Chapter Sixteen
Ruby
Beck and I wait on the corner outside the arena as the evening sun loses some of its oppressive heat. My stomach starts to rumble. Guess I should’ve grabbed a snack before leaving the house.
“Don’t worry,” Beckett says to me. “We can get something to eat once the game starts. We’ve got that voucher from Dash, remember?”
Great. Not only does my brother notice my attraction to Dash, but he’s apparently in tune enough to hear the noises my body makes.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “That wasn’t my stomach.”
He stares up at me over his glasses. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Hunger is a normal human function.”
I raise my gaze to the buildings around us, ignoring his little know-it-all self. “Just focus on your own human functions tonight, please.”
“Are you mad at me?”
I glance back at him. When he continues to look at me, unmistakable hurt written in his expression, I sigh.
“I’m not mad at you, Beck. But you’ve been a little too focused on me and who I’ve been texting lately.
Whatever Dash and I talk about tonight is between us.
I don’t need you running back to Mom, giving her a play-by-play. ”
“I didn’t do that!” He holds his hands out in a placating gesture. “All I did was tell her I think Dash likes you. He texted you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t any of your business.”
“But it’s awesome! He’s the coolest and you’re…” He rolls his eyes. “Well, you’re okay, too. It would be fun to see him a lot more, don’t you think?”
Trying hard not to smile, I nod. “It would be nice to see more of him, yes. But we don’t need you trying to be a matchmaker. Your sign did enough damage as it is.”
He shrugs. “It was supposed to get his attention. And it worked—he thought it was funny.”
Sure, he did. I’m just grateful Dash hasn’t teased me mercilessly about it.
“Who thought what was funny?”
The deep voice startles me, and I spin to see Dash moving toward us, grinning down at Beck. “Oh, um…”
“You,” Beckett pipes up, “thought the sign I made was funny.”
Dash bites his lower lip, trying and failing to hold back his amusement. “It definitely got my attention.” His gaze flicks to mine, a knowing smirk on his lips.
Beckett taps my arm. “Told you it worked!”
Dash slides his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, letting his gaze rake over me. “You didn’t wear the jersey.”
The dejection in his voice pricks at my conscience. I look down at my solid blue top. “I thought that was only reserved for when you’re playing.”
A slow smile that melts the nerves building in my chest hitches Dash’s mouth higher on one side than the other. “Is it weird that I like the idea of my name being on your back while we’re out together?”
Beckett makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. I clear mine.
“Um. Maybe we should go inside,” I say with a forced laugh. “We don’t want to be late.”
Dash tilts his head, eyeing Beck and me. “Are you two hungry? We could grab a bite to eat before we head in.”
“Can’t we just eat at the game?” Beck asks, clearly confused.
I tuck a piece of hair that escaped my ponytail back behind my ear. “The cheese fries are his favorite.”
“The cheese fries are good,” Dash notes. “And you can still get some during the game. But what do you think about sitting down to a real dinner first?” His eyes lock with mine. “I’m starving.”
My heart races in time with my thoughts. “Won’t we be late to the game?” I ask as if I care. Truth be told, I don’t. Though Beck may not like the idea of missing the first part of the game, I’m really only here to spend time with Dash and Beck. Does that make me less of a girl’s girl?
“We might be a little late, but our seats are reserved, so we can show up whenever we want. Plus, we won’t be far.” He points to a sports bar across the street. “I was thinking we could pop in there for a bit.”
People mill in and out of the busy establishment, the words painted on the bar’s window boasting a two-dollar taco special.
I turn to Beck. “What do you think? Up for some tacos?”
His expression lights up. “Tacos and cheese fries in one night? Say less!”
Dash and I both laugh as Beck marches toward the crosswalk like a man on a mission. “He’s a hard sell, isn’t he?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little bit. If there’s food involved—doesn’t matter what kind—Beck’s pretty much game.” My little brother stops when he reaches the light post and jams his finger into the crosswalk button.
“So, what’s the age difference between the two of you?” Dash asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.” His hazel eyes glint in the evening sun, sparkling with curiosity.
“I don’t mind. We’re fourteen years apart. He’s twelve, and I’m twenty-six.”
“It’s nice to know we’re closer in age than I originally thought.” He chuckles.
“How old did you think I was?”
He lifts one shoulder as we meander toward Beck. “I don’t know. Early twenties, I guess.”
“If only,” I scoff. “I spent those days busy with business and beauty school.”
“And it’s paid off, it seems.”
Beck turns at our approach. “The light’s about to turn red, I can feel it.” The next second, the crosswalk sign lights up, signaling that it’s safe to start across the street.
“You’re good, man.” Dash holds out his fist for Beckett to bump. The two exchange smug smiles before we all head toward the restaurant as one small unit. “So, you were a teenager when your brother was born? That’s quite the age gap.”
“Yeah. Mom and Dad had some fertility issues after me, I guess. They never thought they’d have another child until—”
“Until this miracle was born!” Beck bows like he’s God’s gift to the world.
Dash lets out a tickled sort of laugh. It’s so close to a manly giggle that my own laugh leaks out despite my brother’s ornery self.
“You are a character, that’s for sure,” I mutter.
We step into the dimly lit restaurant, and my stomach rumbles with another loud complaint. Thankfully, no one seems to notice this time. I push a hand to my midsection to quell the ache.
“DiFranco,” Dash says to the hostess.
“Right this way, sir.” She grabs three menus, then leads us deeper into the restaurant.
I glance back at the other patrons still waiting for tables of their own. We’re led to a small booth in the back corner of the restaurant that has a mini reserved sign perched on the end of the table.
“Here you go,” the hostess says before backing away. “Enjoy.”
Dash must see the confusion on my face because he leans in close to me and whispers, “I had it saved for us just in case.” Chills dance along my arms as his breath tickles my neck.
“Oh. That was thoughtful.” Thoughtful enough to make my heart race.
Beck hops into the booth without a moment’s hesitation and flips open a plastic menu. “This place looks delicious.”
Maybe I stall too long deciding which side to sit on, I don’t know, but Dash gestures to either side of the booth. “Sit wherever you want, Ruby. No pressure.”
I bite my lip and slowly slide onto the bench opposite of Beck. Dash watches me and points to the open seat I purposely left for him.
“May I?”
I nod, finding it hard to speak right now.
He lowers himself onto the bench, then carefully slides closer. The scent I’ve come to identify as his invades my personal space in the best way. If he notices the way I take a deep inhale, he doesn’t mention it. And for that, I’m thankful.
“I’m thinking the tacos,” Beckett says, interrupting my inner sensory overload.
“I hear they’re pretty good,” Dash adds, passing me a menu. “Some of the guys have been grabbing lunch from here.”
I open the menu, doing my darndest to give it a good look-through, but that’s almost impossible with Dash’s warmth radiating my way.
Just like when we took the picture together, I feel myself wanting to lean closer, linger longer, even rub my nose along the column of his strong neck just to get an up-close whiff of his cologne.
“You okay, Ruby?”
His question has me blinking the mental picture away. “Uh, yeah. Fine. W-why?”
Brows drawn, his attention flits across my face. “Because your breathing sounded a little labored there for a sec.” Ever so lightly, he brings the back of his hand to the side of my forehead. “Are you feeling lightheaded at all?”
My lips part for me to speak but no words come out.
“No fever,” he muses aloud. “Does she look paler than normal to you?” When his head swings Beck’s way, I register the ridiculousness of this moment. He’s genuinely concerned about my well-being, and here I am hyperventilating from being so close to him.
Oh my gosh, I think I’m actually hyperventilating.
“She does look a little…skeemish.” Beck hums. “Wait, is skeemish a word?”
“It’s squeamish,” Dash mutters, eyes glued to me. He places a hand on my shoulder and rubs out the tension. “Hey, just breathe. You’re all right. Do you need to step outside and get some air?”
I force a deep breath. Then another. “N-no. I’m okay.”
“You sure?” His tender concern warms me. I give him a shaky nod, frustrated with my body’s weird response. He moves his hand from my shoulder, placing it back into his lap. “I can move if you need some space.”
“I’m fine,” I reiterate, swallowing the last of my nerves. “Really, I’m good.”
The waitress appears with three glasses of ice water and a bright smile. “Hey, there. Can I get you guys some drinks?”
We each place our drink order, then Beck slaps his menu closed with a finality that makes the waitress giggle. “Looks like someone is ready to order.”
Dash slides a glance at me before turning to her. “We may need a few more minutes.”
“I’m ready when you are,” I say, closing my menu, though I’ve barely perused it. I don’t want to be the one holding everyone up.
He eyes me a moment longer. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” I give him a bright smile. He allows Beck to order first, then gestures for me to give the waitress mine. I order the tacos, same as Beck. The hunger I felt when we first arrived has dissipated in the aftermath of my—what even was it? A panic attack, maybe?
All I know is I’m too mortified to dissect it right now.
The waitress leaves and it only takes a few moments for her to return with our drinks. Dash places both hands on the table, clasping them together. “So, Beck. How’s your summer going?”
“Good so far.” My brother lightly bounces up and down on the springy leather bench. “I don’t have summer school either, so that’s a plus.”
Dash chuckles. “That is a plus. I had to do summer school one year. It was the worst.”
My interest piques. “Really?”
Dash nods. “It was the summer after my dad passed. I was thirteen.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say. He must know the same sad ache I feel on Father’s Day, or whenever another event a dad should be at rolls around. “Our dad passed away, too. When Beckett was just two.”
“Man.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”
“I never knew him,” Beck says, taking a sip of his pop. “Ruby says he was the best, though.”
“He was.” My heart swells just thinking of all the memories we made when I was a kid.
“My dad was great, too.” Dash runs a finger along the condensation on his glass.
“He was the one who introduced me to hockey. I fell in love with it almost instantly. Got pretty good, then he passed and…” He pauses.
Shrugs. “Mom made sure I kept at it. Told me that Dad was convinced I could go pro one day if I stuck with it.” He meets my eyes.
“I’m glad she didn’t let me quit like I wanted to. ”
“Me too.” It’s a barely thought-out response, but the longer I let it hang in the air, the more true it becomes. I am glad that Dash didn’t quit on hockey. Glad that he chose to use his fame and become well known in the gaming space, too. Otherwise, my brother might never have found him.
If Beck wasn’t here right now, I’d probably gush about how much he looks up to him, even more so now that we know more about who Dash is as a person.
Maybe that’s why I panicked when he moved so close to me. Because Dash isn’t just an icon on a screen anymore. He’s a living, breathing person whose warmth and generosity have touched more than just my heart. And that…scares me a little.
If I let him get close enough to affect me, who’s to say he won’t leave the kind of mark a girl like me can’t recover from?