Page 30 of Stroked Long
“You don’t have to remind me every night,” she says angrily before hanging up the phone.
Little does she know, if I don’t say it, I will have a full-blown panic attack.
Fuck.
I run my hand over my face out of frustration as I ride the elevator to Ruby’s apartment. I’m not in a good place. My head isn’t on straight. I can foresee this night turning sour quickly. Then what do I say to Ruby? She’s already dealt with my moodiness at the pool.
I could murder Lauren for bringing Ruby to that class. I could not focus one minute on what I was doing with Ruby traipsing around in that two-piece. Was it ultra-revealing? No, but fuck, it was more than I’ve ever seen of her. Considering the images are burnt in my memory, I won’t be able to forget those curves for quite some time.
Then there was her swimming. She’s one hell of a shitty swimmer. Doggy paddling as an adult should be a crime. It almost looked like she was going to drown every time she let go of the edge. But then again, I found it . . . enchanting.
Christ, when have I ever thought of anything as enchanting? That’s not the kind of term a guy uses, but hell, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. With every single scraggily stroke she made through the water, she captivated me, pulling my attention away from what was important: teaching the kids the basic technique.
During my session with Dr. Auburn today, I talked about Ruby at the lesson, and he couldn’t stop smiling. The fucker. He and Eva could easily team up against me if they ever got together. Luckily, Eva stopped coming to therapy with me a long time ago.
Usually when I leave Dr. Auburn’s office, I feel a little relief but not today. Instead, I feel more tense than ever. He made me think about my feelings, made me address them, resulting in a realization I wasn’t ready to face.
I fucking like her.
FUCK.
I want to spend more time with her and that terrifies me because more time means more exposure to the true monster I am.
Second-guessing my choice to meet tonight, I contemplate going back to my car and my safe haven when the elevator dings and the doors open, revealing Ruby hunched over, carrying a bag of trash over her shoulder. Out of instinct, I run to her side and snag the bag from her.
“Where does this go?”
A little surprised, she points to a trash chute behind me. “Thank you. I almost got it there.”
“It’s too heavy for you,” I gruff out. “You should have waited for me to take care of this.”
“Now why would I do that? I was trying to avoid making you an accomplice to my murder but due to your chivalry, you are now an accessory to my crime. Look what happens when you try to be a gentleman? It just smacks you in the balls with a life sentence. Hope you can handle prison. My suggestion, bow down to the hierarchy, you’re too pretty to not be someone’s bitch.”
Where the fuck does she get this stuff?
I blink at her, not quite sure how to respond to that. Does she really think I would be someone’s bitch? No, that’s not what I need to focus on right now. But for the record, I can hold my own.
“I’m just kidding.” She nudges my shoulder and waves her arm in the direction of her open door. Just the sight of her unlocked door, open and welcoming any stranger has my heart rate picking up. “Come on, let’s get our paint on.”
“Paint?” I ask, not sure what her plans are for tonight.
“Yes, paint. I want to make sure my idea of stroking on canvas is going to work before we invest in it. And who better to test it out than you? Lord knows if I tried it, there would be little mini doggy paddle strokes in the middle of the canvas and no one wants to hang that on their wall.”
“You’re right about that.”
She pauses on her way to her apartment and turns to me, her eyes lit with glee. “Oh my goodness. Bodi Banks just joked around with me.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “Be still my heart. I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah, and that’s the last time I do that,” I mumble and continue to walk forward, grocery bag in hand.
“What’s in the bag?” she calls from behind me. “Is it for me? Did you buy me lube and Chicken in a Bisket crackers? How did you know I was out?”
The pitter-patter of her bare feet run behind me just as her arm links through mine, sending the beat of my heart into overdrive. She’s warm, soft, welcoming. I want to believe she’s non-judgmental, that she would understand me, but I can’t be sure.
“I’m just kidding; I have plenty of lube.” She winks and escorts me into her apartment. “But Chicken in a Bisket, now you can’t have too much of that.” With a sweep of her arm, she shows off the small studio apartment she lives in. “Welcome to my lovely abode.”
Holy fuck.
This girl likes patterns and colors. My eyes have no clue where to focus. If a textile shop and a rainbow had a baby, it would be this apartment.
