Page 11 of Trash Talk
Chapter 8
Ruby- 20 years old
Apparently, you shouldn’t trust frat boy, douchelord poútsas that say, ‘you’re the only one.’ It’s a lie. If I’ve learned anything from the men in my past, it’s that I can’t trust them to put me first. To be faithful. Or honorable. Or really, just trust them with anything. Period. They all let me down (and that includes my father—who still only manages to see me when I visit him). There’s only a handful of people I can count on and Becks is the only male in the group. I’m seeing a pattern here.
I’m going home in two weeks for a little family reunion of sorts. I haven’t seen mom or my sister since I left Willow Creek a month ago. Now that MB’s in nursing school, I see her even less. I miss them both terribly. Becks is home for nineteen days (he’s been following a story, hopscotching all over Europe, for the past 2 weeks— must be nice). He was with mom for a few days, but said he’d lose his mind if she made him try out one more of her new healthy juice concoctions, so I told him he could come up early. He’s making the rounds— mom at home, me here, then Charleston to see MB and Soph (Em’s sister— they’ve been BFFs since birth as well).
Kara, my team/roommate, instantly fell head over heels for him. I think I damn near broke her heart when I informed her, it wouldn’t ever work out, with him being gay and all. It took her a second to get over the blow, then she seemed content with being couch cuddling besties all weekend (especially after she realized that Becks would watch all the chick flicks, I refuse to). He may have spent more time with Kara than me last weekend. He probably had more fun with her too, she’s super cool. And she also wasn’t going through a breakup melt down. I ate so much ice cream last weekend, I think I may be lactose intolerant now. I suppose it was worth it. But what I really need is a weekend away. A girls’ weekend.
So, Kara and I are heading to Clemson this weekend to hang out with all the best ones I know. Poppy’s coming down from New York with her roommate, Sara. Even HK is coming up from Atlanta. The gang is getting back together and we’re painting Tiger Town red.
Last night we stayed in, ate too much pizza and drank too much wine. It was just what I needed. Now I’m ready to go out. We’re hitting up a couple bars downtown. Drink a little, dance a little, get into a little trouble. You know, typical girls’ night. Em’s been acting weird. She’s been dating this guy for a while now, but she’s been pretty secretive about him. She told me, she didn’t want to talk about him, ‘til she knew it was something serious. Well, that was months ago. She’s still seeing him, so I’m guessing things are serious enough. I don’t even know his name. I knew things would change when she left.
We’re walking arm in arm down the sidewalk to the first bar, “so, when do I get to meet this mysterious boyfriend of yours?”
Her eyes dart to the ground. Suspish. “Um, he said he’s gonna try to come out tonight. So, maybe later?”
When I stop, Kara and Sara run into me. HK dodges right, then Poppy runs into Em, her nose buried in her phone. She’s really hung up on this guy she met. I don’t have the heart to tell her Reed’s an asshole. That all men are assholes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Em manages to meet my eyes, “nothing. It’s nothing. Really.” Gosh, Em’s a shit liar, but I’ll let it slide for now. Once I get her drinking, she’ll be an open book. Plan in place I step toward the door and open it for everyone. This is gonna be fun. Not forty-five minutes goes by.
“I’m sorry, Rubes.” I look at my best friend, who is clearly very drunk. The truth serum has taken effect.
“Whatcha sorry for?”
“I may have fibbed a bit earlier,” Em slurs at me from her bar stool. I’ve been drinking water all night so I can interrogate her when she got to this point. Okay, you caught me. Apparently, Em isn’t the only liar here tonight. I’m also not drinking because my fake ID was taken up at the last club I went to and now I have to wait ‘til my birthday to drink in public (I refuse to waste money on another one); I’ve got seven long months ahead of me. Regardless, now is my time to strike.
“What’re you talkin’ about, drunkie?”
“Well, I kept my boyfriend a secret, ‘cause I knew you’d hate him.” What? She may be even more drunk than I thought.
“Why would I hate him, Em?” Suddenly, I’m pressed against the bar by a large body getting between me and my bestie.
“There you are,” a deep voice says right before a tall, dark and beefy man crushes his face to my friend’s. If his back is that nice, I can’t wait to meet the front. I’m assuming that this is the boyfriend. And Em’s developed a taste for PDA. Not wanting to intrude, I spin away on my bar stool, bumping into the person behind me. Spilling his beer and effectively plastering his thin gray t-shirt to his broad, muscular chest. Holy pecs, batman. I follow his large hand, smoothing the dripping foam down his shirt that is now clinging to perfectly carved abs. My God, what I wouldn’t give to trace those babies with my tongue. I bet this asshole even has the V. My mouth is watering and before I can stop myself, my eyes travel further south to the bulge behind the zipper of his dark jeans. Impossible. No one’s body is this perfect. I swallow the drool that’s about to exit my open mouth and prepare to apologize profusely. Bonus if it gets me a night in the sack with this hottie.
“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sor…” the words die in my throat when I look into familiar chocolate brown eyes rimmed with even darker lashes. Gamóto. I’m not ready. It’s been years since I’ve seen him in person and I’m still not ready. How in the hell is it possible that he’s gotten even better looking since the last time I saw him?
“Hey, Shorty. How’ve you been?” His deep voice short-circuits my brain and sends heat to my core. Wild butterflies are dancing some kind of ceremonial jig on my diaphragm. I can’t breathe. Why am I reacting like this? To the guy that broke my heart, and I haven’t spoken to since. Ugh, he shouldn’t affect me like this. It’s not fair. I can feel his heated gaze roam down my body.
Regrettably, I let Kara choose my outfit for the evening. She’s like a six-foot-one, gorgeous Amazonian princess that wears this stretchy black tube dress thingy I’m poured into, as a shirt. It laces up the sides, pushes up what little boobs I have, tucks my waist in tight and ends shy of mid-thigh. I paired that bad decision, with one equally heinous— electric blue, three-inch stilettos. And if I thought I could walk in them right now, it’s exactly what I’d do. Walk away from this disaster as fast as I could.
“Well, say somethin’. We used to be best friends and haven’t seen each other in years. I’m sure there’s loads you want to talk about.” He’s baiting me, and if I were drunk, I’d fall for it. Hook, line and sinker. But I’m not, so I won’t. Won’t give him the satisfaction.
I was so shocked before I didn’t even notice he cut off all of his gorgeous hair. It was his thing. Beautiful wavy dark brown hair with natural highlights the color of caramel.
“You cut your hair.” It’s the only thing I can get to come out of my mouth. He bites his lip and has the audacity to look embarrassed for a second before smirking and running a hand over his buzzed head. I want that to be my hand. He also has a short beard. That I wouldn’t mind getting my fingers into as well. Holy shit! Knox Teller got hot. He was always attractive, but now I’m having trouble breathing around him and my mouth is dry. Probably because all of my saliva is in a puddle on the ground in front of me. He’s the kind of hot that makes girls blush and giggle for no reason. I will not be that girl. Not today Satan.
“Yeah. I did it today. I needed a change.” He looks at me so intently for a minute, like he’s trying to read my mind. I can’t stop my gaze from raking all over him. I haven’t seen him this close up or in person for years, and apparently, I’m thirsty. Drinking in all those tight muscles on his tall frame. The tattoos that run up his left arm. There’s a lot that’s new, and not all of it bad. Scratch that, not any of it is bad.
Shit, I’ve just been ogling him and not saying anything. I suddenly feel the need to leave. Just when I’m about to let the girls know my plan, Em’s boyfriend pipes up. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Ms. Ruby Kendall.” Shocked that, somehow, Em’s boyfriend’s voice sounds familiar, and he knows my name, I turn. It’s not the only shock I get. Why in the hell does Graham Freeman have his arm around Emma? Oh shit, I think I’m gonna be sick. “You didn’t tell her we were dating, did you?” He aims the question at his girlfriend, my former best friend. Who, at least, has the decency to look ashamed.
“Did you tell her anything?” That question comes from Knox, but also leveled at Em. Now I’m really confused. How much has my friend been hiding?
“Ruby, I’m sorry. I was going to,” I cut her off with a wave and hop off my stool, managing to gracefully take my first step in these ridiculous shoes. Deciding it won’t be as hard as I thought to walk away in them, I throw out an “I’m just gonna to the restroom” to no one in particular and hitch my thumb toward them. Escaping is my first and only thought, I need to get away from this train wreck as quickly as possible. But now I see a better option, I’m gonna walk right past that ladies’ room door and keep on walking until I’m out the front door. I need fresh air.
I stumble around the side of the building so I can freak out in private and lean back against the cool bricks. I’m on the verge of tears. Okay, so I saw Knox. And he looked good. Too good. He doesn’t deserve to look that good after what he did to me. And how could Emma do this? We’re practically sisters. How could she not tell me she’s been dating public enemy numero uno’s best fucking friend? She’s been hanging out with Graham since the summer; probably hanging out with Knox too. How could she? Deep breaths, Rubes. You can do this. And what did Knox mean when he said, ‘did you tell her anything?’ What am I supposed to know?
My life was a shit show before I got here. My advisor informed me last week that I needed to sign up for English 202 this semester because I won’t have the opportunity during my block senior year (I put it off for so long— I loathe poetry) and it’s not being offered in the spring like he’d initially thought. I tried late enrollment. Apparently, it’s full. Hello, summer school, here I come.
