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I’m left speechless, but that isn’t a concern for long. His mouth crashes into mine, and against my better judgment, I kiss him back with the part of me that spent so much time waiting for him to love me. It’s just as good as I remember. My back is against the door and he’s grinding his body into mine, running his hands up the back of my shirt, when someone inside pulls the door open and we both fall into the bar. A group of guys walk out, some of them muttering apologies as they pass us, and a couple of them laugh. I lie on the floor there for a couple of seconds in shock, and then decide to flee the scene.
“Ruby! Wait! Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving,” I yell back over my shoulder. “I told you I can’t do this right now. Don’t follow me. Don’t come knock on my door.” I exit stage right, and I’m in luck, for once, because my bus is coming up the hill and it has just started pouring. I jaywalk through the rain towards the bus stop.
Once the doors are shut, and I’m safely inside, alone, I pull out my phone and check my texts. Of course, there’s one from Jake:I can tell you’re upset with me, and I think I know why. Please call me.
Fuck.
But once I am home and have showered the smell of Alex off me, I realize that I do want to call him, and that maybe it’ll be uncomfortable, and that will be good. Maybe he’ll tell me I did put too much value into our relationship, and that I make too many assumptions. That’s always kind of been a theme for me, hasn’t it? Then, I can start to let go of this guilt that I’m feeling right now.
“Hey, Ruby,” he says. That’s it. Fuck, I missed the sound of his voice. This is hisI just woke upvoice. Shit, I didn’t consider how late it was. It may have been hours since he sent that text.
“Hey,” I say. “Sorry that it’s so late, I didn’t think about it when I called. I just—”
“Hey, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal. I asked you to call me. I’m happy to hear your voice.”
“You are?” I ask. Fuck, I’m tearing up. What the hell is there to cry about? What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Yes, of course—are you okay?” he asks. He heard it, I’m sure. I try to cover it up.
“Yeah, I’m okay. So, what’s up?” I ask.
“I think that maybe you saw something on my Facebook that might have given you the wrong idea,” he says. “And that maybe you’ve been upset with me. Am I right?”
“Um. Kind of. I mean, I saw the picture that you are talking about. I’m not mad, I was just a little confused, I guess. Then I realized that we never really talked about if we were exclusive or not or whatever, and I’d just kind of made an assumption—”
“Ruby, if I hadn’t made it clear to you, I am sorry. Let me be clear now. I can see why you’d need that.”
Shit. I’m such an idiot.
“I’m not with anyone else, I don’t want to be with anyone else, and I don’t want you to be with anyone else either. You’re the only one, okay? That girl in the picture is an old family friend. My dad told them we were here, and so were they, so he asked them if they wanted to meet up with us one night for drinks. She obviously wanted it to be something that it wasn’t. I was very clear to her, too. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” I say, starting to cry a little bit again, “I just had a bad fucking night. I got in a fight with one of my friends, and I really, really miss you.”
“Which friend? Evie?”
“No, my fucking neighbor, Alex.”
“Tall guy? Dark hair?”
“Fucking…probably.” I make a mental note to find out how and why he knows this when I’m not so emotionally disturbed.
“Didn’t realize that was one of your friends. I think that guy hates me,” he says. He sounds annoyed.
“Yeah, well, he probably isn’t anymore.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I feel like I should tell him what happened, especially now that he explained his situation. But this doesn’t feel like the right time. “I honestly just want to go to bed and forget about it.”
“Okay,” he says. “But if you change your mind, I’m here for you, okay?”
“Okay. Sorry, I’m just really tired,” I lie, knowing I’ll probably be ruminating over all of this until the sun comes up.
