Chapter 19 Pants-less, Yet Again
Pants-less, Yet Again
It’s still nighttime when I wake up in a baggy T-shirt and bikini bottoms. My pulse is a steady beating on my skull, and my breath tastes like sour candy that’s spent approximately two centuries in a sewer.
I sit up, ecstatic to find a glass of water on my nightstand. A little heartbroken, too, over the sight of pretzels and Tylenol, because I know exactly who left them for me.
The clock says ten o’clock. The party must be over. I can hear music, though, so I head downstairs to the kitchen, where nineties alt-rock plays for a party of one.
Penn stands at the sink with his back to me.
He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a faded green Lakeville Knights T-shirt.
The kitchen is nearly spotless, with just a few garbage bags set in the corner.
The streamers have been pulled down, beads aren’t hanging from the door anymore, and I no longer have the mystery-cocktail buzz that made it much easier to believe that I was a fun host today.
“Rum Ruby sucks,” I announce, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
Penn shoots a look over his shoulder, then turns back, continuing with the dishes.
I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, my eyes pricking with tears, as—oof—the “bad decisions” line flits back into my consciousness, along with the pained look Penn gave me afterward.
That wasn’t fair. Or kind. And I don’t have a reasonable way to explain myself.
I sidle up next to him and extend a hand. He eyes me sideways, so handsome it hurts. His five-o’clock shadow is perfectly grown out, and his hair curls over his eyebrows.
He hands me a plate to dry and sighs. “You really went for it today, huh?”
“I don’t know what I was going for,” I admit.
“The Party MVP title?”
“I shouldn’t have drunk so much. And I shouldn’t have—” I cut myself off, unable to put my problems into words. Unsure just how much to include on the Things I Shouldn’t Have Done list. “Sorry. It’s all been a lot. The Jeep, the diner…”
“I know,” Penn says quietly. He hands me a bowl to dry. “You don’t have to explain. We don’t have to make it weird, okay? I get it. You’re stressed, and we all make decisions that we—that we shouldn’t when we’re stressed. So.”
He shrugs, acting like my words didn’t affect him. But I know Penn. He’s trying to push me away before I can do it to him, and I feel sick, because it’s been kind of nice the last couple days, loosening up. I know better, though. Loosen up, and people get hurt.
Penn is already hurt.
I set down the bowl and shift closer, sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow. “I really am sorry for what I said. I promise I didn’t mean it like that.”
Penn stares out the window, like he’s debating whether or not he believes me. Then he sets a dish back in the sink and turns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine. If you really want to talk about it, then we’ll make it weird.” He shrugs. “How exactly did you mean that I’m a ‘bad decision’?”
“Penn…”
“Look, I get it,” he snaps, talking with his hands in a way he never does. “I’m still figuring my shit out. I’m me, and you’re you. You, with your dream business, your perfect house, your whole life together.”
“My whole life together?” I huff out a laugh.
“Penn, I don’t have anything together. You and I both know the rink should’ve folded by now.
I shouldn’t even be able to afford this house.
It’s all just…” A game. “It’s complicated, and honestly, I’m not even sure if The Disco Diner will be mine for much longer.
I got an offer to team up with Rollerworld. ”
Penn stills, incredulous. “When did that happen?”
“This week. It’s still in early talks, but…”
The groove between his brows deepens. “You’re not actually considering it.”
I shrug, feeling more helpless than I have since the day I arrived.
I miss feeling like myself—and knowing who that is. I’m tired of feeling like I’m caught between two worlds. Two selves. I’ve been fooling myself, acting like I’ve made any progress when I’m right back where I started: here, in this kitchen, arguing with Penn. Pants-less, yet again.
“Rollerworld is soulless, just like you said,” I admit. “But I might not have a choice. Everything is breaking, Penn, and I don’t know what to think, or what I’m doing, or who I even am anymore. I’ve been so caught up in…” I trail off, the words right at the tip of my tongue: In the game. In you.
Penn stares back, waiting for me to finish the sentence. When I don’t, his gaze drops to the floor. Finally, he manages to look at me again, and he shakes his head. “You can’t give up on it, Ruby. It’s what you always wanted.”
He doesn’t know what I’ve always wanted. I don’t even know if I know.
And I’m not sure he’s only talking about the rink.
“Actually, it’s not what I wanted,” I say. “The whole thing is a fluke, and it doesn’t make sense. It never did.” I shrug. “It isn’t practical. It was just a stupid dream.”
Penn reels back like he’s been slapped. “Right. Yeah, of course. None of us should pursue those stupid dreams, huh? Better to be practical.” He spits the last word like it’s a curse, then looks at me blankly again, like he doesn’t know me. It’s chilling.
He’s misunderstood. I try to explain. “I’m not saying PennPals is a stupid dream. I was only talking about me. My stuff. Yours is the opposite. What you’re doing—”
“Ruby, stop.” He gives me a sad, weary look. “Please.”
This is going all wrong. I meant to apologize and try to make him understand, but I’m only making things worse. My head isn’t clear enough for this conversation, and I can feel a wall building up between us. “I’m sorry,” I say shakily. “I really didn’t mean…”
Penn scrubs a hand over his mouth. “I’m only upset because you’re right.”
I stop, confused. “What?”
“You’re right,” he says. “I’ve been trying to make my dream work, too, but—”
“Penn, yours is different. Don’t listen to me.”
His head hangs. “I lied to you,” he says, so quietly I barely hear him. “About my apartment. Why I’m staying with you.” He meets my eyes again. “It’s not being repaired.”
The room tilts. “What do you mean?”
Penn exhales and leans back against the counter, shaking his head.
“I spent too much money trying to get PennPals off the ground in the beginning. Rookie mistakes. I paid for supplies out of pocket, offered too many discounts, and I couldn’t make up the difference fast enough.
So then, when one of the bartenders mentioned he was looking for an apartment, I decided to let him take my place for a while.
A win-win, right? He’d get a spot, and I’d get some extra cash.
I planned to couch-surf while I saved. But Ryan’s place was too small, and then…
” He glances at me. Swallows hard. “Then he told me that business had been tough for you, and I thought—well, I wanted to help. And it seemed like a good excuse to be around you, so I figured I’d shoot my shot.
” His laugh is small. Sweet. “When you actually agreed to the deal, it seemed almost too good to be true.”
His eyebrows lift, turning his face into a question mark, but I’m not sure what he’s asking. For my forgiveness? Understanding? For me to tell him that he’s wrong and this isn’t too good to be true? That it’s just as real as he believes it to be?
I can’t tell him that. I don’t know what’s real.
Unsure what to say, but hoping to reassure him, I let my body lead and shift to stand between Penn’s thighs, gasping as his hands brush over the strings of my bikini.
He holds on to me while I cradle his face in my hands, staring straight into the eyes that have seen me better than anyone—not just this week, but since we were kids.
He looks nervous and hopeful and lost, and like he wants me to see him, too.
“Stay here as long as you want,” I tell him. “And promise me that you’ll keep pursuing that stupidly perfect dream of yours, okay?”
He nods, his features softening. “Only if you promise to hold on to yours, too.”
I nod back, not quite sure what my perfect dream really is just yet.
Penn kisses me. But then, as if he can taste my doubt, he pulls back. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I really don’t want you to regret it.”
A pang in my chest. “I don’t regret any of it,” I tell him. “It’s just, we’re blurring all these lines, and crossing them, and…” My voice cracks. “I’m scared.”
His smile is small and affectionate, his voice laced with relief.
“Me, too,” he says. “I’ve been scared all week, Ruby, and I was terrified today, by how much it hurt me to think you might not feel the same.
” He swallows hard, his eyes searching mine.
“I’m afraid of how big this feels, you and me.
Because it’s impossibly big. Almost…unsurvivably big. ”
Penn lets out a quiet, nervous laugh, but that’s exactly how it feels. Like I might not survive this. Like, if I’m not more careful, I could lose the person I’ve always been.
Fear and longing fight inside me. “I know what you mean,” I whisper.
“You do?”
I nod, and we press our palms together, both of us watching as our fingers intertwine. Penn kisses my knuckles, then looks at me. Softly, he says, “Ruby, this probably isn’t the right time. Or the right place, but…”
Our eyes lock, and thunder crashes inside my chest.
Penn wants to tell me how he feels—it’s right there, in his wide-open stare—but he’s right.
This isn’t the right time, and certainly not the right place.
Because what he’s feeling, it isn’t for me.
Not the real me. Not all of me. I have a whole other life; we both do.
Twenty years of pain and joy and heartbreak and memories that I don’t want to lose.
This is a game I cannot lose.
If I have any hope of protecting my heart, and Penn’s, then I need to start thinking more rationally again.
Put some space between us, the way I should’ve done much sooner.
And I can’t let him say what he wants to say right now, because I don’t know where that confession might lead, and I really don’t want to regret this.
I kiss Penn before he can say another word, but he pulls back, studying me.
Slow resignation settles over his features. He doesn’t call me out on it, but he knows I stopped him from talking. He knows what I’m doing. What I’m thinking.
That this has all been too much, too fast.
Because a kiss was never the answer. And falling in love with him wasn’t, either.