Page 61 of Ruin

Then, one of her friends pushes herself forward, wedging herself between Zeus and the bar, a pen held in her hand. “Will you sign my chest?” she asks him, sticking her enviably sized chest out, giggling and batting her lashes.

Really? Fucking really?

I grit my teeth, waiting for his response.

Then, I see a flash of that smile of his, and I’m hit with a tsunami of jealousy when Zeus takes the Sharpie from her hand and proceeds to sign her chest.

And I’ve seen enough.

“I’m not feeling great,” I lie to Rich. “Sorry to bail early, but I’m gonna take off.”

His eyes examine me, and then he looks over at Zeus before coming back to me. He knows I’m lying, and for a minute, I think he’s going to call me out, but he says, “No problem. Let me walk you to your car.”

“Sure.” I smile.

We both stand. I grab my cell from the table and put it in my bag.

I can still hear the giggles of Zeus’s groupies, but I don’t look at him again.

When we get outside, the air is fresh, and it’s just what I need to help clear my head.

We walk to my car in companionable silence. When I reach it, I get my keys out and unlock it.

I turn to Rich. “Thanks for tonight. For listening to me complain about my woes.”

“Anytime.” He smiles warmly. Then, he reaches out a hand and cups my cheek. “I like you, Cam.”

“I like you, too.” I smile. I just wish I liked you more.

He stares at me for a long moment, and I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.

But he doesn’t. He steps away and pulls open my car door for me.

I feel bad that I’m relieved.

I get in, put the key in the ignition, and pull on my belt.

“Drive safe,” Rich says, holding the door. “I’ll call you this week.”

“Okay,” I say.

He closes my door with a soft clunk, and I put it in gear and pull away, heading for home.

Five minutes later, I pull up onto my driveway behind Aunt Elle’s car. The lights glowing from the living room tell me that Aunt Elle is still up.

But then, of course, she would be. It’s embarrassing that I’m coming home early.

I suck at this going-out thing. But then I blame Zeus for turning up and ruining my night with his chest-signing antics.

On a sigh, I grab my bag and climb out of my car. I almost have a heart attack when I see Zeus standing at the end of my drive.

“Jesus Christ!” I say, clutching at my chest. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were still at the bar.”

“I left when you did.”

“Did you fly here?”

He laughs a deep sound that reverberates in my chest. “No. I just don’t drive like a grandma.”