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Trickery Never Pays
Ryan
Babsstandsinfrontof me on the balcony. The sight of her knocks the breath out of me.
I’m not sure whether to kill my friends at home or to kiss them for giving me a dare that leads me to her.
I have thought of Babs every day since I left her car at her house. Every day I’ve warred with myself over whether to talk to her or leave her alone. Did I judge her too harshly? Was I too insecure? Has she had enough time to mourn the loss of her dad?
By the time I realized I’d made a mistake, weeks had passed since I sent her phone call to voicemail. I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse as to why I’d waited so long to call.
Now, I’m standing in her hotel, completely unable to articulate a sentence. Typical.
As usual, her jeans hug her curves in all the right places, her shirt Vs down, showing a hint of cleavage, and the maroon material brings out the sparkle in her blue eyes, making them almost the color of the lake. Her hair is up, displaying that long kissable neck of hers, and somehow, with almost no makeup on, she looks as young as she did in high school.
“Hey.” Why do I lose all ability to talk when I see this woman? Infuriating much?
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and steps onto the balcony, closer to me. “Hey.”
Babs smells of lavender and powder, reminding me of cotton candy and flowers. Her breath smells of mint.
“How did you find me?” she finally asks when I don’t say anything else. Because apparently, I freakingcan’t.
I shove my hands into my pockets. “Lucy told us.”
“Of course she did.” She gestures to a hamburger on a nearby table. “Have you eaten?”
“Huh?”
Babs raises her brows. “Have you had dinner yet? Are you hungry? Can I feed you?”
My stomach rumbles in response.
“M-hmm.” She grabs her plate and walks back inside her hotel. “C’mon. Lemme feed you.”
I follow her into the hotel room and watch as she slips on a pair of sandals. Then she grabs her wallet and slips her keycard into her pocket before glancing over her shoulder at me. “Are you coming?”
I hold up my hands in front of my chest and shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. I show up on your doorstep after two months and you take me to dinner? Don’t you want to talk?”
“Of course, I want to talk. I just don’t want to do it with a king-size bed taking up most of the room. We don't need to be dealing with that kind of elephant.”
I glance at the giant bed covered in a white and navy duvet, and my cheeks warm. She has a good point. Especially if I’m going to try to convince her to date me.
“Can I at least pay for dinner?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I asked. I pay. Let’s go.”
She opens her door and strides out of the hotel, taking off down the hallway at a fast clip. I scramble after her, still not quite sure what’s going on.
When I catch up to her, she’s at the elevators, waiting for the doors to open.
“Have I upset you?” I ask when I reach her.
The doors ping when they open. Two couples are already inside. They move over to make room for us. Babs presses the button for the seventh floor, then shuffles to the back of the elevator. I follow her.
“Can we talk about this at dinner?” she murmurs to me, glancing pointedly at the others in the elevator.
I nod and shove my hands back into my pockets, giving her occasional sidelong glances while the elevator descends. On the seventh floor, the elevator pings again, and we exit to find the entrance to a restaurant named Beverly’s.
