Page 30 of Stuck With the Best Man

If I could go back in time, would I change it? Would I simply shake his hand when he offered it to me and then politely walk away?

The answer should be yes, but I’m not sure it is.

Chapter Ten: Ben

Iaminarguablythedumbest man alive.

I’ve been on the road with Ruby for barely an hour, but I’m already starting to think that this trip is doomed to be a disaster.

Ruby is right. It’s normal to be disliked. The fact that I’ve been so caught up about why she dislikes me has now turned this entire situation into one that is unbearably awkward.

Frankly, I’m ashamed of myself.

As soon as a sign for a rest area appears, I announce that we’re stopping there. Ruby protests, saying we have to make it to Manhattan before the next storm starts, but then she stops herself and admits that she does, in fact, need to use the restroom.

We pull into the parking lot of the nondescript gray building that holds the bare minimum of roadside needs—bathrooms, gas pumps, an information desk, and an off-brand coffeeshop. Ruby unbuckles her seat belt and practically flings herself out of the car, half-jogging toward the building in her efforts to get away from the tense atmosphere we both created.

I take my time, pausing outside long enough to lean my forehead against the side of the car and close my eyes. Inhaling deeply, I try to reconcile my blurry memories of the alluring, intelligent woman I met eleven months ago with the tempestuous goddess that has now twirled back into my life.

I kissed her. I kissedRuby.

It had been a risk I was so desperate to take. I can recall that much. At that point, we’d spent almost two hours roaming the endless stacks of the Strand. We had found ourselves up on the second floor, huddled away in one of the more dimly lit corners of the cluttered shelves of books. I was telling her about how I once tried to teach myself French by readingTheLord of the Ringsin the language which, given the wealth of made-up languages throughout the book, was a complete nightmare. Thanks to the dyslexia that I also struggled with, I had trouble differentiating French from Tolkien’s multiple languages for the elves, meaning that most of what I tried to read was absolute gibberish to my eyes.

She was grinning as I told the stupid story, laughing at my small misfortune in a way that made me feel like it was hardly a misfortune at all. She murmured something about how she was semi-fluent in French—which, in hindsight, is definitely because she’s a ballerina, even though she never mentioned that—and then I pulled one of those lame one-liners about how maybe she could teach me French and blah, blah, blah…

Before I had been fully aware of what I was doing, I was tucking a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear, gazing into those bright blue eyes, and leaning in to press my lips against hers.

Thinking back, I’m not sure I know how long the kiss truly lasted. It could have been seconds. Or minutes. Or lifetimes. All I can remember is that she tasted like peach lip balm: sweet and addictive.

When the kiss was over, she blushed and looked away. I had considered going in for a second kiss, but then she subtly moved further down the narrow aisle of books and plucked one of them off the shelf. A pointed change in the mood.

Which was good, of course. Making out in public is something teenagers do.

Never mind that I wanted to do it anyway.

I thought about her for weeks afterward, especially when she didn’t answer any of my messages.

Stupid. I should have sent more than two texts. I should have tried harder to reach out once I was back in the States.

I grumble under my breath as I straighten to my full height and head inside the small building. Ruby is nowhere to be seen, so I duck into the men’s room.

Not that any of it matters anyway. Once again, Ruby is right. There might be no official rules about it, but if word spread around the company that Ruby was involved with someone on the Board of Directors, it wouldn’t bode well for her reputation. It doesn’t matter how ridiculous and unfair that is. It doesn’t matter that no one on the board has any power to decide which dancers are promoted. It’s just the way things work.

Still… we could keep it a secret. Nobody would have to know. Or I could step down. Find a different artistic cause to champion.

I don’t want to do that, though.

As I wash my hands, I scoff under my breath. I don’t know why I’m debating this as if there’s any chance in the world that Ruby would consider going on a real date with me. There will be no second chance between us. She’s obviously not interested.

I push open the bathroom door.

Then stumble when I run directly into a slender body.

Ruby lets out a startled noise and hops backward. I reach out for her shoulders to steady her. For a moment, we stand there like that, awkwardly half-embracing right outside the bathrooms.

“Sorry,” I breathe. “I should watch where I’m going.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. I can't read her expression but I feel the intensity of her eyes on mine and at least it feels like she’s not completely full of hatred anymore. “If you cause me to trip and break my ankle, I’ll hunt you for sport.”

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