Page 36 of No One's Like You
"Yes, of course," Ruby answers.
"How long have you two been together? You make such a beautiful couple."
Ellie chokes and Adele passes her the water glass to help her through the coughing fit while shooting daggers at Odette with her eyes.
"We're not dating," Ruby says, feeling her heart pounding in her throat. "We're just friends."
"Really? Oh my goodness, I'm sorry," she says with feigned innocence. "I thought your mother told me you were together. I'm getting more forgetful every day."
"You certainly are," Adele says, restraining the urge to stab her in the leg with a fork just to see the look on her face.
Ruby and Ellie say nothing more, both their heads spinning as they wonder why people tend to think they're dating.
Chapter 22
Girls' Wednesday
Ellie Trahan wakes up with an annoying buzz in her head. Her heart pounds so hard she feels her chest might split in two at any moment. Since that kiss that night, Ellie can't control all the sensations her body experiences, like dreaming that Ruby kisses her passionately and licks her neck in such a way that Ellie has to go straight to the shower when she returns to reality because her underwear and groin become a mess. Not only that, she's gone from staring at her best friend's lips to looking at the curve of her butt or her nipples when the office air conditioning gets too cold. She feels like a pervert who can't stop her impulses—at least the visual ones—that she has toward Ruby. She also analyzes her behavior and realizes it has been as toxic as it is incoherent; she can't stand it, she isn't like that and won't start being that way now at thirty-three. Today she feels especially nervous because, after what Jerome told her about losing Ruby—a wicked shiver runs through her—she can't figure out how to act around her businesspartner. And of course, that same night, during their customary Girls' Wednesday, with some cocktail that Ruby will prepare and the two of them, very close, lying in the hammock, Ellie isn't too sure she can avoid jumping on her.
She makes a decision; she needs to talk to Jerome. He's the only one who can shed some light on this emotional roller coaster that doesn't let her breathe. She showers quickly, puts on the first thing she finds, and leaves her house without even having a glass of water. She drives to her friend's salon and parks three blocks away because she couldn't find a spot closer. She curses. If her day starts like this, she doesn't want to imagine what the rest will be like. She knows she's creating unnecessary drama, but lately, her life is a soap opera in which she's one of the lead actresses.
"Hello," Ellie greets, and Jerome turns around with a flourish that only lacks the lighting.
"Ellie," the stylist smiles, believing he knows the reason for his friend's visit. "To what do I owe the honor?"
Ellie narrows her eyes because Jerome's gesture hides a victory that she knows all too well. Her friend hit the nail on the head two days ago when they saw each other, and she, no matter how much she denies it, knows he's right.
"Can we talk for a moment?" Ellie notices that in the salon there's only one client who's having hair dye applied.
"I can't leave, but I have twenty minutes while the dye takes effect," he points with his chin to the woman sitting in front of him, "and before my next client arrives."
Ellie nods; it's not the scenario she imagined, but she settles for those minutes because if she doesn't ask the questions stuck in her throat, she'll choke on her own thoughts until she passes out.
Jerome puts a cap on the client and activates a timer through a voice command to alert him when he should remove the dye. He takes off his gloves and approaches the table in a corner where there's a very modern coffee maker he purchased a few months ago. He prepares two drinks like an expert barista and sits on a small pink leather sofa next to a dejected Ellie Trahan.
"Well, tell me, what's going on?" Jerome asks.
Ellie shifts uncomfortably. When she rushed to see her friend, the conversation was clear in her mind. Now that she's there with him, nerves make her waver. She clears her throat and reformulates the question several times in her mind, but seeing that she won't manage to calm down, she blurts out what she wants to know.
"What do you mean that if I don't do something, I'll lose Ruby?"
Jerome raises both eyebrows and shakes his head, indignant. He thinks two things: either his friend is foolish or she truly hasn't realized what exists between her and Ruby. At that moment, Jerome has the option to give her some ambiguous answer, but he's tired of this seemingly endless story, especially because of the suffering it causes Ruby.
"Ruby has been in love with you since we were kids," he drops like a bomb. "In fact, when I joined you two, shealready couldn't take her eyes off you. I'm going to assume you've really been blind, Ellie, that you've been wearing a blindfold and haven't seen her signals or your own."
When Jerome finishes speaking, he takes his time sipping his coffee. He gives Ellie time to process what he just told her because his friend's face is a poem difficult to interpret. She has wide eyes, parted lips, and Jerome is sure she isn't breathing.
How can she breathe after hearing such a thing? Ruby in love with her? No, it can't be. Although what surprises Ellie most is something Jerome said about signals. Her signals.
"What do you mean by my signals?"
Jerome lets out an impatient sigh.
"Look, Ellie, all I can do is help you open your eyes," Jerome looks at his watch and notices with perplexity that fourteen minutes have already passed. "Think a bit about all those moments you've lived together, but especially when you hooked up with that guy with the black motorcycle or when Ruby was involved with Theresa. The moment you introduced us to Marcel or the day we met Amelia."
Ellie remains so confused that she doesn't even know what to ask. The stylist sees her bewildered face because he doesn't understand how the girl doesn't get it.
"Analyze your attitudes," Jerome says raising both hands in desperation, causing some coffee to slip from the cup and stain his pants.
