“Tell me, please. I feel like I’m always left in the dark, like I live in the dark.”
I squint at her. “If you live in the dark, then you’re the brightest light there.”
“Don’t try and butter me up with poetry.”
“Butter you up? It’s true.”
“Then tell me more of the truth.” She twists in her swing so she’s facing me, wrapping her ankle around mine to keep her in place. “Tell me why this, and everything between us, is so complicated when it’s the only thing that makes any sense.”
Her eyes seem to glow in the dim light, locking me in place so that I can’t look away, even if I wanted to.
Part of me wants to, needs to. Part of me thinks that things are getting too dangerous, too risky, and that the longer she looks at me, the less control I’ll have. I feel like control is the only thing saving us right now.
But I don’t look away.
Because we do make sense.
We’ve made sense from day one.
“You know why,” I manage to say, licking my lips. Her eyes drop to my mouth and something carnal comes over them, a heat I feel in my dick, causing me to suck in my breath. “Whatever this relationship is between us, it’s…the things you feel around me, you should feel that around Marco.”
“What do I feel for you?”
“Why so many questions? I don’t know what you feel for me.”
“We’re just friends,” she says. “Right?”
Then she leans forward, grabbing the chains on my swing with both hands and pulling herself toward me, until her face is just inches away. I watch as her eyes search my face with something soft and tender and sweet, enough to make me dizzy.
“Tell me we’re just friends,” she says. “Tell me and I’ll go along with it.”
The world shifts on its axis, everything sliding out of place.
I could kiss her right now.
I could kiss her, and she would kiss me back.
The tension is too much to ignore, the pull between us is too strong to fight back.
The only thing that remains is that tiny sliver of control.
I swallow uneasily, my throat feeling thick. “We’re just friends,” I manage to say. The words sound empty. The words are a lie. “You’re supposed to go along with it.”
“And you’re supposed to be honest with me, Luciano,” she says, my name sounding both sour and sweet. I can’t help but stare at her mouth, those red lips, the pink tongue moving between them. “We’re supposed to be honest with each other.”
My eyes flutter closed and I take in a deep breath.
She’s killing me.
She has to know she’s killing me.
Her words tease me, tempt me, pull me under.
“Do you want to kiss me?” she asks.
Fuck. Me.
My eyes pop open, veins feeling like they’re on fire, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.
“Yes,” I murmur, unable to keep up the lie, unable to stop staring at her lips.
“Now? Or always?”
“Since the day I first met you,” I admit.
Because there’s no point hiding the truth now.
“Then why haven’t you?”
I bring my gaze up, her eyes burning into me.
Before I can stop myself, I’m reaching out and cupping my hand against her cheek, feeling her soft, cool skin against my palm. “Because you are not mine to kiss.”
Ruby girl.
I almost go for it. I almost lean in.
I fucking desire her like I’ve desired nothing else, like I’ve been craving this, her, my whole entire life and didn’t even know it until now.
Just one inch, one sweet inch, and I’ll know what she tastes like.
But I drop my hand from her face.
Her hands drop away from the chains.
I get to my feet and I stumble away from her, trying to take in a breath. My brain feels rattled, my heart is thundering in my chest.
You’re on thin ice, Luciano. A few more inches and you would have broken through it.
I walk a few feet away, keep my back to her, as if I can pretend she’s not there.
I should leave. I should take her back to the gala. I should do a lot of things.
But then I hear her behind me, the sound of her dress brushing against the dirt.
Don’t turn around.
But I do.
She’s right behind me, staring up at me and I’m transfixed, frozen in place. Fear and desire and lust and guilt cycle through me like a roulette wheel and I don’t know where it’s going to land.
I breathe in sharply through my nose, my fingers twitching at my sides, trying to quell the urges running through me, trying to use the last of my control.
“Luciano.”
She says my name, voice throaty and impassioned and promising me my wildest dreams. Her tongue slips out to wet her lips.
The ice breaks.
I grab her face in my hands, bringing her mouth to mine, crushing her in a hard kiss that will probably be my undoing.
Her lips are softer than I imagined, and they open against my lips, against the hunger that’s coursing through me, fueling that need for her that’s gone beyond desire and into madness. With each tease of her tongue, each hot, wet pass of our mouths in frenzied rhythm with each other, I lose myself a little more. My fingers press into her cheekbones, as if I’m afraid she’ll fall through my hands, and my dick is as hard as cement, threatening to ruin me right here in this city park.
She moans into my mouth, a sound that makes me want to do wicked, dirty things to her, her hands going to my collar and holding on, and I know that I’m so fucking close to completely giving in.
But I can’t do that.
Because she’s not mine to kiss.
She’s not mine at all.
Marco flashes through my lust-addled brain and it’s enough to make me pull back, to stop, to try and regain my breath, regain a sense of shame and humility.
“I can’t,” I say, choking on my words. I rest my forehead against hers, my eyes pinched shut. I need to get it together. I can’t be this person. I won’t be this person.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her, afraid to look at her. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I wanted you to do that.”
“You shouldn’t have wanted that, Ruby. You shouldn’t want me.”
“Why not? You’re the one I’m supposed to be with it. I know it. I should be with you,” she tells me, her voice practically begging, her fingers curling around my collar.
“But you’re not.”
I straighten up and turn away. My dick is still hard, my heart still pounding, and she’s still staring at me with those gorgeous eyes that promise me the world.
Frustration rolls through me, and I put my hands in my hair, tugging at them in anguish, breathing in deep as I stare across the field at the swings. “He’s my brother. I can’t do this to him. I’ve already done too much damage.”
“I won’t…it’ll be okay. I won’t tell him.”
My brows raise. I look at her in surprise. “You’re not going to tell him?”
“That I kissed you? No. He doesn’t need to know that.”
“I kissed you.”
“I asked you to.”
“I don’t always do what I’m told,” I tell her.
“Neither do I. That’s why I’m always in trouble. But sometimes that trouble is worth it.”
“Well, it’s not worth it this time.”
My words come out harsher than I meant and I see her face fall. But I can’t take it back. To take it back would mean that what we did was okay, and it wasn’t.
I kissed my brother’s girlfriend.
I’m an asshole.
Ruby shakes her head. “This isn’t fair.”
“It’s not fair to anyone, don’t you see? No one is a winner here. Not me, not you, not Marco. And you and me…that’s just not going to happen. It can
’t ever happen.”
She rubs her lips together, which makes me run the back of my hand over my mouth, wiping her crimson lipstick from my lips. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to that gala. I don’t know how I’m going to handle anything after this.
“I’ll break up with him,” she says after a beat.
“Not on my account,” I say quickly. “Your relationship has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you!” she cries out throwing her arms in the air. “You’re as entwined in this as I am.”
She’s not even making sense.
I have to remind myself that she’s been through a hell of a lot tonight and is more emotionally fragile than normal. She’s worried, she’s scared, she’s been drinking, and she’s trying to forget it all by getting herself tangled with me. That’s all this is.
“We should go back to the party,” I tell her, reaching out for her arm.
She keeps it at her side, looking at me like I’m crazy.
“Please,” I tell her. “We have to go back. Marco is waiting for you.”
“You know he doesn’t give a shit about me.”
“He does care. That’s what makes this so hard.”
Because even though Marco’s been a bit of fucker with her, I know he still does care.
“Ruby,” I tell her sternly. “I know you’re confused right now, and to be honest, I am too. But we have to go back. If you don’t want to tell him, then I support that. If you do want to tell him, I guess I support that too. But we can’t solve all our problems out here. Okay?”
She stares at the ground for a moment, anguish on her brow. Then she relents.
“Okay,” she says quietly.
We walk out of the park together, down the street, back to the palace. Both of us side by side, walking in silence.
I get as far as the entrance, noticing some cameramen still outside, though they don’t see us.
“Listen, you go inside and finish the night with Marco. I’m going to go home.”
Fear widens her eyes. “You’re leaving me?”
“I have to. It’s for the best.”
She studies me for a moment in disbelief. “I still need you. I need to talk to you.”
“Talk to Marco first. That’s what he’s there for.”
“Luciano,” she calls out, but I’m already walking away, heading across the street, away from the gala, away from my brother.
Away from her.
Ten
Ruby
“I think it’s time we break up.”
I stop dead in my tracks and stare at Marco, dumbfounded.
We had just gone for a nice lunch near the hostel, which I thought was a bit strange since he usually complains about the area, and we were walking back hand in hand, talking about Adam Sandler of all things (I love him, he hates him), when…
“What?” I ask, feeling my pulse start to race. I attempt a joke. “You hate Adam Sandler that much?”
His smile is forced, and how did I not notice his eyes this whole time, how cold and distant they are? “Ruby…”
“Are you serious?”
He nods. “I think it’s time. We both knew this was coming.”
“But I’m not leaving for another two weeks.”
“I know,” he says. “Why put off the inevitable?”
I fold my arms across my chest, feeling a cold ache inside, even though the sun is strong and a billion degrees. He’s breaking up with me. Just like that. Takes me out for lunch and the whole time he knew, he planned it. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. He knew this morning, maybe he even knew last week that he was going to end it.
You were going to break up with him, I remind myself.
That’s all true.
After the sports awards gala, and, more importantly, after Luciano kissed me, I’d been agonizing on whether to break up with Marco. I knew that what I felt for Luciano was real but futile. I knew that I couldn’t be that girl that went from brother to brother, and I definitely knew Luciano would not be that kind of person. So that left us in a dead end.
We made perfect sense for each other, but that’s all it would be.
Something good in theory.
Something that couldn’t be a reality.
Plus, there was the realization that if I was feeling that way about Luciano, it meant I didn’t really care for Marco.
The strange thing is, I do care for him. I probably shouldn’t, but I do. I like spending time with him, for the most part he treats me well, I feel comfortable with him. I’m not in love with him, but I never thought that was in the cards anyway. It’s hard to fall in love when you play them so close to your chest.
“I’m sorry Ruby,” he says to me. “I really am. I don’t want things to end, but they have to.”
But they don’t have to. That’s a cop out. We could make it work if we wanted to. There’s always a way. He’s just decided that the way isn’t worth it.
This sudden rejection aside, my major problem is that I don’t have a plan now. I sure as hell don’t want to stay in Lisbon anymore. I don’t know anyone here, my career attempt went nowhere. I’ve texted Luciano a few times after that night we kissed, but his answers were curt, so it’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk to me and wants to keep distance between us. I don’t blame him.
Now where am I to go?
And the bigger question is, how will I afford it?
“I’ve bought you a plane ticket,” he says, as if he can read my mind.
“What?”
“I bought you a plane ticket to Barcelona. That is where you wanted to go next, isn’t it?”
Now I’m full-on blinking like an idiot. “I don’t understand. You broke up with me and bought me a plane ticket?”
You want to get rid of me that badly?
“You can change it if you want. The date and time. I’ll pay the change fees.”
“When does it take off?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?!” I exclaim. “Marco, I can’t just leave tomorrow.”
“It’s in the afternoon,” he says, as if that’s helpful. “Look, I thought I was doing the right thing. I figured you’ve got two weeks left in Europe, and you have that open-ended plane ticket back home. I thought I was doing you a favor by getting you to Barcelona, at least for a little bit. You talk about it all the time, that it’s the next move for your journalism. Plus, you said you have a job there if you want. That’s huge.”
That’s true. Sonia was able to get me a phone interview with the guy that runs the hostel in Barcelona, same chain as the one here. He said I could work there if I wanted to, under the table or in exchange for room and board. I told him I’d think about it, knowing I’d probably be in Portugal to the last minute. But I guess not anymore.
“Well, fuck,” I mumble. “This is a lot to process.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just thought it was better you know now. Remember, I can change it, but I have to know today.”
I let out a mirthless laugh. “You couldn’t have broken up with me earlier? I mean, you bought me a plane ticket, how long have you been planning to send me away like this?”
“It’s not like that. I care about you a lot Ruby. I want to take care of you and make sure you’re okay.”
He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
It’s a small gesture, but it makes me sad.
“But you don’t care enough to want to make it work?”
He gives me a half-smile, brow raised. “Do you?”
And that’s where he has me.
I sigh. “I guess this whole thing just sucks then.”
“It kind of does,” he says. “I’m going to miss you. A lot.”
I don’t know what I’m going to miss.
I think there’s someone else I’m already missing.
“So,” I say, feeling super rejected and awkward all of a sudden. “I guess this is goodbye then.”
“Yes. I guess
so. I’ll email you the plane ticket,” he says, then leans in and kisses me on both cheeks. “Goodbye, Ruby. Keeping on being you. You’ll get where you need to go.”
But it hasn’t happened yet, has it?
He gives me a wave, and then walks off down the street to where he parked his Mercedes.
So that’s it.
That’s just fucking it.
One minute we were a couple splitting a bottle of wine at lunch, the next he’s broken up with me on the fucking sidewalk and given me a plane ticket to get the fuck out of here.
I stand there for a few minutes, watching him drive off, then I’m staring at the street, the shops and cafes, the cars and people going past, and then I realize that I’m going to have to say goodbye to Lisbon too. This place that’s been my home for nearly three months, the first home where I really felt free.
And yet I’m running away from it too. Because I could change the ticket. I could stick it out. But there’s no point. I have to move on, even if I’m not ready to.
I take in a deep breath, trying to ground myself, trying to get excited for the next step of the journey. Yet nothing comes.
I head back to the hostel and go straight to Sonia, letting her know that I’ll be going to Barcelona after all. She asks if I want to get a drink later and I know I should say yes, especially as I never got a chance to hang out with her as much as I wanted to, and I want to drink my face off.
But I can’t commit to that. Not on my last night.
There’s one person I have to see, even if he doesn’t want to see me.
I have to say goodbye to Luciano. I’d hate myself if I didn’t.
And I have a feeling, or maybe it’s just hope, that he’d be upset if I left like that.
So, I go to my room, pack up my bag so that I’m not racing around in the morning trying to find things, then I take a quick shower. I don’t bother with makeup and put my damp hair back in a braid, slip on a maxi skirt and a tank top to beat the heat, sandals, and then I’m out the door.
I’ve become a pro at walking in Lisbon, so I don’t waste time on cab rides and buses, and Luciano’s place is only twenty minutes away. Of course, by the time I end up there, I’m a hot sweaty mess.
I stare up at the building. I know I should text him to let him know, but I’m afraid he’ll ignore it.
The One That Got Away: A Novel Page 12
