Page 102 of Betting on the Best Friend
I get off the sofa, smiling. We are in the same boat. Safe. I’m going to go tell him to his face.
And when that boat starts a-rockin’ . . .
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlie
I sit on mysofa and stare into the distance.
Stacks of shoes surround me. Packaging supplies litter my coffee table.
I see none of it. Even with my eyes wide open, I can only watch the replay of that kiss with Ruby. The heat. The soft sounds.
The way she jerked away from me.
I frown.
The way she turned from Niles toward me, her eyes full of hurt. Full of evidence that she still cares.
Niles and I, we’re built different. If she loved a guy like that,stillloves a guy like that, I don’t think she can love a guy like me. Whatever boxes he checked I can’t check for her. It would mean being different from who I am, and if that’s what it would take, what would be the point?
In a handful of minutes this afternoon, I learned that kissing Ruby is more incredible than I could have imagined. That “addiction” is the right metaphor.
I ignored Ruby’s last text. I ignored her FaceTime call.
Is this ego? Is my pride hurt because I “lost” to Niles?
The belt loop tug. The way her lips parted. The tangle of her fingers in my hair.
Is this disillusionment in Ruby for not expecting better for herself?
Her taste. Her gasp. Her moan.
No. This is loss.
And now I have an even deeper sense of how much I’m losing.
There’s a knock at the door. I stiffen, already knowing it’s Ruby.
She knocks again.
I get up and answer without checking the peephole. “Boundaries, Ruby.”
She’s on my doorstep in her tea party dress but hatless and barefoot, her shoes dangling from her fingers. Somewhere she’s picked up a Spurs jacket that’s way too big, the sleeve hanging past the fingers on her free hand.
“Boundaries are for protection,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“That’s what I want to tell you. You’re safe with me.” She’s smiling like this is the most exciting thing ever.
I stare at her, trying to figure out what this is about.
She reaches up to scratch her nose, her oversized sleeve flopping. “Can I come in?”
I step back to let her pass. She stops short inside when she sees the towers of inventory. “You’re going to die buried beneath sneakers you don’t even like.”
“Dramatic irony. I’ll take it.”
