Page 66 of The Invitation
“Give me his prison address and I’ll write him really mean letters,” I say, wanting to do something.
“Georgia,it’s okay.” He smiles. “Really.”
It’s not okay. Not even a little. “What would cause someone to be such a complete bastard?”
“We always butted heads. I guess I just didn’t accept his bullshit. Like, by the age of six, when he’d come home yelling at everyone, I’d call him out on it. He hated that. Who was I to challenge the great Reid Brewer?”
I bite my lip as he continues.
“I wanted to box, so he made me play soccer. I wanted to be a chef for a while, and he called me a pussy.” He takes a breath. “I lost my scholarship, and he broke my nose. It’s the only thing I’d ever done that made him proud of me and I lost it.”
“He broke your nose?” I yelp.
“Yeah.”
“And no one hit him back?”
“You don’t always win violence with violence, Peaches.”
“I want to fight him. I’d have to train a while first, but I want to at least get a couple of shots off on him.”
Ripley shakes his head, his chest bouncing with a suppressed chuckle.
Our gazes hold each other tight, and I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. My heart pounds so hard I wonder if he can hear it. The energy between us crackles—I can hear it—and I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never been before.
“It’s getting late. Do you want to film our confessionals at home?” he asks, his voice low.
As the sun goes down behind him, creating a beautiful backdrop, his skin glows from the golden hour, and I wish I had a camera to capture the moment.
“That sounds good,” I say. “I’ll send mine to Myla tonight. Our next date is supposed to be an adventure and I’m not very adventurous, so I don’t know what you want to do with that.”
“I think you were very adventurous today.”
I blush. “Thank you. I tried. And thank you for remembering that I wanted to skate way back then. That’s … slightly stalkerish, but sort of sweet.”
He grins. “You’re welcome. And I’ll pick the adventure if you want me to.”
“Please. But nothing with ice. I think I’ll be cold for a month.”
“No ice. Got you.”
“Then I guess I should get going,” I say, shifting my weight.
Even as I say I should leave, I don’t actually want to. None of this is real, but it’s … fun. When the cameras are rolling, it’s fun to see the other side of him. And without the cameras in the parking lot, it’s nice to have a real conversation without snark and gossip. It’s nice to talk about something substantial. It’s nice to feel seen.
Especially by someone as handsome as Ripley.
His hair ruffles in the breeze as he slips his hands in his pockets. He rocks back on his heel as if he’s dragging his feet, too.
Something in his eyes soothes me, and something in his manner lures me to him like a magnet. I crave the feeling of his arms around me again.
My body hums with anticipation as he takes a hesitant step closer. His nearness sends my heart into a freefall. I’m heavy, and warm, and hear my pulse strumming in my ears as his gaze drops to my mouth.
He’s going to kiss me.
He wraps his fingers around mine and pulls me toward him. His touch is both caressing and possessive, and the combination makes my knees quiver.
I force a swallow and lift on my toes just as a car horn blares beside us, breaking the moment.
