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RUBY
I can’t tell if Rowan has accepted my explanation of what’s happening between me and Paxton or not. I lied to her as little as I could, vaguely explaining that it’s early days yet and I hate putting labels on things until it’s a sure thing.
I’m not sure how much she believes me, because now she’s trying to lure Paxton and me into double-dating with her and Mason. Either she’s super enthusiastic about us as a couple, or she’s suspicious as hell and she wants to interrogate us in person.
Two days after the comedy night date in which I tried and failed to rattle Paxton’s nerves, I’m sitting at my dorm room desk stroking on some taupe eye shadow and talking to my sister on the phone. The phone is propped up on a cell phone stand while we video chat.
Clair and Kennedy are sitting on Clair’s bed, and Clair is doing some kind of complicated braid thing with Kennedy’s hair.
“I told you taupe was your color,” Rowan says. “Listen. I won’t take no for an answer. You and Pax absolutely have to meet up with us tonight. There’s this new Indonesian restaurant that’s almost impossible to get into, but I got us in, because I’m amazing, and word on the street is that their ayam bakar Taliwang is to die for.”
“I bet it wasn’t pooped out by civets!” Clair yells from the bed.
“This again? Peasant,” Kennedy snorts.
“I could swear your friend just said something about food being pooped out by... trivets?” Ruby squinches up her face in confusion.
“My only advice to you is: never drink coffee that costs two hundred dollars for an eight-ounce bag.”
“As if,” Rowan scoffs. Mason spoils her with expensive stuff all the time, but she’s still, like me, a thrift-shop girl at heart.
I check my reflection in the mirror and nod in satisfaction. I have put the same amount of shadow on both eyes, which is as good as it gets when it comes to my makeup skills. I set down my makeup brush. “Whatever that thing you just said was, it sounds delicious, but I have plans with Clair and Kennedy tonight. We’re going to a bar in the East Village. I’m sorry. We’ll get together really soon.”
Rowan purses her lips. “So, things are... okay with Paxton?”
I feel a twinge in my gut. I hate having to lie to my sister. “Rowan, it’s just early days, you know, and there’s this giant spotlight shining on us. I’ve got paparazzi stalking me now, and it’s hard to develop a normal relationship under those circumstances.” Even harder when you’re lying to everybody.
“Oh, I know,” my sister says sympathetically. “That’s why Mason and I kept things on the down-low for as long as we could. Well, that and he was my client.”
“I know. Naughty, naughty.” I grin at the phone.
“All right. Well, when you do get together with him, you know the drill with the paparazzi.” Of course I do. I’ve heard this lecture so many times I can and do recite it in my sleep—according to Clair—but Rowan recites the rules anyway. “Smile and wave but move past them as quickly as you can. You can pretend to be talking on your cell phone if necessary. That helps a lot because that way, you can’t answer any questions. Don’t stop and give an interview. They’ll do and say anything they can to trip you up, and then they’ll misquote you on purpose. If they ask how Paxton is, where he is, whatever, just smile and wave. Smile and wave.”
“Sorry, I was distracted for a minute there, you said I should just frown and flip them off, right?” I smirk at her. “Throw hot beverages at them if they start to annoy me? Question their parentage if they get too close?”
“You’re hilarious. Also, don’t do what your boyfriend did and go on TV and give an interview without consulting the team publicist, and say things which you can’t take back.” She rolls her eyes. It is so weird to hear her refer to Pax as “my boyfriend.”
“I hear you. I have had words with him about that.”
“Half the reason I want you guys to come out with us tonight is so I can kick his ass. Seriously.” She shakes her head in exasperation.
“Well, that’s almost enough to make me want to ditch the girls and come, but I can’t. I’m sorry, but I swear on my life you and I will get together really soon.”
“When are the four of us going to get together, though?” she persists.
“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you very well. I think I’m going through a wind tunnel. Kssshhh... ksshhh...” I make crackling hissing noises and hang up the phone as she’s yelling, “Don’t you hang up on me, Ruby Dooby Doo!”
I stand up and take a look at my outfit in our full-length mirror. I’m wearing a white floral print sundress and strappy sandals. Clair and Kennedy always dress up, and they insisted that I do too.
“You look amazing,” Kennedy says. “All the guys will be wanting to hit that. Oh wait, you’re off the market. More for me.”
“Yep, I’m off the market.” I nod my head in agreement.
“You still haven’t answered my question about the pencil-Paxton comparison,” she says. “We can express it in relative terms, if you prefer. Pencil to Paxton length—75 percent? 125 percent?”
“Holy frijoles,” Clair said. “Is that even a possibility? My boyfriend is six inches when fully erect, by the way. Thank you for asking.”
Kennedy shrugs. “Well, I don’t care about his peen as much as Paxton’s, because Paxton’s peen is famous and it makes good gossip.”
