Page 44 of Because I Liked A Boy
And just like that, he’s gone. Out the door, coffees in hand, leaving me flushed, speechless, and acutely aware of Ruby’s sharp-eyed stare burning into the side of my head.
His words linger like a touch, sinking under my skin. Andthe worst part? I don’t want them to fade.
I stand quickly, fumbling for my coat. “I should get back. Mr. Whittaker’s probably wondering where I’ve gone.”
Ruby doesn’t stop me. She just reaches over the counter, slides two cookies into a paper bag, and presses it into my hands. “One for you, one for your boss,” she says sweetly. Then, with a wicked grin: “And I expect details once you’re done playing bookseller.”
I roll my eyes, cheeks still burning, and escape out the door with the bag clutched tight.
Back at the shop, the bell above the shops door jingles as I step inside. Mr. Whittaker glances up from his clipboard, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise when I set the bag down in front of him. “Peace offering,” I say, nudging the cookie toward him before retreating behind the counter.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Smart girl.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, already knowing.
Ruby: We’re going to the call when you finish. No excuses. What time am I picking you up?
I sigh, fingers flying.
Me: I finish at 3.
Her reply is instant.
Ruby: Great. See you then.
I tuck my phone away, heart still racing, and force myself to focus on the stack of hardbacks waiting to be shelved. But it’s useless. All I can thinkabout is tonight.
I stack another hardback on the shelf, hands shaking too much to keep the spines straight. Tonight feels like standing at the edge of a cliff. And I can’t tell if I’m bracing for the fall or already leaning into it.
In the Driver’s Seat
By the time I get home, my nerves are shot. Ruby dragged me to the mall straight after work, and now my bedroom looks like a crime scene—skirts, cardigans, and shoe boxes scattered everywhere like the aftermath of a hurricane.
It’s nearly seven and I’m still standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of the green-and-white two-piece Ruby insisted on. The cropped top dips lower than I’m used to, the skirt skims higher than I’d normally allow, and my stomach hasn’t stopped twisting since I put it on.
Ruby’s on Face Time, stretched out in her room with a bag of crisps, smirking like this is better than Netflix. “Spin again,” she demands.
I groan but turn. She whistles. “Fuck me, you’re hot. He’s not gonna know what hit him.”
Heat climbs my face. “It’s too much.”
“It’s perfect. Trust me, Hunter’s gonna lose his shit.”
I glance at my reflection, tugging at the hem again. The cardigan slips with the movement, and the small silver glint at my navel catches the light.
Ruby shrieks. “What the actual fuck is that?”
Panic shoots through me. “It’s nothing—”
“You’ve been hiding a belly button piercing from me?” Her grin is feral. “Christ, Isabella. You’ve been holding out. Hunter’s gonna combust.”
“Nobody’s ever seen it before,” I mutter.
Ruby cackles. “Exactly. You’re lethal tonight.”
Before I can argue, my phone buzzes on the duvet. Hunter.
On my way. Don’t fucking stress.
