graham’s life. Frankly, that seemed more like a punishment than something to aspire to. 

“I don’t actually know,” he frowned, remembering suddenly that his usual Saturday routine had been thrown out the window and everyone else had plans. “Guess I’m free. You?”

[rialerolan-blog]

"A healthy dose of being wrong, let's call it." She was joking, of course, but a grain of truth was nestled in her words, and anyone who knew her well enough would know it; Valeria Lerolan so hated to be wrong, to make mistakes, but while one part of her loathed imperfection, another hesitantly welcomed it. It kept her humble and provided something to strive toward.

He was free, and she hardly bothered to hide her surprise. She'd have expected Oliver to float about without plans, but Gerard?

"Your mother wanted me to pick up a few things from the store." When the barista called out their names, she stepped forward and plucked both cups from the counter, handing her older cousin his. "And... someone's been eating my Oreos." Unsure of which cousin to blame, she shot the dark-haired man a pointed look. "You could come with if you want." Adventures at the grocery store had been great fun when they were children, but she doubted Gerard would be up for such an endeavor now.

[lerolans-blog]

Although they shared blood and a surname, their personalities were as different as night and day. He lacked many of the distinctive traits that seemed to run in their family and though he joked on occasion that it was due to his rather divided upbringing, Oliver would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him at all. However, he was firm believer in leaving things as they were, especially when he didn’t have the power to change the circumstances ( which he didn’t ). It was a bit ironic though, since that exact train of thought was what differentiated him from Ria. 

“Yes,” he affirmed, nodding his head up and down, “I get rewards, cash back, travel points — the whole nine yards. You too could benefit from this, but unfortunately your better judgement gets in the way.” He then ordered his plain black coffee which was surprisingly not indulgent, though granted they were in a high-end artesian cafe so it was pricey nonetheless and reflexively, Oliver handed the cashier his card, feeling bare as the plastic left his hand. “Well, when he realized it wasn’t his money he was spending recklessly.” After signing the receipt, he stepped to the side and waited patiently for Ria to catch up.

[rialerolan-blog]

Ah, yes, her better judgement. Once, when she'd spent an entire summer away from her cousins, she'd thought such a thing — good sense, that is — ran in the family, like the blue eyes and brown hair (of varying shades) the strong majority of them possessed. And really, it did, but proper use of it did not. While perfectly capable of using his better judgement, Oliver chose instead to let it lie dormant, depending on some form of decision-making that she'd yet to decode.

Whatever required the least effort: the only insight she'd gathered so far.

It was admirable, the ease with which her cousin found more efficient ways of doing things to preserve energy. Swiping a card was endlessly easier than rummaging around for cash — especially when the card wasn't in his name — and he took full advantage of the opportunity to spare his wrist (and his bank account) the strain.

Once she'd ordered her coffee and joined him at the other counter, change tucked into her purse, she glanced up at him, her lips curling up into a smirk when she remembered what he'd ordered: a (remarkably) simple black coffee. "For being such a big spender, you drink coffee like a pauper." A pauper in taste alone, of course; the coffee was disgustingly overpriced, much to her dismay, but it was the closest cafe to their aunt's house.

[ofsilverspoons-blog]

Had her eyes been that blue five minutes ago? Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in, but Ria’s voice seemed slightly more suggestive now than when she’d initially responded to his query, and he couldn’t help but draw a little closer to her. 

“That sounds very interesting,” Mason said, lowering his voice. Either she truly had a worthy activity in mind, or she just happened to be the world’s best saleswoman. Her eyes were glimmering with mirth, and upon further inspection, Mason decided that she was actually quite something to look at. “Where can we do these things?” 

[rialerolan-blog]

He was closer now, and she knew it wasn't the alcohol playing tricks on her because she'd only had two — maybe three — glasses, and she was still sober enough to do three things: annunciate, walk in a straight line, and realize how truly BAD of an idea this was.

It was getting awfully stuffy, the more she thought about it.

She hadn't meant it as an invitation, per se, but Mason seemed all too eager to take her up on it, his voice lowering considerably and something akin to conspiracy leaking into his tone when he inquired about the whereabouts of such activities. If she hadn't had his attention before, she had it now. And she most certainly could've gone without it, but the more she mulled the possibility over, the more she realized she didn't particularly want to. Offering him a grin that oozed innocence — a stark contrast to the almost wild look in her eye — she shrugged, taking a step back to place her glass on an end table.

"It's a big house," she pointed out, dancing around the subject both to give herself more time to back out (if need be) and to gauge the blond's reaction. Her smile dipped down into a smirk, and she reached out and gently took his glass from him, setting it down beside hers. "Nearly endless possibilities."

[aconcreteheart-blog]

“You must have mistaken me for my brother,” Gerard said, referring to Griffin, “because I don’t kiss your aunt at all.” 

His family life wasn’t all that bad. Mostly his parents expected too much out of all of them, and they all, himself included, failed to deliver. Instead he and his siblings loosely banded together, though he knew for certain that Griffin didn’t think they were close enough. If anything, Gerard felt like he didn’t get as much time away from the rest of them as he deserved. 

As they stepped back, his madeleines in hand, he offered her one. Then he took out another, for himself, and bit into it. Gerard took his time chewing the cookie, enjoying it far too much for someone who didn’t allow himself sweets on a regular day, then turned to Ria. “If I’m a guy, and I’m drinking a drink, it’s automatically a guy’s drink, Ria. Don’t be so small-minded.” 

[rialerolan-blog]

"Point taken," Ria ceded, no stranger to the concept that the Macanthos children — Gerard especially — had a rather tepid relationship with their mother, her aunt. In fact, she was much warmer to her nieces and nephews, something even Valeria, the object of Lavina's affections (if they could be called so) at times, couldn't exactly comprehend.

Griffin had once passed the comment that their mother saw a bit of herself in her blue-eyed niece. He hadn't seemed sure whether he'd meant it as a compliment or not, but she'd been inclined to take it as one.

When he offered her one of his cookies, she gratefully accepted it, murmuring a quiet thank you — not because Gerard would've been irked if she hadn't, but because thanking him seemed utterly necessary (to her, at least) even though she'd bought them. "Right, pardon me. Your drink makes mine look dreadfully girly, Gerard." The sarcasm in her voice was light and harmless, as it most often was. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

[ofsilverspoons-blog]

“Likewise, Ria,” Mason said, repeating her name slowly, as if tasting it on his tongue. Maybe she wouldn’t turn out to be as boring as he’d initially thought, even if only a few moments had passed before his first impression. 

Without any thinking on his part, his eyes momentarily got stuck on her lips. They were so red, especially against the white of her teeth, and briefly, he wondered- what could that mouth do, and if this was a pleasure, how much of a pleasure could other things be? He clinked her glass against hers before downing the rest of his drink, then asked, “know anything fun to do around here? I’m a bit bored.” 

[rialerolan-blog]

She still didn't know where he'd come from — while Mason was a nice enough name and it seemed to suit him, it hardly gave her any insight as to how he'd ended up at her cousin's homecoming party — but something in the way he so bluntly admitted his boredom at a party where mostly everyone was made her want to find out.

Truthfully, she was bored, too, and so were the rest of the guests under the age of forty. But most — if not all — of them were polite enough not to advertise it, at least not to someone they'd only just met.

Refreshing.

He downed the rest of his drink, his gaze lingering just below her own (though not enough to raise suspicion), and when he asked if she knew of anything fun to do, she tipped her own drink in response. Her blue eyes glittered with amusement once she'd finished. "A thing or two." She knew where they kept the good liquor and the best places to sneak off to to drink it or do other things, having spent years under this roof, but she wasn't so eager to give away such valuable knowledge to a newcomer. 

[ofsilverspoons-blog]

His first instinct was to assume that she was making a jab at his clothing, though the next few moments allowed him to register her tone. His second instinct was to flirt, and while he didn’t register anything particularly beautiful about the girl, he was bored and didn’t know anyone else here. 

Nothing to lose, really, was the thought fueling his next words. 

“I could take it off if you’d like.” 

Flashing her his most charming smile, Mason tipped his drink towards hers. “I’m Mason, by the way.” 

[rialerolan-blog]

Her blue eyes widened at his words; of all the things the sharply-dressed man could have said, she hadn't expected that. Her red lips parted, and for a moment, she only looked at him, temporarily at a loss for how to react.

But then the Lerolan blood rushing through her veins took over and she was golden.

"Whatever floats your boat, Captain." Her eyebrows rose slightly, compensating for her eyes' return to normal. A hint of a smirk toyed with her lips, and it grew a bit bolder when he flashed her a smile and tipped his drink toward her, rum and coke lapping against the glass and his name — Mason — smoothly falling from his lips. "Ria. It's a pleasure."

[ofsilverspoons-blog]

East Coast life was only new in the sense that it was hotter than he’d expected, though Mason supposed that was the danger of only ever spending the winters on the Atlantic Seaboard. Santa Rosa was cool, mostly, and when he’d wanted to go to the beach, there’d been one close enough by. 

Life in D.C. wasn’t anything like that, and where usually getting to go out with his friends would make him feel better about the situation, that wasn’t an option anymore either. The Macanthoses, gracious as they were, had invited the entire family to their home for a celebration. The homecoming of one of their many talented sons, or something, though a quick glance around the room showed far too many grey-haired adults for this to be done solely for that purpose. 

Deciding to branch out a little, he turned instead to the person at his right, sipping at his rum and coke before saying, “Stuffy in here isn’t it?” 

[rialerolan-blog]

It had been months — maybe even a year; she'd lost count, really — since she'd seen her eldest cousin, and while they certainly weren't as close as they could've been, she was always happy to spend time with him during his brief returns. Usually, his visits home were met with small gatherings, if not borderline indifference, but for reasons otherwise unspecified, her aunt and uncle had decided that a party was in order.

She knew her aunt well enough to know that there was probably an ulterior motive (she'd gotten her business mindset from her father's side of the family, after all), but she'd learned to take — and be immensely grateful for — every opportunity as it came.

It just so happened that her next opportunity presented itself in the form of a blond nursing rum and coke at her left; truthfully, she'd known he was there, but she hadn't yet introduced herself, more for a lack of being able to pin down his identity than for a lack of nerve. "A bit. I imagine it must be even stuffier in that shirt." She gestured at his long sleeves — complemented by a nice tie — with her drink-occupied hand.

[aconcreteheart-blog]

Inquisitive, she was, Ria, far too comfortable asking questions that even his siblings didn’t ask. Griffin would make observations, Oliver would tease, of course, and Graham’s dark, knowing eyes would pass over him without saying anything. This one, however, was unlike even Genevieve. Of the women in his family, Ria was more outspoken, lighter, more brazen. Even if he hadn’t been related to her, Gerard was sure, she’d have forced her way into his life. 

Better to just let her barge in and stay without fighting. Less effort that way. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he swatted at her half-heartedly, too irritated by the fact that her insult was true to fight back. The line moved forward, and despite letting her stand in front of him, he spoke to the barista over Ria’s head. “I’ll have a Venti vanilla latte, with soy milk. And whipped cream. And,” Gerard leaned over his cousin, grabbing a packet of madeleines, “these. She’s paying.” 

[rialerolan-blog]

"Do you kiss my aunt with that mouth?" Ria feigned offense, knowing good and well that she, too, cursed — just not as freely, and not often in public. His swat lacked much of the oomph she knew he was capable of (even before he'd become a big Yale football player, he'd handed Oliver his own ass on a silver platter at several holiday gatherings, all in good fun), and while she was sure his obvious exhaustion was a culprit, she couldn't help but wonder if he'd have put forth more effort if the offender were, say, Griffin.

He proceeded to call out his order — surprisingly sweet and indulgent — over her head, and his arm followed suit, reaching over her shoulder to swipe a package of madeleines from the rack. The barista glanced at her as if to ask whether he was telling the truth, and she nodded her confirmation, opting for a simple espresso. "I had no idea you were into such girly drinks." She half-playfully teased once she'd paid and they'd stepped aside to wait for their coffees.