Page 7

Chad's voice sounded like it was underwater, buzzing and muffled. Not a single syllable actually reached my ears.

My wrist still burned.

Where Mr. Moretti had gripped it throbbed faintly. That intense cedar and tobacco scent clung to my skin and hair like it had seeped into my bones. His gray-green eyes with their naked appraisal, his rough palm burning against my outer thigh without hesitation—they branded themselves into my brain on repeat like red-hot iron.

"You dress like this and expect me to treat you like a nun?"

Humiliation and shame churned violently in my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.

"Ruby! Are you even fucking listening to me?"

An impatient roar exploded.

The next second, Chad's hand—reeking of booze—grabbed my arm hard and yanked me forward!

I stumbled. My knee slammed into the sharp corner of the coffee table. Blunt pain shot through me, snapping me violently back to reality.

"What are you spacing out for? Seeing ghosts?" Chad frowned, releasing me quickly, grabbing his beer and taking a long swig, looking down at me. "You've had this zombie look since you walked in. If you don't have anything important to say, I'm going back to the guys. Don't waste my time."

The pain in my knee made me shudder.

Looking at this drunk, irritated man, I snapped back to clarity—this was Chad. My boyfriend. The whole reason I'd put on this suffocating bodycon dress tonight, wobbled here in four-inch heels, worked up all my courage. It was all for him.

I couldn't let anyone ruin this.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat, took a breath, and forced all my attention back to the present reality.

"I just wanted to..."

I bit my lip, hands shaking as I unzipped my bag and pulled out the photos that had cost me every ounce of courage I had.

I set them gently on the stained wooden side table, face down, fingers trembling so hard I could barely hold the cover.

"Today's graduation. Chad, we've been together a whole year. I wanted to do something special for you. For our future."

"Something special?" His eyes dropped to the photos. He raised an eyebrow. "What's in there? Don't tell me it's another stack of your design sketches."

"No, I—" My fingers twisted together nervously. Don't back down, Ruby. This is your last chance. Chad loves you. He'll accept you. "They're photos. Of me. I wanted you to see that I can be... I wanted to tell you I'm ready to give you all of me."

Chad paused. Then he grabbed the photos.

I held my breath, staring at his face, watching for any shift in expression. I expected shock, desire, or that dark fire men get when they're completely ignited.

But he just flipped through them quickly. Surprise flickered, then his brow furrowed slightly. He let out a low, flippant whistle.

"Whoa." He flicked the photos. They rustled. "Look at this. Ruby Caldwell. Color me surprised."

Something mocking in his tone made me shrink. "Hey Chad, I—"

"No no no, this is great, babe." He turned the album toward me, showing the photo of me in red lingerie. "I'm just kidding. But seriously, this red lace thing is nice. Good lighting, pretty artistic. But if you'd listened to me and lost that ten pounds off your thighs and waist first, these would be way hotter. Still... A for effort, right?"

That casual cruelty, that condescending mockery disguised as humor, instantly drained all the air from my lungs.

"Chad—" My voice cracked.

"Alright, I appreciate the gesture. It is pretty 'sweet.'" He put the photos down, stood up, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But do we really have to do all this heavy stuff tonight? Why make it feel like some business transaction? The guys are still waiting for me. I promised Blake I'd do the keg stand challenge before midnight. So can we talk later?"

Suddenly, the romantic confession I'd spent a week preparing felt like a pathetic circus act. Something was wrong. He wasn't looking at me with anticipation—just the annoyance of someone dealing with a hassle.