Page 36 of Let It Be Me

But now I have my answer:Fuck yes, it’s different. And I’m never going back.

FOURTEEN

lorenzo

I wakefrom a deep sleep and immediately know something is off.

Moving my shoulder, I check for pain, but it feels good. Even better than yesterday. I open my eyes to find Ruby next to me in the dim light of early morning, and then it all comes rushing back: the kiss.

Did it really happen? It comes back in snatches, like a dream, but they’re too vivid to be a dream. The warm, sweet taste of her mouth and the heat of her thighs across my groin. I remember the curve of her waist under my palms and the lacy feel of her shirt. I look at her, asleep on her side, and her shirt—black lace. It really happened.

Shit.

Why did she do that? Why did I? And what am I supposed to do about the fact that my whole body is aching right now to lean over and kiss her again?

I need a plan for when she wakes up and we have to deal with this. Was she drunk? There was no taste of alcohol on her, no sloppiness in her movement. Every part of her body was careful. Like she knew what she was doing. But instead of making a plan, all I do is replay those moments in my head.

She’s still until the trash truck begins rumbling and creaking out in the street. Then she turns onto her back, blinks, and looks over at me like she’s surprised to find me in my own bed. My pulse picks up speed. Our eyes lock, and the weight of last night hangs in the air between us. Then she grins and covers her face with her hands, laughing. “Oh my god.”

I sit up. “Yeah.”

“We did that, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.”

She slides her hands down so they’re covering only her smile, looking at me like she’s about to spill a delicious secret. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say, but I don’t like the way it sounds like I’m blaming her. The words come automatically—letting her know it’s okay but it’s notreallyokay. “Were you drunk?”

She nods quickly. “I think so.”

She thinks so? I study her, but I can’t read her. How weird to be in this new space with her after having seen what I always figured was every side to each other and every possible scenario two friends can encounter. Even though there’s a layer of awkwardness, there’s something else that feels good.

Ruby sits up and wraps her arms around her knees, reminding me of the feeling of running my hands up those legs as they straddled me. I shift to make sure the blanket is covering the boner I’m now sporting. My dick is so clueless.

“So did I ruin things?” she asks.

“Come on, Ruby. Of course not.” I put my hand on her wrist and squeeze. “Never. It was just a kiss. And let’s be real, it was ...” What am I trying to say here? I’m losing myself. My eyes keep going back to her lips, and every time they do, the taste of her floods my mouth again. It makes me weak.

Ruby raises her eyebrows, reminding me I was saying something.

“It was amazing,” I say stupidly, my voice suddenly soft, and it’s impossible to miss the hope that sparks in her brown eyes. I clear my throat, gaining control. “But it was a drunk kiss, and we both know we shouldn’t go there.” There it is, always at the ready, my solid but meaningless stance that we can’t let something like this happen. I push the covers away and get up, keeping my back to her as I yank on a baggy pair of sweats that are thankfully right next to the bed. I know I won’t have to say more—she wants out of this awkwardness as much as I do.

But when I turn around, she’s studying me, her cheek resting on her knees. “So you don’t remember?”

I freeze. I remember something—something from years ago—in explicit detail. I’m just not sure she does.

“After surgery?” she prompts.

Oh. I don’t remember a thing after surgery. “What happened?”

She bites her bottom lip. “Do you remember the conversation we had?”

A bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. “Did I say something stupid?”

“Depends on your point of view.” Her gaze drops. “You said we should give it a shot.”

“It?” I really don’t like the sound of that.

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