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When my phone buzzes, I grab it up so fast. My heart is pounding. My world is spinning way too freaking enthusiastically.
It’s him! I almost jump to my feet and do a silly dance around the room. I can feel my feet tapping as though along with a tune. I feel like the biggest dork who’s ever dorked, but I can’t help it.
Hey, stranger.
Hey, I reply. I thought you’d forgotten about me.
I didn’t want to scare you…
I frown, wondering if he means this in a teasing or a nasty way. That’s the downside to texting, I guess. Yet there’s also a massive upside. I don’t have to be face-to-face with him while working out what to say. Even so, I brush my bangs down as if to hide myself.
Can you blame me for being scared?
No, he texts quickly. You live in the regular world. You’ve seen some bad stuff with what that goddamn animal did, but you don’t know how downright evil it can get. I want you to know something, Ruby. I might not always be good, but I’ve never been evil. I’ve never done anything that wasn’t warranted. There are bad men in this world, and sometimes, it takes bad things to put them right.
A moment later, he adds, I’m not sure if that came out right.
No, I understand what you mean, I reply. I guess it’s just hard for me. I’ve never really had a relationship before.
You’ve never had a boyfriend? he messages, making me wonder if he’s judging me.
No, I write. I always found it easier to read about Lancelot and Guinevere. You know, impossible romances, stuff that would probably never happen in real life. The sort of loyalty that seems to be in short supply these days.
After sending it, I see his three dots, and my fingers move quickly. And DON’T tell me I’m too young to be this pessimistic.
You got me, he replies, but I’ve seen real romance—my brother, Elio, and his wife, Scarlet. They have something special. I never would’ve believed it before I saw them. By the way, Scarlet mentioned she might’ve known you in school. Is your surname Fitzgerald?
Panic coils deep inside me. I walk over to the window, staring into the night as if I can see the past.
We didn’t really speak, I reply after a minute or two. But yeah, that’s my surname—small world.
I’m starting to think it’s a tiny world, Luca replies. She said you were just the same in high school. A beautiful, shy, sexy-as-hell history nerd with her head in the clouds and her nose buried in a book, just waiting for your Lancelot to come riding into your life.
Despite the tinge of drama touching me, I type, She said all that?
Okay, Miss Pessimistic. Maybe I added a few things. I want to see you.
I’m about to type a reply when a car pulls up outside the house. It’s almost midnight, and the vehicle drives slowly like the driver is trying to keep the engine as quiet as possible. Even in the darkness, the windows seem too black, as though they’re tinted. As I stare, Dad leaves the house—I quietly hear the door close downstairs—and walks over to the car. The whole thing takes maybe a minute. They wind the window down, and Dad gives the driver something. Then the car leaves.
I duck out of the way when Dad looks up at my window. It’s dark in here, too, but there’s light coming from my laptop. Closing the laptop, I climb into bed. A soft knock comes at my door. I ignore it. Then the door creaks open, closing a moment later.
Ruby? Luca messages. Have I scared you again?
No, I reply, wondering if I should tell Luca what happened, but what would I say? What did I just see? This Mom and Dad drama is giving me a headache. Maybe a break away from it all, with my so-called Lancelot, is just what I need. What did you have in mind?
Some lunch, some conversation, and see where it leads.
I sit up in bed, tingles dancing through me, swirling lust teasing me deeply.
I want that, Luca, I tell him. But first, I need to be upfront so you understand if I’m not like the women you’re used to.
Don’t compare yourself to other women, he replies quickly. I imagine him staring intensely at his phone. You’re one of a kind. Don’t even mention other women. Or men.
Some women would be freaked by that crazy possessiveness, you know.
Those women haven’t spent their lives reading about Lancelot and Guinevere, though, Ruby.
I smile, but a moment later, it falters. I have to send this message. It’s not a big deal. I’m not sure their story could work out in real life, anyway. What do boyfriends and girlfriends do?
You’re asking the wrong guy. I’ve never really had a girlfriend.
