Page 32 of Because I Liked A Boy
Ruby lifts her head, eyes smudged. “Drive us?”
“Yeah.” Keys already in hand. “Be ready.” He’s gone before either of us can argue.
Silence. Then Ruby groans into her pillow. “Kill me now.”
I sit on the edge of the sofa. “Dramatic much?”
“Excuse me for not being sunshine after being treated like a one-night stand.”
“You really thought he’d stay?”
Her laugh cracks. “I don’t know. I thought with me it’d be different. That maybe I wasn’t just another girl. He said things that didn’t sound like Theo Hayes. Soft things. Made me feel like it wasn’t just another night to him. Like maybe he saw me.”
I smooth her hair back, sighing. “Ruby—”
“Don’t. Don’t tell me I’m fine. I feel fucking pathetic.”
My throat works. The truth slips out. “If you’re pathetic, I’m worse.”
Her brows knit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Heat floods my face. “I got so drunk I puked while Hunter held my hair. Then I tried to kiss him.”
Ruby’s eyes widen. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did. And he moved away.”
She stares, then bursts out laughing.
“Don’t laugh!”
“I’m not—I’m laughing at him. Who dodges you? You’re gorgeous. He must be a saint or a masochist.”
I groan. “He said he wanted me to remember it. When he kissed me.”
Ruby smirks. “Means he’s either the sweetest boy alive, or you’re about to lose a game you didn’t know you were playing.”
“Helpful.”
She pokes my arm. “See? You’re just as pathetic as me. Welcome to the club.”
I laugh weakly, but her voice drops, soft. “At least he stayed.”
The words hit hard.
I squeeze her hand tight. “Then maybe that’s our problem. We keep falling for boys who make staying feel optional.”
Ruby laughs softly, bitter at first but then breaking into something sadder. She flops sideways until her head lands on my shoulder. I let it, because I know exactly how it feels to want someone so badly it hurts.
We sit there in the mess of her flat—Ruby with mascara smudged and pride cracked, me with damp hair and a hangover I can’t shake—and it hits me. We’re both disasters. Both wrecked by boys we swore we wouldn’t want.
And somehow, even knowing it’ll hurt, we’ll probably do it again.
Ruby exhales a shaky laugh, the sound muffled against my shoulder. “God, we’re hopeless.”
“Completely,” I say, but the word feels heavy in my chest. Because hopeless is exactly how it feels—wanting someone I swore I wouldn’t, craving a boy who makes me forget every promise I made to myself when I came here.
I close my eyes, and for one dangerous second, I let myself imagine it anyway—Hunter in my kitchen again tomorrow morning, Hunter’s laugh filling this flat instead my silence. Hunter staying.
