I’m not stupid. I know they’re just taunting Corbin. They think something entirely different is going on.
Corbin doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have me. Just like I can’t have him, but I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it when he’s with someone.
See? Terribly unhealthy friendship.
“So how did you come up with Ruby?”
Corbin’s other hand moves up my side, slowly feeling the material of my shirt like it’s fascinating. I hate this game.
This is the worst game ever, actually.
It’s where Corbin acts like he owns me, and he’s staking his claim. Usually happens when we hang out together in public. But never in front of the other guys. He knows better.
“Ruby red lipstick,” he says, and every bit of my anger flees as I start laughing, leaning back against him a little more, and feeling the hard chest of his at my back.
It’s like those three words magically dissolve all my fury. For a brief moment, I just relax in his arms as I’m transported back to a time when Corbin first became my hero.
But Jax looks so adorably confused.
“I don’t get it,” he says, looking back and forth between us.
“I hated the name Eliza because it was my grandmother’s name, and she was pretty horrible to me,” I explain with a shrug. “My mother hated the color red because it was too loud and obnoxious. So I stole a tube of red lipstick from a store and started wearing it all the time when I wasn’t at home. I was getting teased by the other kids, because, well, I was five and didn’t know how to put on lipstick properly. Corbin showed up to defend me, and then he asked why I was wearing the lipstick. He’s the only one who ever asked why.”
Jax still seems impossibly lost. It’s hard to recap memories that are so blurred, but I have all the highlights. I still remember the main part of that moment, even if I don’t recall every detail.
I was five, so you can’t expect exact details.
“The color of the lipstick was Ruby Red,” Corbin adds, kissing the top of my head.
No one else seems to get how important that moment was for me, because they’re all looking at us like we’re crazy. That’s right—everyone else has congregated around us, because evidently we’re circus freaks.
I’m still pissed at Corbin, but right now, in this moment, I’m a little lost to the little boy he used to be.
“On that note,” Jax says, glancing over Corbin’s shoulder, “I should get going. We’re partying at my place if you guys want to drop in later.”
Corbin doesn’t say anything as he continues stroking my side with one hand. His other hand remains still, but that damn thumb of his is still resting just under my breast.
I never knew one touch could be so tormenting. And that is definitely not within the boundaries we have.
“Let’s dance,” Corbin says against my ear as he lowers his head.
The warmth of his breath spreads and travels through my hair, making chills rise to attention.
Dancing is bad. Very, very bad. Because Corbin can move really, really well.
“Let’s grab a drink,” I counter, smiling when he grunts in disappointment.
These games we play… They continue to get more dangerous. We both seduce, we both get jealous, and we both act like this is just the prelude to something bigger, when we know it can’t work.
One day, we’re going to have to go our separate ways. Otherwise, we’ll end up old and alone with a life full of nothing but regrets. We may be best friends, but we’re not just friends. We’re not like him and Rain. We never will be.
We screwed that up pretty royally. Well, he did. I was the perfect girlfriend, if I do say so myself.
I just can’t seem to let that day be today because I want to hold on just a little longer. Like I said, I’m a fucking masochist.
CHAPTER 6
CORBIN
“Ruby looked smoking hot last night,” Maverick tells me, wearing that damn grin he loves so much these days.
I hate that grin. And I hate the fact I acted like a jealous boyfriend in front of all of them, because that’s all anyone has wanted to talk about since we left Silk last night.
I can’t help it if Ruby makes me crazy.
“Yep,” I say in a short, drop-it tone.
Of course he doesn’t drop it, though. It’s Maverick
“She seemed like she wasn’t mad anymore,” he says as he spots me on the last of my rep. I knew I shouldn’t have come to the gym at my usual time.
Maverick’s a fucking stalker when he wants to know something.
I push the bar up one last time, and he helps me settle it into place as I rise up, straddling the bench as I wipe sweat off my forehead.