Page 51 of Because I Liked A Boy
The bell over the shop door jingles. I ignore it, focusing on lining up spines.
“Isabella?” Mr. Whittaker calls from the front.
I jog out, dusting my hands on my cardigan. “Yeah?”
He tilts his head toward the door, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Seems you’ve got company.”
And there she is. Ruby.
Still in her café uniform, apron strings loose, hair pulled up like she sprintedstraight from The Maple Bean. She leans against the counter, grinning like the cat who not only caught the canary but invited it to brunch.
I groan. “Seriously?”
“Take your break,” Mr. Whittaker says gently, already turning back to his clipboard. “You’ve worked enough for the morning.”
“Mr. Whittaker—”
“Break, Isabella.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
Ruby wiggles her fingers at me, smug as sin. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Belle.”
She loops her arm through mine and drags me straight into the stockroom, ignoring my protests.
“Ruby—” I hiss, stumbling after her. “I’m working.”
“Correction.” She kicks the door shut behind us, perching on one of the unopened boxes like she owns the place. “You were avoiding me. Now you’re not.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “There’s nothing to avoid.”
Her grin is pure predator. “Then you won’t mind telling me what happened last night.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Nothing happened.”
Ruby gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “You mean to tell me Hunter Hayes picks you up at eight o’clock on a Saturday night, looking like a sinwrapped in denim, and nothing happened?”
I grab a stack of books just to have something in my hands. “We hung out. That’s it.”
“Hung out where?” she presses. “Because you didn’t come back here, and you definitely weren’t at The Maple Bean.”
I slam a book down on the shelf a little too hard. “Does it matter?”
“Yes!” Ruby bounces on the crate, excitement sparking. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? The banter, the tension, the way you two orbit each other like magnets about to snap—this is my Super Bowl. And you’re telling me nothing happened?”
“Ruby.” My voice is flat. A warning.
She leans forward, ignoring it. “So what did he do? Dinner? Drinks? Something romantic? Oh my God, did he kiss you?”
I freeze.
Her grin explodes. “He did! He kissed you, didn’t he? Look at your face—you’re glowing!”
“I am not glowing,” I snap, cheeks blazing.
Ruby smirks, smug and relentless. “Uh-huh. You can keep playing the ‘just friends’ card, but friends don’t show up the next morning with vanilla lattes. Hunter Hayes doesn’t look at you like that unless it’s serious.”
Her words dig under my skin, setting my pulse racing. I stack faster, willing my hands not to shake. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it doesn’t,” she says breezily, hopping off the crate. “Keep telling yourself that, Belle. I’ll be here when you’re ready to admit it does.”
