by Lacey Black
“Actually, I’ll go with you,” I state, happy to get up and away from our two tails for a little bit.
Danny asks for a bottle of water as I lead the way through our row of seats and reach back for Rueben’s hand. I don’t know why, exactly, but it’s comforting. I like it when we touch. He doesn’t seem to mind either, because he slips his hand in mind and walks beside me as we make our way to the nearest concession stand.
I try to gather my thoughts as I browse the menu items. The line is moving slower now, considering its lunchtime, and we silently wait for our turn to order. My mind keeps replaying what Danny said about being on camera. I knew this business was cut-throat, and that’s a big reason why I didn’t want it. I enjoyed the production room. I liked being behind the scenes and making the ship sail smoothly, even through rough, choppy waters.
“I don’t really like being on camera,” I state, unable to stop the word vomit from spewing out. “I know we’ve kinda already talked about my job, but the truth is… I hate it.”
Suddenly, I find myself almost panting with panic. I’ve never actually spoken those words aloud, fearful that they’ll be used against me and I’ll suddenly find myself without a job in a city like San Francisco. But the truth is, San Francisco isn’t home to me. Sure, it’s a great city with great nightlife and things to see and do, but it’s always felt like more of a landing strip than a home. For years, I associated that to my break up with Danny, and I was determined to prove that I could do it. Alone. But now? Now I crave the comfort and familiarity of roots, of home. Maybe it’s being back here, to the place it all began. Or maybe it’s Rueben’s presence in my life. All I know is suddenly, I don’t really have any interest in going back to my old life. I want something new, something exciting, something that gives me purpose and joy.
Rueben takes my hand and pulls me away from the food. “But what about—” I start, but he cuts me off with his lips. The kiss is firm and packs the punch of a thousand hammers to my soul. But it’s also confusing. There’s no one around to sell our fake romance to, so why is he kissing me? God, this kiss…is everything.
And that’s when it hits me like a cold shower. He’s doing it to calm me down. Not because he wants to kiss for the sake of really hot kisses, but because it’s the only thing he can think of to keep the panic at bay and to take my mind off my life problems.
“Sorry,” he stutters, blinking several times. “I didn’t mean to kiss you like that. You looked a little freaked out, and I just…”
Called it.
Mortification sweeps in, branding my cheeks a dark shade of red. “No, it’s okay!” I practically holler, wishing I had disappearing powers. Those would come in handy right about now. “I was getting a little worked up,” I concede, glancing down at the floor.
His big, warm hands gently grip the sides of my face as he tilts my head upward. My eyes meet his. “You are an amazing woman, Cricket Hill, and if your job isn’t making you happy, then I strongly feel you should consider other options. No, not the option you mentioned about switching stations and moving to LA, unless that’s what you want. You need to look at yourself, deep inside, and do what makes you happy.”
I can’t help but smile a little, and I definitely don’t miss the way his thumb gently strokes the apple of my cheek. “Like maybe become a professional poker player or competitive darts?”
Rueben snorts. “Anything but that,” he teases. “But if that makes you happy, I’ll be there, in the front row, and the first one to offer my condolences after you lose.”
I can’t stop the bubble of laughter. “Lose? I’m all winner, baby.”
He just smiles this heart-stopping smile and says, “Yes, yes you are.”
My arms move before I even consider the consequences. They wrap around his mid-section, the hard plains of his chest pressed firmly against my cheek. “Thank you for being my friend, Rueben.” I pause for a few seconds as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. “I don’t have too many friends in San Francisco.”
I know he’s looking down at me. I can practically feel his eyes on me and the sadness seeping from his pores. “You’ll always have a friend in me, Crick. Always.”
And I believe him. One thousand percent, without a doubt in my mind, I know I can count on Rueben Rigsby to have my back. The fact that we allowed our friendship to turn into a distant acquaintanceship is somewhat nauseating. Even in college, I knew he would be there if I ever needed him. I’ve missed that.
Tremendously.
“Thank you,” I reply through raw emotion choking the very air I try to breathe.
After a few long seconds, we finally make our way back to the food line. It’s a little longer than it was before my breakdown, but that’s okay. We silently stand at the end and wait for our turn.
“I do have a few friends,” I reassure him. “I’m good friends with Penny, my makeup artist, and I have a group of three girls that will hang out together at museums or dinner parties.”
He smiles down at me. “I’m glad.”
Clearing my throat, I continue. “I do consider them to be best friend material, even though I made it sound like I didn’t. We’ve all shared a lot in the last six or eight years. They’ve been there for me when no one else was, and I hope they’d say the same for me.”
He’s watching me again, those chocolate eyes staring deep into my soul. “I get it. I’m happy you have them, Crick, truly. But I think what you really need is an awesome best friend.”
“Really?” I ask, taking a step forward as the line advances.
“Yeah, I do. Someone who’s just a call away anytime you need him. Maybe he wears glasses and is about six-two. Oh, and he’s incredibly handsome.”
I snort another laugh. “Handsome, huh?”
“Incredibly handsome, Cricket.”
“My apologies.” Again, we step forward. “Well, if you ever find that person, send him my way. He sounds great.”
“You wound my pride, Hill.”
“Your pride is fully intact, Ruby.”
Rueben crosses his arms. “We can’t be friends anymore. Not unless you vow to never use that nickname again.”
I gasp. “What? I can’t believe you’d force me to make such a promise,” I respond, a performance worth of an Academy Award.
“Bullshit. Pinky swear, Cricket,” he argues, extending his right pinky.
Sighing dramatically, “Fine, I won’t call you Ruby ever again, Ruby.”
His eyes widen. “You’re already breaking the vow.”
“I haven’t even touched your pinky yet,” I defend, raising my own pinky. Just before I wrap my pinky around his, I add, “Ruby, Ruby, Ruby.” Then, and only then, do I entwine our fingers, sealing the deal.
“You’re horrible. That was dirty.”
“I’m a delight,” I tell him.
Besides, he hasn’t seen dirty yet.
As we order our lunch and step to the side to wait for it, he wraps his arm casually around my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Cricket.”
I lean against his shoulder, relishing in the comfort he provides, as I reply, “I’m glad you’re my friend, Rueben.”
***
We arrive back at the hotel, exhausted, yet energized, still buzzing from the Salukis’ big win and the sugary Swedish Fish.
After we ate our Chicago hotdogs, we decided to head over to a different section of Alumni and visit with fellow classmates a little. Mostly, we both just wanted away from Danny and Ellen. Rueben ran into Dylan again, and they quietly carried on a conversation. I bumped into a small group of ladies from my communications class, so I spent the rest of the game catching up with them. In fact, Jenna and Bridget invited me to have a drink with them before the alumni dinner this evening, which I accepted.
Rueben and I make our way into the elevator, hands touching ever so slightly as I press the button and wait for the car to move. “Today was fun,” I say, watching the number creep up and stop on four.
When the
elevator door opens, he waits for me to exit before he steps off the car. “It was fun,” he confirms as I approach our door and wait for him to use the keycard to open it.
Stepping into the room, the cooler air conditioning hits my arms, prickly goosebumps peppering my exposed flesh. I set my wristlet down on the bed. “I was invited to go have a few pre-dinner drinks with Bridget and Jenna from comm class. We studied together on Wednesday nights through senior year. Do you remember them?”
Rueben tosses his keycard and wallet onto the dresser and turns to face me. “Yeah. Those were two of the women you were visiting with at the end of the game, right?”
“Yes, that’s them. What do you think? Do you want to go have drinks before the alumni do-hicky?” I ask, plopping down on the bed and flopping on my back.
“That sounds good. I was invited to go meet with Dylan for a little bit. I could go meet him now and then come back and shower and go with you for drinks.”
Rolling to my side, I face my friend. “That could work. I’ll get showered and ready while you’re gone.”
Rueben lies back and stares up at the ceiling. “Sounds good. I’m not sure how long my meeting will take, but I don’t think too long. He actually wants to do a conference call with his boss.”
“On a Saturday afternoon?”
Rueben turns onto his side, resting his head on his palm. “The government doesn’t sleep, Crick.”
My eyes widen. “Dylan works for the government?”
“Apparently so. He didn’t give me a lot of information to go on, but he swears it’s legit. That’s why he wants to do the conference call. He could probably tell I was a little skeptical at first.”
“As you should be. But the government? That’s pretty bad ass, Rueben.”
“Yeah, I suppose. I’m pretty spoiled right now. I only have to go to Chicago once or twice a year, and working from home is pretty awesome. They pay good money, too. I’m not sure I’m looking for a change.”
I shrug awkwardly, considering my head is resting in my palm. “Doesn’t hurt to talk to him though, right? Maybe you won’t like their offer, but maybe you will.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” His brown eyes stare straight into me. “So, what are you going to do about your job? I hate to think of you as unhappy there, Crick. If that’s not the job you want, then go find the one you do.”
I sigh. “I know. I think I stay because it’s comfortable, you know? When I first moved to San Francisco, that job was the only piece of the mess that was still mine. I had to break my lease on the first apartment because I knew I couldn’t afford it solo. My dad had to drive me out there, help me find an even smaller studio that was within my measly budget. He bought me a car that was just old enough to not cost a fortune but wouldn’t nickel and dime me yet. I worked at a late-night pizzeria to help offset the starting minimum wage I was being paid. But through all of that, I had the job, the station, and their support. It wasn’t long before I was promoted from afternoon and evening assistant production work to the morning show, and from there, production director.”
“You did what you had to do, clawed your way from the bottom, and made a name for yourself. I’m proud of you, Crick.”
“Thanks. It wasn’t easy, and believe me, there were plenty of times I almost packed up and came home.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Listen, I’m not telling you to quit your job. I’m just saying to think about it. Think about where you’re at and where you see yourself in five years. Ten years. Don’t stay if it’s not what makes you happy. Life’s too short to be anything but.”
His words reverb in my brain. Life’s too short to be anything but happy. Does my job make me truly happy? No. It hasn’t in a long time. I’ve known that, but refused to really look at it. Now, the trick is going to be figuring out what that is and where I go from here. Do I quit my job and find something new? Go back to the production room, starting over again at the bottom? Or stay where I am because it’s stable and the bills are paid?
My heart is leaning one way, but my brain is very black and white. Why would I leave if this job is everything I’ve ever wanted? Success, financial stability, and with great career opportunities for my future. But my heart, that pesky little organ, keeps yelling, “But why do something you don’t truly love?”
Yeah, I have some major things to consider.
But not now.
Now, I need to get ready for the dinner party.
“Thanks, Rueben. You’re the best,” I tell him as I move into his side and give him a weird hug. It’s more of an embrace, considering we’re both on our sides. And that thought sparks memories of waking up in his arms this morning. You know, all snuggled into his hold, his very hard, very thick cock pressed firmly against my ass. Yeah, I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon.
“It’s my pleasure, Crick. And I’m serious. If you ever need to talk, I’m just a call away. I don’t want to spend the next decade barely communicating like the last. You’re stuck with me now, you hear me?” he says, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating against my palm.
“I hear you, bossy pants.”
“Good. Now, why don’t you go do what girls do when they’re preparing for some big dinner thing, and I’ll go meet Dylan. He’s staying at the Marriott down the road, so I won’t be too far away. I should be back by four thirty and we can head out for drinks by five.”
“Sounds good,” I reply, yet neither one of us move from our position on the bed. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, I’d say he’s liking us being pressed against each other again, if you know what I mean. My lady parts are buzzing with dirty thoughts, my core starting to ache with need. Two things I’m still struggling to cope with in light of my friendship status with Rueben. Yet, here I am, ignoring the friend-zone and jumping straight into the wanna-jump-your-bones-zone.
His glasses are slightly askew, so I give them a little push. The side of my finger rubs against the coarse skin on his jaw, which is deliciously covered in today’s stubble. What once was smooth this morning is already covered with a sexy five o’clock shadow. My hand lingers for just a few extra seconds before it drops completely.
“Thanks,” he whispers, his voice deep and husky.
We finally separate, and he gathers up his stuff to leave.
“I’m going to stop by the front desk and get a second keycard. You keep this one with you,” he says, setting the plastic card by my wristlet.
“Okay. Thank you, Rueben. For everything.” I hope he knows I’m not just referring to our talk. It’s so much more than that. His playing along when I ran my mouth about being in a relationship. His humor and ability to make me smile and laugh. And yes, his words of wisdom when I didn’t even know how much I needed them.
He’s a truly great friend.
I wish we were more.
Chapter Ten
Rueben
I walk down the block to the Marriott Hotel, sending Dylan a text on the way. Because of the nature of the meeting, he asked if we could meet in his room. I was a little hesitant at first, but after hearing a brief description of what Dylan does for the government, I admit I was intrigued. That’s why I’m headed to a former classmate’s hotel room instead of taking things with Cricket a step further.
And Lord knows I’m itching to take it further.
Cricket Hill is all I think about. Even when she’s standing right beside me in a concession stand line or when we’re seated beside each other at a football game, surrounded by hundreds of others I could be talking to or thinking about, it’s only her. We’re at this critical impasse, as far as our friendship goes. I’m still determined to show her how beautiful and desirable she is, but if I catch one iota of a hint that she’s not interested, I’ll back off. Until then, I’ll continue to blur the line between friendship and, well, more than friendship.
My face still tingles where her fingers grazed my skin. She has this thing for my glasses, and who a
m I to deny her? If she wants to touch my face and adjust my glasses, I’m definitely not going to stop her. Every time her skin meets mine, I feel this sizzle of electricity. It’s foreign and reckless, but it’s a feeling I crave.
One I want to experience again and again.
Dylan texts to say he is in room 732, so I head for the bank of elevators and take it to the seventh floor. Within a few minutes, I’m standing in front of his door, and knocking, anxious to find out more about this meeting.
He opens the door with a smile and steps back for me to enter. His room is a small suite, complete with sleeping area, a little group seating area, and a big bathroom with Jacuzzi tub. “Thanks for coming by,” he says, closing the door and waving toward the seating area.
“No problem. I admit, I’m very intrigued with what you have to say.”
Dylan pulls out a device and sets it on the coffee table beside a laptop, and not a standard issue Dell or Mac. This baby looks custom built with a palm reader on the screen. “Before I call my boss, I thought I’d run down a few details pertaining to the position itself. Then, if you’re still interested, I’ll make the call. If not, then we move on, no harm, no foul. Sound good?”
I take a seat on the wingback chair, my palms a little damp with excitement and nervousness. I’ve only interviewed twice in my adulthood, and both of those were more of a formality. Those positions were basically mine before I even sat down for the discussion, and while I still feel that may be the case here as well, I know this meeting is government related, probably for an agency with three letters.
It only takes me a second to make my decision.
“I’m in.”
***
The meeting took longer than anticipated. Much longer. In fact, at four thirty, I had to text Cricket and let her know I was still in the meeting. She replied and told me to take my time. We decided she’d go to meet her friends for drinks and then meet up with me at the dinner, which starts at six.
