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She draws a deep breath as if she’s hunting for courage. “And even though tonight is about new things, maybe we can keep doing old things too?”
I arch a questioning brow. “You mean hanging out?”
She nods quickly, seeming relieved. “Yes. That. Exactly.”
“Of course, weirdo.” I put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to my side. “I’m a friend for life, Valentine. No bucket list or cross-country move is going to change that.”
A smile curves her lips, but she still seems anxious for some reason.
“Want to grab a seat by the YO?” I motion toward the giant yellow sculpture of the letters Y and O. It sits in front of the museum, a welcoming invite. Ruby insists on taking a selfie in front of it each time we catch a new exhibit. “Maybe get some ice cream if a cart rolls by?”
She beams up at me. “You’re a genius. Race you there.” Before I can respond, she’s off, jogging through the crosswalk to the grassy median and then into the second one on the other side.
She’s fast in her boots, and her legs look amazing in those sheer stockings—strong and sleek—but it’s her skirt that makes my mouth go dry. It’s short and . . . bouncy.
Bouncy skirts are the best clothing design ever.
They’re just so damn tantalizing.
With each step, I’m wishing for a peek at whatever she’s wearing underneath, but each time, I’m disappointed.
The skirt is short, but apparently not short enough to fulfill my fantasies.
But that doesn’t stop my pulse from picking up or my jeans from getting snug in places they shouldn’t. This Ruby-inspired hard-on thing has to stop. We’re barely through two items on the list, and I’m not sure how I’ll survive all seven without draping a sandwich board over me that says I’m hot for you.
I take my time following her, needing every single step to talk my dick down. I’ve barely regained control when I circle to the front of the oversized letters, and I’m vanquished in a whole new way.
Fuck me and my control.
Ruby’s perched in the center of the O, high up so we’re at eye level. Her legs are crossed, dangling, and that beautiful, terrible, torturous little skirt rides so high on her thighs.
I can’t not look.
I’m not Ulysses resisting the sirens.
“Beat you,” she says, husky and a little out of breath. My gutter brain wonders if that’s what she sounds like when she’s naked and even happier than she—
Nope.
Not going there.
“You cheated. I don’t race cheaters,” I say, trying that excuse on for size as I attempt to rip my gaze away from her thighs.
But fail miserably.
Jesse–0. Libido–1.
Ruby hums beneath her breath. “Since when? You’ve always raced me before. And always won.” She sighs, pauses, then follows my gaze down to her legs then back up. “Wait. Hold on. Are you checking me out, Hendrix?”
“No,” I lie, still unable to look away. Or maybe I don’t want to look away, don’t want to play by the “just friends” rules that have always governed my relationship with Ruby.
“I think you are,” she says, her voice still breathy, but now also . . . teasing. Flirtatious. “And I think maybe I like it.”
My eyes jerk up, meeting hers with a sizzle I swear I can hear through the traffic noise from across the museum plaza.
“Oh yeah?” I warn my brain that this isn’t a good idea.
My brain agrees, but my brain isn’t what’s most invested in this conversation.
Yes, my incorrigible dick is getting hard again, but it’s the ache in my chest that worries me, the way my heart feels like it’s on a Coney Island thrill ride. It rushes downhill when Ruby says, “I promised Gigi I wouldn’t fall for you, but . . . seriously,” she says, laughing and rolling her eyes. “I mean, could we really catch feels in two weeks?”
Like that’s the most ridiculous idea ever.
And it does sound crazy.
Because that shit doesn’t happen. I arch a brow, my pulse speeding as I take a step closer. “Pretty doubtful.”
“Right. Two weeks is barely any time at all,” she says, slowly uncrossing and re-crossing her legs in a way that threatens to give my thrill-riding heart something more serious to worry about. “And if we were going to fall for each other, we would have done it by now, right?” She scoffs. “I mean, we’ve known each other forever.”
“But we weren’t always close,” I remind her, the words out of my mouth before I can snare them.
Why am I arguing with her? I can see where she’s headed, and I want to go there. A part of me is already imagining the sounds Ruby will make as I kiss my way up her thighs and drag those stockings off her legs with my teeth.
But the other part of me seems stuck in protective mode. “Things have been different the past two years,” I add.
