Page 34

TWENTY-SEVEN

lorenzo

A dozen different versions of the same pep talk have been running through my head in the hours since Ruby called me this morning, almost in tears.

I love a good pep talk, and I’ve got so many tidbits stored up in my brain from my years of playing football, but Ruby?

Not so much. She’ll tune me out after a minute. She likes action.

When she opens her door that evening to find me standing there in a pinstripe suit, she blinks as her eyes move slowly from my face down to my toes. By the time she reaches my eyes again, she’s smiling. “Is that your Halloween costume?”

“Sort of. I pieced it together.” Pinstripe pants from an old costume of Cam’s, black shirt, white suspenders and white tie, stupid gangster hat.

“Can I ask why?” Her eyes dance with excitement.

“You can, but while I answer, we need to dig your costumes out of the closet.”

She claps her hands together and turns for her bedroom. “Which one? We’re supposed to match, right?”

“What about that green fringy thing with all the beads?” I say, following her. I still remember the Halloween party freshman year and Ruby’s body in that costume.

“The flapper dress. I still have it.” She hauls a gigantic black trash bag from under her bed. “Now tell me what we’re doing.”

“Murder mystery dinner train.”

Ruby shrieks. “Oh, Lorenzo, seriously?” She throws her arms around me and pounds my back like we’re old friends. I wonder when we’ll stop defaulting to best-friend mode and start acting like a couple. “I’ve always wanted to do that!”

“No shit. You tell me every time we drive past the train station.” I try to play it off like this is no big deal, but I’m pumped I totally nailed this plan. “Now find that costume.”

Ruby is buzzing with excitement on the ride over. Her vibe fills the entire car. “So this little plan wouldn’t have anything to do with my state of mind this morning, would it? Trying to cheer me up?”

“Cheer you up with murder? You’re sick.”

She laughs. I know what she’ll do next: the arm squeeze.

That’s Ruby’s go-to move when she’s grateful but doesn’t want to get cheesy.

Her fingers find my bicep and squeeze, but then she leans over the center console and her lips brush my cheek.

“This is why you’ve never been broken up with, isn’t it?

” She kisses my cheek once. Twice. Three times.

That’s all it takes for my dick to spring to life under my cheap polyester pants.

Even her gentle touch can pull me under.

My mind stretches out the implication of what she’s saying.

Is this a relationship? Does she want it to be?

“I’m glad I can make you happy,” I say. Such a weak response, but she looks pleased as she settles back into her seat.

“This is going to be the best night.”

When we get to the train station, I look around the platform. People turn and stare at us, which embarrasses me but seems to ramp up Ruby’s excitement even more. We definitely leaned into the 1920s theme harder than anyone else here, but at least there are a couple of other guys in suits.

“We are supposed to be in costumes, right?” Ruby asks. “Not that I care either way,” she adds quickly. “I fucking love dressing up.”

I check the time. The train should have arrived already. “The website says dressing for the theme is optional but encouraged.”

A train whistle sounds in the distance. I sigh, relieved, as the people waiting slowly start to cluster near the edge of the platform. Ruby and I get a few more strange looks as we move closer to the group. I take her hand and ignore them.

That’s when I notice the men in suits aren’t dressed in costumes, just ordinary day-at-the-office suits. And I don’t see a single woman in costume. A bad feeling wells up inside me.

The tracks rumble and a train screeches painfully to a stop, but it’s not pulled by the sleek black Midnight Express engine I saw on the ticket website. This looks like an ordinary commuter train painted a sad shade of green.

I hold Ruby back as the other riders move for the doors. “Excuse me,” I say when the conductor hops off the train. “Is this the murder mystery train?”

The man looks me up and down, a smile spreading across his face like he just noticed my ridiculous costume. “Murder mystery train?” His tone of voice implies that I’m a total loser. “Nope.”

“Do you know when that one’s supposed to arrive?”

“I don’t know anything about that. But good luck.” He tips his cap, grinning, and hops back onto the train.

The back of my neck is warm with embarrassment.

But when I turn to Ruby, her hands are on her hips and she’s staring defiantly after the conductor.

“So the train’s late,” she says, her eyes softening on me.

“I’m cool with waiting.” She does a little shoulder shimmy, making the fringe on her dress swing enthusiastically.

I look around. Other than a young woman who’s definitely not dressed like it’s 1923, the platform is empty. “Let’s go talk to someone at the desk.”

The station building is tiny, with a few benches and a single wooden ticket counter. As Ruby and I enter, we get stares from everyone except the agent behind the counter, who gazes dully into her computer screen.

“Excuse me.” I clear my throat and lay my palms flat on the counter. An impending sense of humiliation is making me impatient.

She makes a low sound of acknowledgment in her throat, but her gaze doesn’t move from the screen.

“We have tickets for the murder mystery train.” God, every time I say that phrase, I feel like more of a douchebag. “Any idea when it’s arriving?”

Her gaze suddenly livens, flicking over to me for the first time. “The murder mystery train?”

I resist the urge to grit my teeth. “Yes.”

With deepening concern, she takes in my cheap white suspenders and tie and then, behind me, Ruby’s ridiculous getup. “Oh, sir, you weren’t notified? Tonight’s train was canceled.”

“Canceled? Why the fuck—” I catch myself. “Sorry. When would I have been notified? I just bought the tickets a couple hours ago.”

“It was a bit last minute, yeah, but you should have gotten an email. You’ll get a full refund, I’m sure.”

Canceled. Fuck. “Okay. Thanks.” I turn around, bracing for Ruby’s disappointment. “I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

“No!” she insists. “How were you supposed to know?”

“Maybe by reading the email that apparently every other ticket holder read?”

“Well,” she says, and I can tell she’s searching for some way to make me feel better. “I’m glad you didn’t, because there’s actually nothing I love more than not being the one to fuck things up for once. So this is a great night!”

I give her a grateful smile, but I’m still sinking in disappointment and irritation with myself. “You want to go home? Let’s change and find somewhere to eat dinner.” I put my arm around her and move us toward the exit.

Ruby snuggles in against me, but she’s looking out toward the platform. “I have another idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s catch the next train.”

“They only do one show a night.”

“Not the mystery train, the regular commuter train.”

I stop. “To where?”

“Anywhere. Or nowhere.” She nods, the idea gathering steam in her mind. “Let’s just ride the stupid train together in our stupid outfits and have a good time.”

“Sounds stupid.”

She grins like that was a compliment and takes my hand, pulling me back to the ticket counter. “We’ll get on the next one.”

“You really think sitting on a train being stared at by strangers sounds like a fun time?” I say.

“Yes.” She turns to me. “Everything we do together is a fun time.”

Minutes later and armed with two old-fashioned punch tickets that’ll take us an hour and a half north and back again, we stand in front of three neon-lit vending machines along the station wall.

“This is dinner?” I ask.

“Don’t cry, but I don’t see any salad. Or chicken. Or protein, period.” Ruby slides her credit card into the slot. “Unless you count the peanut butter cups.”

“You actually want to eat this for dinner, or are you trying to make me feel better?” I watch the machine push a bag of Doritos off the ledge.

“When has eating chips and candy for dinner ever made you feel better?” she scoffs. “I’m doing this for me.” But as she starts punching in her next junk food selection, her free hand grabs mine and squeezes.

It’s a brief, snapshot moment: feeling her fingers tight around mine, watching her study the row of candy bars, and thinking, I can’t live without this girl.

Stares encircle us as we climb onto the train and make our way down the aisle with armloads of snacks. I can’t bring myself to bask in it like Ruby does, but her smile chips away at my embarrassment. It is funny.

We find a half-empty car near the front of the train and slide into a bench seat, the aged vinyl crackling under our weight.

Ruby’s energy has fully bounced back from its brief crash at the ticket counter.

She settles into the seat like we’re on a plane bound for some exotic destination she’s waited her whole life for, and I know it’s not an act.

She can squeeze pleasure out of any situation.

“Okay, dinner or dessert first?” She holds a bag of potato chips in one hand and a bag of gummy bears in the other.

“Hmm. How about both? I’m thinking about a gummy-bear-potato-chip-sandwich experiment.”

She looks impressed. “You get wild when we take you out of Shafer, don’t you?”

“I still know how to let loose, even at my age.”

After we gorge ourselves on processed snack foods, Ruby sits back into the corner of the seat, folds her legs over my lap, and, with slight shyness, pulls me closer.

The feel of her warm, bare legs under my hands makes me wish we’d gone home and spent the night alone.

It’s a strange jolt every time we move from friendship to something more.

I’ve never been this playful with any girl I dated, never felt like she was my best friend.

That’s one of the things I always feared about getting involved with Ruby: that the playfulness would fade away or that we couldn’t be who we always were together.

But her smooth skin under my hands reminds me I can touch her in places other guys can’t and I can feel my dick harden for her and, still, sex won’t be the reason this is one of the best nights I’ve had in months.

We watch passengers move up and down the aisles and take turns making up stories about who they’re hurrying home to and where this day has taken them.

I try to keep mine G-rated, but a few take a turn for the sexual.

I can’t help it. Ruby’s skin is running hot thanks to the underpowered air-conditioning in the train car, and every time she moves in that skimpy dress, I wonder whether I’m about to get a glimpse of one of those hidden tattoos.

She keeps giggling into my ear and sending waves of her coconut scent under my nose.

When a man who looks eerily like her dad moves up the aisle, we spin a tale about Richard’s long-lost twin, and Ruby laughs so hard she has to stifle her snorts against my shoulder.

By the time the train rolls back into the station in Shafer, her warm body is draped against my side.

“That was the best night.” Ruby takes my hand as we cross the darkened parking lot toward my car.

This is a grossly overused phrase in her vocabulary, but this time I agree. “I’ll still get us murder mystery tickets if you want.”

She shakes her head. “Nothing could top that train ride.”

“Really? Nothing? No five-star restaurants or starry nights or trips to Paris?” I unlock the car and open her door.

“Something would go wrong there too. You always want everything to be perfect,” she says affectionately.

“So?” I cross to the driver’s side.

“So it never is.” Ruby gazes at me across the roof of the car, her eyes glowing. “And it’s always good anyway.”

With you it is , I think as she ducks into the car.

Ruby knows how to ride the wave, to enjoy the good and wait out the bad.

I guess that’s how I ended up here, ignoring the logic that kept me at arm’s length from her for years.

I didn’t plan it, didn’t even see it coming.

I just said yes when my instincts told me to.

It’s time I put a little more faith in them.

I keep sneaking looks at her on the ride home. Her blond hair is messy in the place where she leaned her head against me on the train, and while her energy has died down, her brown eyes are still bright with happiness. The sight of her like this stokes something deep inside me.

“You want me to take you home?”

“Sure.” She takes her time looking over at me, her expression building slowly. “You can hang out if you want.”

I swallow. Is this what she does with every guy? Teasing, drawing out the moment, leaving a question in the air about what she wants and how bad she wants it? Or am I just making things up in my head because I’m confused about what to do with all the ways I want her?

We park in front of her place. When the engine dies, we exchange a brief look in the dark silence of the car. We’re not about to go inside and read liner notes, that much I know. Then she breaks away and gets out of the car. I follow her like a goddamned puppy.