Page 55 of Wicked Little Game
I don’t want to risk Ruby walking down there, stepping on something, and then we have to repeat the whole stitching-up shit on her foot. And I know her feet are ticklish. I would probably really need to take her out cold for that to work.
As I come back from the gym, I walk past Ruby, who is busy in the kitchen.
“How’s your hand?” I ask as I get the protein powder from one of the top shelves.
She rolls her eyes, making a show while trying to cut a cucumber. I think back to a video of a dog Max showed me a few months ago. The dog limped, and when his owners brought him to the vet, it turned out that he was just being overdramatic. Just like Ruby right now.
“Do you need help?” I reluctantly ask her before I continue preparing my protein shake.
“No, thank you,” she says with a sigh.
I’ve watched people being stabbed who made less of a fuss.
Logan got shot twice on a mission and proceeded to nonchalantly tell us about it as we boarded the helo, only to lose consciousness right after. Not to mention the time he cut a part of his little finger off. Yes,hecut it off and yes, the doctors on base were able to attach it again. Still sent him to psych evaluation after though because they thought “We were just playing five finger fillet,” wasn’t an appropriate explanation.
With a shrug of my shoulders, I walk back up to my room. Ruby seems to be grumpy, and it’s not like I have nothing better to do than watch her prepare a plate full of snacks and doing whatever she plans on doing today.
Apparently, she has her own plans, because I can work the whole day in my room in peace. I’m so focused on analyzing translations of Mr. Barron's various phone calls and trying to find connections that I don’t realize that the sun went down at least an hour ago.
A thud on my door disturbs my focus and for a second I’m worried that Ruby did a cannonball again. Hastily, I shove the documents on my desk together before I hear a second thud, apparently a more successful one this time.
The door springs open and I see Ruby standing in the doorway. Bags of chips and sweets are in her hands, a bottle of whiskey squeezed between her arm and her tits. She’s swaying on her feet as she tries to find her balance again.
Why open the door like a normal human being, or even worse, knock?
“Movie night?” She asks, but it sounds more like a statement.
Apart from that, I’m too focused on the way her nipples peek through the thin fabric of her shirt. Not that her pants are less distracting; if something as tiny as that can even be classified as pants.
“No,” I say. “And I told you to be careful with your hand.”
She walks into my room and in a sudden wave of panic, I get up to gently shove her out again. Ruby takes that as a sign that I changed my mind about her proposal.
“I’m picking out the movie,” I say as we walk down the stairs. Just to keep her from snooping around.
Quickly, I take the bottle of whiskey out of her hands, not really trusting her on the stairs, not with full hands. Especially not when I see that she’s wearing those fucking slippers again.
“Where are your grippy socks?”
“Told you I’m not wearing them,” she says as she walks over to the kitchen to fetch herself a bottle of water.
“Bond, again?” she asks with a groan as she lets herself fall onto the couch way too close to me, but I know better than to complain.
Unfortunately, I started to like the way her body feels against mine.
“Which one is it this time?”
She's cuddled up against me, abusing my arm as her pillow.
“The Spy Who Loved Me,” I answer, grabbing her wrist to look at the bandage around her injured hand.
“How romantic.” She laughs, leaning toward the coffee table to reach for a package of sour gummies. “Why is there no spy that loves me?”
She giggles while every muscle inside of me tenses up. It’s not because Ruby doesn't grasp the concept of personal space, or because she sneakily shoved a sour cherry gummy in my mouth.
Lying to her gets harder with every passing day, and even worse, she’s no longer the only one I’m lying to.
I twisted the truth a bit when I talked to Rockwell earlier today. I told him I need more time, that we have to secure our sources, and that we need more information to act responsibly. Maybe I even kept audio files of a few phone calls to myself.
