Page 39 of Ruin Me Gently

A slow, uncomfortable heat crept up my neck and I yanked at the hem of my shirt, as if that would somehow fix the situation, but it was pointless.

“My face is up here, asshole,” I hissed.

His head snapped up.

“Say something!” I demanded. “I’m not playing your mute game again. You either talk, or—”

He raised his hand.

And waved.

He fucking waved.

A tiny, awkward wave.

Like this was normal, like he was just some guy acknowledging his neighbour after dropping off a damn fruit basket.

“Are you—” I took a step forward, rage thrumming through my veins. “Are you fucking serious right now?!”

Molly materialised behind me, making me jump. “Huh. That’s… not Clark.”

I didn’t answer at first. I was too busy trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“No,” I muttered, my grip still tight around the lighter-gun. “This is the guy I told you about. The one who grabbed me in the city, remember? The one who wouldn’t speak?”

Silence.

“Ohhhh. The one with the pretty eyes?”

Oh, God. I couldn’t believe I’d told her that.

I whipped around so fast my neck nearly snapped. “Molly!”

“What?” She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

I exhaled through my nose, willing my soul not to leave my body. “Can we not right now?”

She crossed her arms, lips twitching. “I mean… he does look kinda hot.”

“Are you kidding me?”

She gestured toward him. “Strong build, good posture, mysterious.”

I turned back to him. He was still standing there, looking like he was waiting for the ground to swallow him whole.

“He looks like a discount Phantom of the Opera!” I gaped.

Molly gasped. “You love Phantom of the Opera.”

“Yeah. The music. Not the creepy masked guy lurking around in the shadows kidnapping women.”

“So this is where you draw the line? Not when you thought he was Clark, not when you threatened him with a—” she raised her voice a few decibels louder, “—real gun! But when I point out he’s attractive?”

I took another step toward him, closing the space between us, but the second I moved, he took a step back. Then another. He didn’t stop until his heel was nearly hanging off the curb.

My heart kicked up, frustration flooding every capillary.

“Why the hell has Clark got you doing this?” I demanded.

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