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ruby

Lorenzo looks half dead when I push open the door to his apartment on Friday, grocery bags heavy in my arms. His eyes are glazed, staring at the TV from his new home on the couch.

“Chef Ruby in the house.”

Lorenzo heaves himself off the couch with a grunt. “Let me help.”

“I already hauled these bags five blocks. I can make it to the kitchen. You rest.”

“I’m not an invalid, Ruby, I can lift a grocery bag.

Give them to me.” He scowls and I can’t help but notice the way his lips pout a tiny bit.

Ever since the kiss, I’ve developed an uncomfortable fixation on his mouth.

I could have picked his lips out of a lineup at any point in the last decade, that’s how well I knew them.

But now that I’ve felt them against my own, I can’t help falling into the sultry memory of their taste every time I look at him.

It’s not exactly strengthening my resolve to never kiss him again.

Lorenzo, for his part, doesn’t even look at me as he waits impatiently for the bags. If he’s also seeing me in a new light, he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it.

“Wow, service with a smile.” I tug my gaze from his lips and push the bags into his free arm.

“Thanks for the help, Mr. Grinch.” It’s been more than two weeks since surgery, and I’ve never seen Lorenzo grouchier.

I’m fresh out of ideas for putting a smile on his face, but I’m determined to throw myself fully into the role of best friend—very platonic best friend. “So what did you do today?”

“Not shit.” Lorenzo starts emptying the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter. “Cash and Reeve came over for a while. I did my exercises. Tried to get Dr. Halpert on the phone, but I guess surgery ran long and he never got back to me.”

“You’re still bothering him about when you can get back in the gym?” I gather the cold items and carry them to the fridge.

“I’m not bothering him, I just want him to understand where I am physically. I’ve been feeling good. Matter of fact, all the couch time I’m logging is setting me back. The more I sit around, the more tired and gross I feel. I swear I can feel my muscles wasting away.”

I steal a glance at his good arm as he lifts a case of sparkling waters, noting that the swell of his biceps would beg to differ. “You have time, Lorenzo. Your coaches said it, Dr. Halpert said it. Lots of pro players have been where you are.”

He laughs without humor. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Ruby.”

I stop putting away groceries to look at him. He makes me wait but eventually meets my gaze. “You’re going to get an invite to the Combine. And you’re going to be there working at full strength and you’re going to blow them away. When have you not made things happen for yourself?”

Lorenzo just lets out a heavy sigh and turns away to put the drinks in the fridge. Seeing him hopeless makes my heart ache.

I consider him. “I know what you need.”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

“Like I’d cook for your grumpy ass? No. You’re coming back home with me. To the lake.”

He turns around, his expression completely devoid of enthusiasm. “Why would we go home?”

“Because I have to give my dad’s precious cats their medication.”

He makes a face. “Since when?”

“My parents are spending as many weekends as possible at my uncle’s cabin this summer, and apparently the neighbor who’s been coming by to do cat care had some emergency. It’s just for tomorrow. The neighbor will be back at it Sunday.”

“In what world do you agree to drive ninety minutes on demand to medicate your parents’ pets?”

“They pay my tuition. Therefore I cooperate.”

“Well, medicating two creepy cats sounds like the party of a lifetime, but I think I’ll stay here and await your return.”

“It will be the party of a lifetime; it’s you and me. And you don’t get a choice. You’re under my care, so you do what I say.”

He laughs. “A three-hour round trip in one day? That’s how you care for me?”

“We’ll leave in the morning and stay overnight. My parents are gone, your parents are gone ... How many times did we wish for such a coincidence back in the day?”

“We’re not stupid drunk assholes anymore.”

“Speak for yourself.”

He gives me an exasperated look, but there it is—that smile I knew I could get out of him if I made him remember our glory days.

The lake is the perfect place to forget our brief foray into romance and remember what it was like when our lips had never touched.

Of course, getting drunk and stupid is one thing I need to avoid if I want to make sure our lips never touch again.

“So?” I hold out my hand. We always shake on a deal.

For the first time all week, he grins. “Just don’t think I’m getting anywhere near any cat orifices.” He puts his hand in mine.

My parents think processed food is the devil, so we stop for groceries as soon as we enter Lakeside: ramen noodles, chips and salsa, chocolate milk, and all the fixings for completely over-the-top ice-cream sundaes.

Oh, and chicken breasts and salad for Lorenzo because he can’t not think about his football body for more than two hours.

From there, we turn onto Lakefront Drive, the two-lane road that wraps around Lake Foster and leads to our neighborhood.

When people hear you grew up on a lake, they usually think you come from money, but Lakeside isn’t that type of town.

In fact, it’s as boring and predictable as its name.

Sure, there are some impressive houses over on the east side of the lake, but those are the second or third homes of rich people who visit on summer weekends.

Most of the kids we grew up with came from middle-class families and ordinary houses that just happen to have a nice view of a lake no one’s ever heard of.

Lake Foster sparkles irresistibly in the late-morning sun as the car glides along the curves that trace the water’s pebbled shoreline.

Lakeside is a complete snooze of a town, but I adore the lake itself.

It was my escape growing up, the one place my parents couldn’t hunt me down, the one place adults couldn’t keep eyes on me and report back to my parents.

I spent my childhood learning how to swim, fish, boat, and paddleboard in all but the most extreme weather.

I even asked for and was denied a wet suit for my twelfth birthday so I could escape in the shoulder seasons.

No matter. I bought one for myself after selling off some of my parents’ alcohol collection to teens in the neighborhood—a six-pack of beer here, half a fifth of vodka there, the occasional cheap bottle of wine I hoped they wouldn’t miss.

I got caught more than once but by then didn’t really flinch at their punishments.

My parents’ house looks bright and fresh in the sunshine, its denim-blue shake siding and white windows sporting new coats of paint—of course the exact same shades of blue and white the house has always had because my parents have zero imagination.

Set among straggly pine trees against a lake backdrop, the house is modest but clean and respectable, the kind you might like to call home if you didn’t have to share it with Richard and Catherine Hayes.

When we pull into the driveway, I automatically double-check that their car is gone even though I know they’re away until Monday. Only then do I relax.

“We should take the boat out,” I tell Lorenzo as we unpack groceries in the pristine white kitchen. I swear our entire friendship these days revolves around buying, eating, or unpacking food.

“My dad sold it last winter, remember?”

“No, my parents’ boat.” I open the bag of tortilla chips and squirt a little dollop of whipped cream onto a chip just to see how it tastes.

“Yeah, let’s do that. And then when your dad comes home and dusts it for fingerprints, he can dislocate my other shoulder.”

“Oh, please. He loves you.”

“He tolerates me. And it’s been four years since I won his school the East Valley conference championship, so I think my good will is fading.” Lorenzo glances out the kitchen window that faces his house. “Think I should tell my parents I’m here? They’d probably come back early.”

“Depends. Do you feel like seeing the entire extended family? You know your mom never misses an opportunity to host Sunday dinner.”

Lorenzo turns away from the window. “Yeah, why bother.” There’s a long pause.

“Have you talked to Ant lately?”

He pulls a plastic container of salad out of a grocery bag and makes a big show of studying the nutrition label as though he doesn’t know exactly how much protein, iron, and vitamin K is in a serving of baby spring mix.

“Called him on his birthday, never got a call back. That was two weeks ago.” He turns his back to put the salad in the fridge.

Lorenzo and his cousin Anthony were as close as brothers growing up.

Ant’s a year younger and clearly worshipped Lorenzo when they were little kids, and by the time we were in high school, there was rarely a night out that Ant wasn’t around.

He went to school one town over, and even though the asshole kids from my school took issue with allowing “public school kids” into their house parties, no one said a word to Ant when he showed up at the door.

Having Lorenzo as a friend or family member was like a VIP pass in the high school world.

“We both know why he didn’t call back,” I tell Lorenzo. “It’s not personal.”

“Him living his life high as fuck every day doesn’t mean it’s not also personal.” But when I open my mouth to argue, he cuts me off. “Can we not talk about him, please?”

I shrug. “So ...” I glance out toward the dock. “Should we take the boat out?”

“I don’t think so.” He sighs, sounding exhausted. “I don’t want to get in trouble with your dad.”

“You dork. If anyone gets in trouble, it’ll be me.”