Page 117 of Betting on the Best Friend
I shrug. “You will.”
He raises his eyebrows, waiting.
“How do you know if someone loves you? You, specifically. That’s the question. Will you think about it?”
He gives a slow nod, like he already is.
“And not answer in the form of quoted poetry?”
He smiles. “Okay.”
“Awesome. Are you done talking? I need to go to bed.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sorry I forced that conversation and kept it going.”
“I forgive you.”
“Do I get to make a demand now?”
I wave my hand like a gracious queen. “We will hear your request.”
He points to the bolster. “Respect the boundary.”
“You’re acting like I’m a sex-crazed maniac.”
“I’m acting like you don’t listen so well when I say I don’t want to be climbed like a tree, because you don’t.”
“You definitely want to be climbed like a tree.”
His eyes flash with the same desire I saw in his kitchen during the incident under discussion. He takes a deep breath and rolls his neck. When he looks at me, his eyes are guarded again. “You’re making my point.”
“It was one time, Charlie. You’re safe.” I pause to consider this. “Unless we both get too close to the bathroom counter at the same time. Seems like counters might be a thing.”
He puts his hands on his hips and stares at the floor. “Ramos. You’re not listening.”
“Look at me, Charlie Bucket.” I say it softly, and when he looks up, I meet his eyes and let him see how serious my next words are. “I heard everything you said. You’re safe with me.”
“It would be the stupidest thing in the world, Ruby.”
“Go brush your teeth and wash your face and come to bed. No one is going to cross the bolster to ravish you in the middle of the night.”
His stuff is already in the bathroom, and he walks toward it, muttering.
I can’t be sure, but it sounds a whole lot like he’s cussing out the bolster.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Charlie
It takes me foreverto fall asleep.
It takes Ruby no time at all. When I turn off the bedside lamp, her almost-snores start within minutes. I might be Chill Charlie, but she’s the one who can conk out anywhere. I don’t know how long I lay there listening to her breathing, but that’s not what keeps me awake. It’s not even the distant sounds from other rooms or the unfamiliar noises of the way the hotel settles or the different pitch of the air conditioner from my own.
It's hope.
Hope that creeps in when I’m too tired to keep it out. Who is it that says it’s the hope that kills you?
Ruby’s words from earlier keep replaying.We kiss each other like that’s what we were born for.
