Chapter One Ruby #2
“That’s a very kind way of saying it, Lauren.”
The facial expression she made was half smile, half grimace, because she knew it was true. I didn’t just have walls up—I was wrapped in barbed wire, encased in a ten-foot block of concrete, surrounded by a deep moat teeming with rabid sharks.
And it was lonely.
I didn’t want to be there anymore, but the longer I sat, the scarier all those barriers got. Bigger and bigger in my mind.
Lauren started cautiously. “Sometimes we need to be alone in order to loosen up a little. Maybe that would help you, even if you don’t use that.”
That being the box, still doing pulsing vibrations on my living room floor.
“I don’t know,” I said skeptically. “I don’t even know what I’d be able to think about to distract me from all the . . . moving parts.”
God, I sounded pathetic, didn’t I?
What thirty-year-old woman was afraid of a sex toy?
Lauren’s eyes sparkled as she laughed. “What about when you were younger?” she asked. “Did you ever have any harmless crushes or teenage sweethearts?”
My answering laugh was wry, and I rubbed at my forehead. Two faces instantly popped into my head. Two versions of the same face, really.
“There was this family who lived behind us for years.” I twisted my fingers into the fringe of the throw pillow resting against my thigh.
“They had twin boys. We didn’t go to the same school, and they were a couple years older than me, but I always climbed this big tree in our backyard and watched them.
They were constantly practicing football or soccer or baseball. They were good at everything.”
She smiled. “Did they know you were there?”
“Oh yeah. The younger one, Griffin—or younger by a couple minutes, I guess—he was always teasing me. He’d climb up into the tree and snatch my book away, trying to coax me down.
He was such a pest.” I shook my head. “The other one—he was more serious. Never teased me the way his brother did. But when he smiled . . .” I laid a hand on my stomach. “I felt it right here.”
“You didn’t feel it when the younger brother smiled?”
“I was too busy being annoyed,” I answered dryly.
“But yeah, I felt it watching him too. They were just . . . everything I wasn’t.
Strong and fast and outgoing, and everyone loved them.
We moved away when I was fifteen, so it’s not like anything happened, but sometimes I think about how I felt sitting in that tree, and I get sad that I didn’t just do something about it. ”
“You can do something about it now.”
“Can I? I just want . . .” My eyes burned, and ruthlessly, I willed the buildup of tears away. That was within my power, within my control. “I’m sick of not knowing what any of it feels like, Lauren. When I’ve tried . . .” The way my voice trailed off really pissed me off.
Wary and unsure. Quiet.
It was timid.
Ugh. Screw that. I was so sick of feeling that way.
And yet, despite the tumultuous reaction, I couldn’t stop it, no matter how badly I wanted to.
But her face was soft with sympathy, as was her voice when she spoke. “I know, sweetie.”
The difference in our ages was just shy of a decade, but that nickname, only brought out when she was feeling particularly motherly, tested my ability to hold back those tears.
My dog, Bruiser, wandered down the hallway—after he’d likely slept sprawled on top of my bed—drawn by the noise from the box.
Bzzz. Bzzzzzzz.
His head tilted as he approached, his butt sticking up in the air as he crouched down in a playful pose to inspect the package.
“I swear, if he pulls that out and asks me to play fetch with it . . . ,” I said in a warning tone.
Lauren reached over to grab the box, deftly pressing a button to stop the vibrating, and I exhaled a short laugh. “Thank you.”
Determination blazed in her eyes. “You need a professional. You need someone who can help you build your confidence and show you that you have the ability to let someone in again.” This time, she was the one who tapped a hand to my chest, but she did it gently. “You have it all right here.”
Maybe it was because I’d been an avid reader my entire life, but trying to get a mental picture of what a word meant helped conceptualize the way it was affecting me—for good or for bad.
What did desire look like?
Was it the flexing muscles of a tanned, strong boy with a big smile and knife-sharp jaw? Was it dancing in a dark corner and not worrying that anyone was watching? Was it kisses that stole your breath and greedy hands tearing at clothes?
And love. What did that look like?
Parents hanging your test on the fridge or hugging you when you got the acceptance letter for your master’s program. Friends giving gifts to help you push past your self-inflicted boundaries. A neighbor bringing soup because she knew you were sick.
I couldn’t picture love in other forms. Not in my own day-to-day.
Control, though . . . I could picture that so very clearly as I sat cross-legged on the floor.
A miniature version of myself, held in a tight, giant fist of my own making. No matter how I squirmed or fought to get free, every movement was futile. Like King Kong about to ascend a giant spire with the screaming maiden in his hand.
Except I was the maiden and I was King Kong. Wasn’t that a head trip?
For years and years, I’d slowly increased the strength of the grip on my own life until there was no breathing around it. No ignoring its presence. It was a stifling jail of my own making, and I sat in the cell, key in hand.
I was entering my thirtieth year, and I’d never really let myself live. There were no crazy stories, no good memories that I wanted to play in my mind over and over. And I wanted them. Just a few.
“What do you mean, a professional?” I asked warily. Bruiser flopped his big body onto the floor next to me, and I smoothed my hand over the sleek muscles on his side, smiling faintly as he turned onto his back and exposed his belly for scratches.
“Think of it like any problem that needs solving,” Lauren said carefully. “When there’s something wrong in our house, we call an expert to fix it, right? I wouldn’t try to update the wiring or put in new plumbing by myself. I’d need someone who knows what they’re doing.”
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my forehead. “I should know better than to drink around you. I feel like I’m going to regret this entire conversation.”
Lauren smacked my thigh with a laugh. “You had one drink, calm down. Plus, you know I’m right.”
I cut her a look, pairing it with a haughty sniff. “I know no such thing. You’ve yet to arrive to your point for me to make that kind of judgment.”
She inched closer, angling her legs toward me.
“Everyone who knows you knows that you are funny and smart and beautiful.” When I rolled my eyes, she merely raised an eyebrow like I’d proven something.
“But you need help believing those things. You hide, Ruby, and I don’t want to hear a single argument, because you know it’s true.
Your confidence took a hit, and I understand why—that guy was a giant fucking douchebag.
He was the absolute worst choice for your first, and I hate that for you. ”
I kept my eyes down. “He seemed nice enough at first.”
“They always do.” Lauren covered my hand with hers. “But you were never comfortable around him, were you?”
I bit down on my bottom lip and eventually managed a quick shake of my head.
“You need someone who knows how to make you comfortable and understands how to build your confidence.”
“And where, pray tell, will you find such a man among our nonexistent dating pool in town?” The glint in her eye made me nervous. Then again, every idea Lauren had made me a little nervous. “Oh gosh, what?”
She pulled out my laptop and opened a private browser. “I have an idea that you will probably hate at first, but if you fire up that gorgeous logical brain of yours, you’ll see it’s the very best possible solution.”
Her serious tone had me sitting up straighter, eyeing her doubtfully. “Okay.”
Before Lauren started typing, she gave me a quick, searching look. “How badly do you want to do something about this? Because if you’re genuinely content right now, I’ll back off.”
I laughed quietly. “It’s not that easy, Lauren.”
“It is that easy.” Something in her gaze made it impossible for me to look away. “It is, Ruby.”
“How?” I heard myself whisper.
Then her smile spread, something so devious that I probably should’ve ran scared right then just to avoid the knowledge of whatever her brain was plotting. “I need you to trust me.”
“I really, really don’t.”
Lauren grinned, then turned the laptop screen around. Leaning in, I had to squint to read the print. When I did, I looked back at her with wide, horrified eyes.
“You cannot be serious.”
“It’s either this, or I leave you alone with the giant dildo, Ruby. Which is it gonna be?”
For a moment, I actually considered both options, envisioning that giant fist around my own life, squeezing to the point of danger.
Wasn’t I already in danger, though? I’d lived thirty years, sure. But what had I really experienced?
I’d lost the ability to allow myself anything spontaneous in life, because I was afraid of what might happen. It was so easy to imagine standing up in front of a group of people and making my own small admission: Hi, my name is Ruby Tate, and I’m a control freak.
Blowing out a slow breath, I looked at the pink-and-white-wrapped box, then back at Lauren’s face.
“Fine. Tell me what to do next.”