After Tuesday (32 page)

***

“Are you kidding me?” I screamed.

I picked up my bag off of his bed and threw it over my shoulder.

“What do you care?” he shouted back, trying to act like it was no big deal.

“What do I care? This is the third night in a row you’re going to a party. Really?”

“What are you? The party police? You’re not my mother, so don’t worry about it.”

“Fine, you’re right, but don’t think I don’t know about all the girls that are going to be there. Maybe that’s why you’re really going.”

“I told you that you could come.”

“Yeah, and I told you that I have class in the morning. Come to think about it, you do, too. What the hell is wrong with you lately?”

“Ease up, Miller. You’ll break a fingernail.”

“Asshole.” I headed for the door, but before I left, I turned around to look at him. “I’m not trying to fight with you. I just want to understand why.”

He didn’t say anything, so I turned the knob to leave.

“Ruby, I’ll call you later.”

I nodded and left.

***

Needless to say, we ended up working it out. It was hard for a while, but during the last year or so, we’ve rarely argued. When we did, it was usually about stupid stuff, like the time he ate all the cheesy wontons. That really pissed me off. He knew I ordered those specifically for me.

Now lying here in his arms, I feel Brent’s breathing slow, once again becoming even. He must have fallen back asleep while I was daydreaming.

I would love to lie here all day with him, but I should get back to campus, so I can get ready for the day. I have class and then an appointment with my advisor. Next semester is going to be really rough with all the upper-level classes, especially with the added graduate course, I’m planning on taking.

I stay still for a few minutes longer while I enjoy the feel and smell of his skin. Knowing I have to leave soon, I slowly start to ease out of his embrace. When I’m almost out, he pulls me back to him.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles into my dark brown hair.

“I have to.”

“But not yet. It’s still early.”

“I know, but I have to go soon. I have class.”

Brent’s lips touch my temple as his hand roves up my back.

“By the way, thanks for passing out on me last night,” I tease.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I think I might be coming down with something.” He leans back, resting his head on the pillow. “Did you have a nice time on your birthday?”

“Yeah, it was great.”

Last night, we celebrated my twenty-first birthday at The Signature Room in the Hancock Tower. It was nice to sit up there, looking out toward the amazing view of the city, lake, and pier, while we had dinner. Afterward, we walked down Michigan Avenue, watched the tourists, and ate some popcorn from Garrett’s.
I love that place.
It wasn’t too late, but we decided to call it an evening and head back to Brent’s apartment. I was a little surprised when he fell asleep so quickly. That wasn’t like him.

Maybe he is coming down with something.

“Do you like your present?” he asks, his finger moving lightly over the ruby pendant now hanging from my neck.

Since my eighteenth birthday, he’s given me a pendant every year. It’s become a bit of a tradition for me to move the old pendant to a charm bracelet, so I can wear the birthday pendant for the year. My charm bracelet now holds three pendants: a heart made from canoe paddles, an amber pendant he said matched the gold flecks in my eyes, and now the crystal star he gave me last year. He got me the last one because he said he loved to look at my face shining in the moonlight.

“Yes, but you really shouldn’t have.”

He kisses me quickly on the mouth. “You say that every year. Just tell me you love it.”

“I do love it, but really, this is a little more than what you usually do.”

“Just tell me you love it.”

“But—”

“Just tell me you love it.”

I begin to laugh a little. We do this all the time. He always calls me out on being modest about things. He’s right. I do love it. I love everything he’s ever given to me. I cherish all the things and all the moments, but I feel like he doesn’t have to do those things. I would still love him regardless.

“Fine. I love it. I love it to pieces. It’s the best thing ever. It’s like the lava in my volcano. It’s the crème to my a la crème. It’s fireworks on the Fourth of the July. It’s better than a million dollars in a bath of cream cheese frosting. It’s—”

“I think you’re selling it a little hard now, don’t you?”

“No, I
really
want you to know how much I love it.”

Raising his brows, his green-gray eyes look at me like I’m nuts.

I smile. “All right. I love it. I simply love it, but I love you more. So take that, sparkly red jewelry.”

“Thank you for making this easy.” He shakes his head.

“Really, I love it.”

Leaning over, I push his shoulders down, so he is flat on his back. I move to straddle him, supporting my weight with my hands. “I love it.” I plant a kiss on his neck. “I love these.” I kiss his lips. “I love this.” I kiss his chest, where his heart lies below. I linger there a little longer than necessary.

“Ruby?” He shudders. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you how much I love my present.” Inching upward, my lips trail along his skin until my mouth meets his.

“You must really like it.”

“No,” I utter, pressing
all
of my body against his, “I
love
it.”

“Well, I’m glad.” His fingers hook into my collar. “Is this my shirt?”

“Yep. I didn’t have anything else to wear last night. Wow. You really were tired, huh?”

“Yeah, I must have been.”

“Do you like me in your shirt?” I ask friskily in his ear.

“I like you out of my shirt even better.”

“Fine.” Sitting up, I grab the hem of the shirt and pull it over my head. “You can have it back. I’ll wear something else.”

I toss the shirt, and it gently lands on his face. I begin to move off of him and the bed.

“Nuh-uh.”

Grabbing my arm, he pulls me down and to the side. He rolls over on top of me as he moves one hand behind my head while the other grazes its way up the side of my half-naked body. Well, it’s now ninety-percent naked. I have a feeling that this thong only covers ten percent of my body. Okay, maybe it’s only three percent.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?” he asks.

“To get dressed.”

“You were already dressed.”

“Not really. You threw such a fit about wanting your shirt back.”

“No. I said I like you out of my shirt.”

“I can tell.” I hook my legs behind his back, pulling him against me. “I can tell you really like it,” I sass, referring to his hard-on.

“Yes. Thank you for stating the obvious.”

“You’re welcome.”

His mouth softly touches mine. With only my panties and his boxers between us, he grinds against me. I have to admit that this isn’t exactly how I expected to start my morning, but I’m not complaining. Brent is so incredibly sexy.

“Ruby. Why do you do this to me?”

“Who knows,” I barely make out.

Feeling his body all over me, I’m distracted by how turned on I suddenly am. His chest barely touches my nipples as his lower body continues to press against me.

“Brent?”

He knows what I want.

Sneak Peek

Oblivious

A Novel written by Carleigh Ryan

Chapter One

“Nora, would you just turn around and look?” Amber whispers, a little too loudly, in my ear.  She looks behind me without an ounce of discretion, and smiles sweetly at whoever she’s getting ready to talk about.  The girl doesn’t know the meaning of tact. 

“No.” I say, feeling the annoyance that usually comes when she’s being her usual interfering self.  I should be used to this coming from her, but I can’t help but be a little annoyed.

“Come on, seriously, I know he looks ahh–a little um unsocial, but I swear he’s hot and by the way he keeps glancing this way,
I’d
say he thinks the same thing about you.” 

Considering that it’s a perfectly sweltering August day I almost wonder if she’s referring to the heat of wearing an emo hoodie on a hot day, or if she actually thinks he’s good looking.

School started two weeks ago so it would seem a little unreasonable for me not to have seen him in class before, but the truth is I saw him long before today.  At first I couldn’t figure out why he looked so familiar when I saw him on registration day, but then I realized that I’ve seen him
a few
places over the summer.  Usually it was at the animal shelter, but I’ve seen him other places too.  Like the old folk’s home and once serving food at the local homeless shelter. 

We’ve never spoken.  Serving food or shoveling shit isn’t exactly the most opportune time to start small talk.  I only exchange words with the other “inmates” I know.  I try to keep my head down and get things done as quickly as possible while I’m working.  Besides, he’s probably there for the same reason I am–got into trouble, and has whacked out parents that get off on giving kids character-building punishments.  Or worse–his could be court appointed servitude. 

A quick nudge to my ribcage brings me back from my thoughts of dog shit and mashed potatoes the consistency of–well, dog shit.  This isn’t the time to fill her in on the fact that I’ve been predisposed to the latest victim of the “get-Nora-a-new-boyfriend campaign”.  The news would only fuel her fire so I guess I’ll go with the usual–it’s time to remind my dear, sweet friend that I still have the same boyfriend that I’ve had for the past three years.  A fact that she is well aware of, but still doesn’t like.

I want her full attention so I use her
most favoritest
nickname of all
.  “Amberger,” I say drawing the name out slowly, “Do you remember a guy named Jake Hathaway?  He’s tall, has dark hair, brown eyes, and a panty melting smile?”  She grunts and purses her lips.  Yep, she remembers.

“Listen, I know he’s not your favorite person, but he’s my boyfriend and he’s not going anywhere.”  She opens her mouth to say something, but I hold up one finger and continue before she can get a word in. “Now before you say anything about things changing when guys go to college, I just want to tell you that he is
not
like that.  It’s just not happening.”  I turn back to the front of the class, letting her know that the conversation is over. 

Amber is my very best friend, and has been since second grade, but when she told me over the summer that she had seen Jake flirting with a girl on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop in town, I just couldn’t believe it.  She was driving by and it could have easily been someone–
not Jake
.

Of course, I’m not stupid enough to not at least ask him about it–speaking of shitty conversations.  I’ll admit, asking your boyfriend if he’s flirting with other girls while sitting in the middle of a family dinner isn’t the best place to start a conversation of that nature.

Okay, so his Nana sort of overheard me and with the lack of her hearing aid needed clarification on what was whispered, somewhat privately, between the two of us.  Somehow “Were you flirting with another girl?” became “Where are the cheese curls?” Which was totally fine with me and thankfully Jake loves his Nana enough to indulge her little mix-up in the hearing department.  It became a full on conversation about how the table was deficient of cheese curls and she made sure that Jake’s Mom would rectify that problem on her next trip to the store.  She really is a sweet old lady, even if she can’t hear worth a shit.    

The flirting conversation was finished later, up in his bedroom. 
Really
, I had no reason not to believe him.  The only proof I had was that Ambs had
seen
it and truthfully it could have been someone else she saw or if it was him, it could have been completely innocent.  Mistakes happen.  Although, I did need a little convincing–lucky for me Jake’s
very
good
at that. 

It’s Mr. Abernathy that interrupts my musing this time with a disgusting clearing of his throat. 

“Class, we’ll be having a pop quiz today.  Please put everything away except for your pencils.” 

He begins passing the quiz sheets so that we can take one and pass the rest to the next person.  I’m at the end of the row so when the stack finally makes its way to me I have to turn around to pass them to the next row.  I certainly don’t mean to, but my eyes seem to have a mind of their own; they take a quick glance in the direction of the hooded boy in the back row.  It’s weird that I’m mildly disappointed that his eyes don’t meet mine.  He’s just sitting there, looking thoughtfully out the window while gently tapping his pencil on his desk waiting for the quiz to make its way to him--like a normal person, while I’m staring like an idiot. 
What the hell is wrong with me?
  I’ve let Amber weasel her crazy into my brain, that’s
what
.  My traitorous mind automatically joins the action and sends me to thoughts of the last time I saw him at the animal shelter.  He wasn’t wearing that damn hoodie, and now that I think of it, I remember exactly what he was wearing.

It was nothing special, a plain grey t-shirt that hugged his body just right with a pair of faded old jeans and some work boots. 
Ack!  Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
 
Why would I even remember that?
  I shake those thoughts away and immediately force myself to think of Jake.         

Jake.  Puppies.  Gum on my shoe.
  Any thought will do.

Once the weird thoughts are gone, I finish my quiz in record time.  We’ve been instructed to place our quizzes on Mr. A’s desk as soon as we’re finished.  I’ve made a habit of waiting until at least three people have turned theirs in, sometimes more.  I just don’t like to draw attention to the fact that I finish a good ten minutes faster than the rest of the class.