He answered her text quickly. I want to do more than brush your hair.
I can’t risk the quartet, she typed. Already, things feel different.
That’s all in your head. Jonathan & Steve know and they don’t care.
Stop yelling at me by text.
I’m not yelling. THIS WOULD BE YELLING, he wrote in all caps.
She didn’t dignify his caps-lock with an answer. She hated that everything he’d done to her was caps-lock in her memory, screaming in her mind THAT WAS THE BEST SEX YOU’VE EVER HAD. Her phone buzzed again, and she dreaded looking down.
Maybe it will be harmful to the quartet to deny our feelings for each other, he texted.
It’s just horniness, she typed back. We have to be disciplined.
I’d be happy to discipline you, you little minx.
She shielded her screen so the businessmen couldn’t read over her shoulder. Stop, Ethan. Don’t type that stuff to me when I’m on a plane.
Fine. But we’re going to talk more about this later, he typed, and she could hear his quiet, commanding tone in the sentence.
“Jesus,” she said, tucking her phone beside her.
The guy on the other side of her tried to make space. These poor dudes. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just…” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m just freaking out.”
“About what?” the guy by the window asked. “Fear of flying?”
She thought a moment. “No. Worse than that. Fear of being an idiot.”
“That’s a big one,” said the guy on the aisle. “But if it makes you feel any better, people are idiots all the time.”
The guy by the window scowled at him, like he wasn’t helping, but it did help a little. People were idiots all the time, especially when it came to lizard-brain things like attraction and sex. By the time the plane landed, she’d convinced herself that, yeah, she and Ethan had made an impulsive mistake, but they could recover by not being idiots.
“It was a good trip, guys,” Steve said as they left the terminal to find their cars.
“Better for some of us than others,” Jonathan muttered.
“Sorry again for the unexpected sexual activity at the reception,” Steve went on, ignoring him. “The clients gave us a big tip, so I’m not too put out.”
“It was a good trip,” said Ethan, looking at Ruby. His gaze singled her out. “I know you rode here with Steve, but can I drive you home?”
“Uhh…” she began.
“That would be great, actually,” Steve said. “I’ve got some errands to run.”
He and Jonathan took off, leaving her to hitch a ride in Ethan’s car. She frowned at Steve’s retreating figure. He wasn’t going to run any errands on the way home—he’d never leave his cello unattended in his car. He’d done this on purpose.
“Are you guys scheming behind my back?” she asked, as Ethan unlocked his car.
“No, not scheming. I need to talk to you, like I said. Get in.”
He put his viola case in the back seat, but Ruby held her instrument in her lap, maybe to use as a shield, so his sexy vibes couldn’t reach her pussy and make her lose control.
“You’re taking this so personally,” she said, as they got on the road.
“And you’re not being honest,” he shot back at her. “You want this as much as me, and you’re being chickenshit. Why?”
“Did you call me ‘chickenshit’?”
“You’re scared of our artistry getting pushed aside for other feelings, but it doesn’t work that way. You inspire me more now than ever before.”
“If you just want to bang me again—”
“Don’t.” His voice cut her off, hot, sudden anger. “Don’t talk about me ‘banging’ you. That’s not what it was.”
She turned to the window, giving him her back. Why were they fighting? Why was she being chickenshit, when he was willing to take a chance? She closed her eyes and held onto her violin case until he pulled up in front of her apartment. He put the car in park, and she could feel him staring over at her.
“I’m going to leave now.” She wouldn’t look at him, because that would be disastrous. “I’m not going to cry.”
“I don’t want you to cry. Don’t cry, please.”
“I’m not.”
“Fuck, you’re crying.”
He was right, she was crying. She started bawling a moment later because of all the emotions she couldn’t figure out, and he was reaching across the seat to hold her, because he was Ethan and he was her wonderful, longtime friend. He let her cry, stroking her hair and rubbing her shoulder, then they were kissing, and he was licking the tears from her cheeks and lips.
“I love you so much,” she cried between kisses. “Not just the sex. I love everything about you. But I love the quartet, too.”
“I know. Same. But we can have both, I promise. I’d never put our working relationship in jeopardy.” He drew back and made her look at him. “You know that, right?”