by Piper Lennox
“I do wonder that.” Bending down, he picks up an empty Cherry Coke bottle he left here God knows when. I look away when he spits, the grimy glob rolling down the side like syrup. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wanting you.”
“Well...you should.” I take a breath and straighten my shoulders. “In fact, I give you permission. I give you a heartfelt plea. Go be with someone else.”
Callum shifts his jaw, eyes glistening when he looks away. He dangles the Coke bottle by two fingers and taps it back and forth between his legs.
“Who is he?”
I look up from the black dress I’m pretending I might select. “What?”
“Who. Is. He.” He spits into the bottle again, caps it, and rolls it underneath my bed in one last spiteful gesture. He knows I hate finding those things. “You’re obviously going out somewhere tonight, looking how you do.”
“I’m in a bathrobe.”
“And,” he retorts, “your mom’s earrings.”
I ditch my excuse when I realize this might actually help him: the thought I’m dolling up for a date with someone else.
Which, technically, I guess I am.
“Met a guy at the hardware store today.” I rest my head on the closet door. “We’re going to dinner.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
I draw a breath that sounds a lot more patient than I feel. “I guess you could start by fucking the candle store girl up her ass.”
Callum stares at me a moment, those golden eyes simmering...then bursts out laughing.
“You’re so stupid.” He hops up and taps his fist under my chin as he passes, a gentle “buck up” motion he needs more than I do. “Have fun, wherever you’re really going. Tell Frankie I said hi.”
I think about ripping the Band-Aid off a little bit more: admitting I’m not joking at all, I really do have a date, and that Francesca is out of town all month.
Wisely, I don’t. Callum has a temper, to put it mildly, and a penchant for pills and bottles. He’s never hit me, but I’ve seen enough close calls to know it’s not impossible.
Enough to know “let’s stay friends” isn’t an option for us, even when I pretend otherwise. Like now.
“Thanks.” I return his wave as he leaves. “And you can take the jerky with you. I don’t even like it.”
He scoops it up on his way out, like he planned to take it all along.
I think about calling for him to leave his key on the kitchen counter, while he’s at it, but decide I don’t feel like exercising cruelty nor tempting fate tonight. One step at a time.
3
“Wow...you look amazing.”
I make my best “aw, you’re so sweet” face at the rose Theo hands me when I meet him outside Braise, a ritzy restaurant near St. James.
“Flowers? You agreed this wouldn’t be a date.”
“One flower.” He motions to my emerald green dress and silver heels. “And, pardon me for noticing: you don’t seem to be adhering to the agreement, yourself. Not that I’m complaining.”
I flick his tie. Then, for good measure, I smooth the lapels of his jacket. The way he swallows makes my boiling blood worth it.
“I only dressed up because I had the feeling you would. I’ve never been to this restaurant, but when I looked up the address I knew it was a dressy kind of place.”
Theo offers his arm. I take it and let him lead me inside.
“For what it’s worth, I originally planned on tacos. Something low-key. But so many places are closed, now that tourist season’s over.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, “the Hamptons slow down a lot, this time of year. To tell you the truth, I’m shocked you’re still here.”
For a second, I panic. My brain Rolodexes through every word we’ve spoken since he helped me in the hardware store. Did he ever actually tell me he wasn’t a local?
Before I can think up a believable lie as to how I already knew this, Theo shrugs. “I don’t know why I stuck around past August, honestly.” He places his free hand overtop mine. “But I’m glad I did.”
I force another blush. It’s a useful talent, being able to redden on command like that. He falls for it every single time.
When we’re seated (he slipped the waiter money in a handshake so we’d get a good view; give me a fucking break), he asks if I’ve got a favorite wine.
“I don’t really know much about wine, actually.” I prop my chin in my hand, but decide this is too forward and sultry. This date isn’t about getting Theo Durham in bed as fast as possible—though I’m certain I could, if all his smiles and glances are any indication.
Tonight is about momentum. The more I build, the better. And that involves a little more shyness, sweetness...and hesitance. He’s going to work to win me over.
Shifting, I decide a more fitting move is to put my hands in my lap like I’m not quite sure I belong here. “What do you recommend?”
When I bite my lip and look up from my menu, watching him behind my curls, I could swear I hear his breath catch.
“Um...well,” he stammers, blinking as he peruses the wine menu, “I guess it depends on whether you’d like sweet or dry.”
I make a face like I’m just so clueless. “Are there any kind of...in-between?”
“Sure.” He drags his finger down the menu, then scoots his chair closer to show me. “I think you’d like these. And this one here is excellent. But I might be biased—I know the owners of the vineyard.”
Jesus. Of course you do.
At my insistence (which is really just total indifference with a smile), he chooses. When the wine arrives, he shows me how to swirl it in the glass so it “opens up,” whatever the hell that means, and then how to spread it across my palate. He talks about notes and profiles and grape varieties, all the while moving his hand closer to mine on the perfectly ironed tablecloth.
“Sorry,” he blurts suddenly, lowering his glass, “I’m rambling about all this stupid stuff, when you probably just want to drink it in peace.”
Bingo. Wine, coffee, chocolate—why dissect it? Just savor, enjoy, and move on.
“No, not at all!” I close my hand over his. “I think it’s fascinating you know all of this.”
He glances at our hands. I do the same, pretending I just now noticed, and force my millionth blush as I draw away.
Theo smiles and takes another sip, this time just drinking it normally. “I’ve studied it a lot, actually. For a few years I thought about becoming a sommelier, but....” He trails, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m worried I wouldn’t love it anymore, if I had to do it to earn a living.”
Please. Like he’ll ever need to concern himself with “earning” anything.
“Are your parents in the wine business?” I drown my snark with a long gulp. Without asking, Theo refills my glass.
“My dad’s in real estate, actually. Workaholic type.”
“The money’s probably really good.”
Theo sits back and shakes his head, toying with the golden tassel on his menu. “That’s part of it, but I think he’s mostly afraid to have free time.”
“How come?”
“I’m not sure. We don’t really talk about that stuff. We don’t talk much at all, anymore.” His laugh makes the tealight flicker. “God, I sound like a latchkey kid, don’t I? ‘Woe is me, my dad’s never around.’ Not exactly a problem when you’re pushing twenty-three.”
“My mom was like that. Always working overtime, even when she didn’t have to. You start wondering, like...do they even want to come home?”
My admission surprises him. “Exactly.”
It scares the hell out of me.
No more deviating off-character, I order myself. I’m not here for candlelight confessions.
“Um...anyway.” I open my own menu and scan the dishes. Every item is ridiculously overpriced. Twenty-one dollars for salmon and rice? “So you’re twenty-two? Did you just finish college?”
“I’m afraid you’re in the pres
ence of a certified dropout.”
“Really? Why?”
“Just wasn’t right for me. At that time in my life, anyway. Why commit to a degree when you don’t even know what you want to do with your life yet?”
Underneath the table, his knee bumps mine. Instinct makes me yank it back, until I remember I’m supposed to not be appalled at the idea of Theo touching me.
“My dad was pissed,” he goes on, laughing to himself. “He’d already told all his colleagues and clients I was there, so whenever they’d ask how my studies were going, he’d have to tell them I just up and left halfway through.”
“It must have been a really good school, if he was bragging on you like that.”
Theo takes a breath through his teeth, glancing up at me. I wait, then motion for him to continue.
He pushes his hand through his hair. “Juilliard.”
“You dropped out of Juilliard?” I blurt, gaping at him. I actually mean it. Who the hell drops out of a school like that?
You know that answer, I remind myself, settling down while Theo laughs and shushes me, his neck reddening.
People who didn’t have to risk anything, especially not their own money, to get in—that’s who. When you’ve got nothing real invested in something, it’s easy to walk away.
How younger me ever looked at this guy and thought he was just so different from the others, I have no clue. They’re all the same: snobby, carefree, and entitled.
“Wow.” More wine. It’s the only conceivable way to get through this meal. “You, uh...you must have been really talented, to get in there.”
Or your dad’s checkbook is even larger than I thought. I’ve met enough musicians to know talent helps…but the ability to pay tuition in full helps more.
“I’m okay,” he shrugs shyly. As good-looking as that face is, I still want to slap it. The only thing more annoying than a lack of humility is fake humility, and I’m sure he’s got enough to fill every wine bottle on earth.
“What do you play?”
“We’ve been talking about me a lot, so far.” Theo pours the last of the wine into my glass and nods at me. “Tell me something about you.”
The alcohol helps my flirting, but not my conversation. All I can think to say are true things—none of which align with the character I’ve built in my head all these years.
That version of Ruby, the fake one, was going to be from a posh upper-class family much like his own, who shunned her family’s money for moral reasons and took a job cleaning houses to earn her own way. She was going to be new in town, a convenient excuse for Theo Durham to show her the sights.
She’s shy, sweet, and very naïve, much like how the real Ruby used to be. She adores Theo’s rich-boy drivel and goes wild for that pristine smile.
Problem is, I veered off-script the minute I saw him enter the hardware store. The second I took those buckets and shoved them onto that upper shelf, waiting for him to walk by.
This plan has all the details of a bank heist, but none of the flawless rehearsals. Sure, I’ve fantasized about doing it a thousand times...but I never really thought I’d get the chance.
I hate to admit it, but I’ve got to blame his eyes. Staring into them made me feel fifteen again: desperate to have him.
Hopelessly hopeful that, if he just got to know me...I could.
So all these partial truths, snippets of the real Ruby, keep slipping out. Like now, when I tell him, “Uh...I was really awkward, growing up.”
My pulse floats behind my eyes. I calm it by reminding myself the details don’t really matter. He doesn’t remember.
“Yeah?” A smile plays at his lips. My guard goes up, readying for some cruel remark, but I realize it’s not a mean smile. It’s sympathetic. “How awkward are we talking?”
An image of my former self flashes through my head. It still makes me cringe to remember. I wish I could go back in time and tell that girl to stop reaching for the stars. There’s nothing good up there.
“Just...socially unaware. You know? The kind of person who makes all these mistakes and doesn’t even realize it. Clueless. Nerdy, but not even in a brainy way—just so uncool, there’s no other word for it. Trying way too hard, all the time.” My babbling finally sputters to a stop.
But not before one last verdict slips out of my mouth: “Weird.”
His sympathy strengthens. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”
“Hmm.” I press my spine against the chair, hands going back to my lap. “If you met younger me, I’m sure you’d say otherwise.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not. ‘Weird’ has an unfair connotation as being bad. It’s not. It just...isn’t the norm.”
“Which is bad.”
“Which,” he says firmly, “just means you were probably a million times more interesting than any of the people around you, at any given moment.”
Oh, yeah? Then why did you treat me like shit that night?
If I was so fucking interesting, Theo Durham—why didn’t you want me?
Anger twists my organs again. Thank, God. I need it.
“Excuse me for a moment.” I force a smile and push out from the table. Theo stands to pull my chair out for me, which just enrages me more.
The bathroom is too soft and calm. Mini chandeliers and flickering wall sconces throw seeds of light over my reflection. Lavender inexplicably fills the air, serving as Novocaine to my pounding heart.
“You’re so...interesting.”
“I’ve never known anyone like you.”
Tears clog my throat. I clear it several times and blink at the mirror.
“Don’t cry about it,” I whisper. “You don’t have to cry about it anymore. Never, ever again.”
Drop by drop, I feel my confidence return. The too-soft lighting stops being so calming, and starts reminding me of torches. Flickering fuses on bombs.
The embers of war, finally bursting into flames.
4
“You’re shivering.” As we walk, I shrug off my jacket and drape it on Ruby’s shoulders. “Should we go back to the car?”
She thanks me and puts her arms through. “I’m fine now. Or at least, not about to freeze. I can walk for a while. Besides...it’s really peaceful out here.”
Her gaze sweeps to the water, pitch-black and lapping on the shore below. The moonlight is faint, and streetlights are few and far between.
“Sorry. I brought you here because it’s, like, picture-perfect in the summertime. Guess I should’ve realized November’s not the same.” It’s only a quarter past six, and already too dark to see much.
“It may not look beautiful,” she says, shoulder bumping my arm, “but it sounds beautiful. And feels beautiful. Even if I wish it was warmer.”
Pausing, she turns to the water and draws a deep breath. “The way it smells is the best part, though.”
I step up beside her and do the same. It’s completely different from summer: compressed, the scents of wet earth and salt sharper than before.
“Woodsmoke,” I point out, both of us twisting to follow the trail that appears overhead. “Must be a local.”
“Must be,” she says, “since you’re the only summer boy left in town.”
“‘Summer boy?’”
Ruby falters, moving her hands to get the words out. I love how her fingertips are all I can see, her arms drowning in my jacket. “You know...not the tourists who pop in for a week or two, and not the locals who live here year-round, but the summer-only people. You own vacation houses, show up when the hot weather starts...then leave before everything can get all gray and cold and gross.”
“Didn’t know we had a nickname with you locals. Though I will say, it’s better than what I would’ve guessed.”
“What would you have guessed we call you?”
“Rich assholes.”
Ruby lifts her eyebrows.
“Ah.” I shove my hands in my pockets before the wind can chap them. “They call us that too, huh?”
&nbs
p; “Well, I wouldn’t,” she laughs, “but...yeah. Only when the person really is an asshole, I think. Then again, I’m not a local.”
“I thought you lived here year-round?”
“I do now,” she explains, looking relieved when we circle back towards the car, “but I’m not from here, which in my head is, like...a real local. I grew up in Jersey.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Jersey is a perfectly lovely state, thank you very much. I’m so tired of everyone ragging on it just because it’s some easy punchline.”
“No, I wasn’t....” I shake my head, taking her elbow to stop her. “I’m from Jersey, too.”
Ruby reels a bit, sweeping her eyes up and down my body. “You?”
“Why’d you say it like that? Is there a certain way you have to look to be from Jersey?”
“I mean…you don’t have the accent, for one.”
“We moved to Manhattan when I was ten or eleven. Well, and Ridgefield, Boston…and a few others.” I roll my eyes at the difficulty of explaining to someone where, exactly, I grew up.
“Why so much moving?”
“It wasn’t really moving. Just acquiring more and more houses. Anywhere my dad felt like breaking into the market, he’d buy a house, relocate us, and set up a new office nearby. The Durham Real Estate empire.”
“That’s…impressive.”
“It’s baffling. The man used to be a zoologist with Bergen and Cohanzick, volunteered with all these conservation efforts, advised on exotic care in Barker…. Now he spends his days glued to a phone, selling multi-million dollar mansions.”
Ruby thanks me when we reach the car and I open her door for her. I rush around to my side, get in, and crank the heat. We’re quiet for a while, cupping our hands around the vents and shivering.
“How does someone go from zoology to real estate?” she asks. “Or from what I assume was a regular life in a regular home to...how many houses, spread out all over kingdom come?”