“Sheesh, what does a girl have to do to get some attention?” I ask, arm draped over my eyes.
“Maybe you need to, you know, flaunt it more,” Ren suggests.
I look over at the algebra teacher and say, “Do you know what’s ridiculous about that suggestion? I shouldn’t have to expose skin to get a guy’s attention. He should be able to see me in a pair of sweatpants and a turtleneck. That being said, if I dressed any sluttier, I’d be naked at this point. The other day, I wore a sports bra and a pair of short running shorts that barely covered my ass while we were installing the moldings, and every two seconds I caught him staring at me. And there was the time where we got tumbled together and he admitted to getting aroused by me sitting on his lap. I mean . . . what the hell else am I supposed to do? Rip my bra off and slap him across the face with one of my tits?”
“I mean, at this point, it might not hurt,” Rylee says on a chuckle.
“He said you aroused him?” Eve asks.
“Yes. Ugh, I swear this is what purgatory feels like. And with every letter I send him, I’m so close to just signing it with my name to see what he says.”
“Why don’t you?” Harper asks.
“Because, I want him . . .” I sigh heavily, “I want him to see me. Not the girl from the letters, who he’s clearly falling for, but me, the girl who serves him coffee. The girl he calls Ruthie.”
Eve clutches her heart. “Oh God, you’re going to make me cry.”
“Me too,” Ren says.
“He does see you,” Harper says. “That’s evident in the fact that he’s checking you out.”
“I see it when we’re at the coffee house,” Rylee speaks up. “I see the smile on his face when you walk in. I catch the glint in his eyes when he’s talking to you. There’s something there, Ruth. There really is. I think you need to pull it out of him.”
“And how do I do that? I feel like I’ve been trying everything to be visible, and nothing’s happening.”
“That’s not true.” Rylee shakes her head. “Whenever I see you, he’s always around, and before you became work neighbors, when did you ever hang out with Brig?”
“Never,” I say softly.
“Exactly. Give him a break. You came in like a whirlwind and you’re messing with his head most likely, especially since in his mind, he’s talking to someone else.”
“I agree,” Eve says. “He talks about you a lot.”
“He does.” Ren nods. “We had a family dinner at the Knightlys’ and while Griffin and I were out on the deck with Brig, he kept talking about all the things you two have been doing. Running, working on the Parlor, how you like baked bean sandwiches. Afterward, Griffin asked me if you two were dating, because that’s the impression he had. I told him you and Brig were just friends, but Brig’s thinking about you all the time.”
“But he’s friend-zoned me.” I look off to the side. “I thought that was only something girls could do to guys.”
On a laugh, Eve says, “If only that were the case.”
“I think you need to up the flirt factor,” Rylee says, the ever-romantic.
“Oh yes, that’s a good idea,” Harper agrees. “You have the friendship down. Now you need to start flirting.”
“Flirting? Ugh, I’m terrible at that. I’m so awkward.”
“No need to be awkward,” Eve says. “All you have to do is touch him here and there. Give him hugs. Smooth your hand over his brow. Give him short, cute glances. Hold his hand.”
“Hold his hand? I don’t think I have the courage to just reach for his hand.”
“Do you want him?” Eve asks.
I nod. “I do.”
“Then hold his freaking hand, hike up your shirts, and when you have the opportunity, pretend you’re going in for a kiss but pull away quickly, heave that chest, and make him beg for more,” Rylee says.
“Yes,” Eve says raising her glass. The other girls do as well. “To Ruth getting her flirt on and heaving her chest.”
“To Ruth, the newest chest-heaver,” they all say together before downing the rest of their wine as well.
Well, I guess I’m flirting now.
This shouldn’t be humiliating at all.
“Have fun the other night?” Brig asks, coming into the Parlor wearing a pair of worn jeans and a simple light blue shirt with a few paint stains across the front. We’re close to closing on the property and finishing up the renovations, and it’s becoming so real. We’re installing light fixtures, something I really wanted help with since I’m not good with electrical renovations. The possibility of electrocuting myself or crossing the wrong wires makes me far too nervous . . . even if the power is switched off.
He sets his toolbox on the counter, and I take that moment to do what the girls said I should do: I walk up to him, wrap my arms around his waist, and give him a hug.
At first, I know he’s stunned from the way he stiffens beneath my touch, and I almost pull away and apologize. But then I remember what the end goal of all this is—to open Brig’s eyes to what’s standing directly in front of him. After a few seconds, he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me back.
“Hey you,” I say quietly, my mind whirling with uncertainty.
“Hey,” he says softly, his hand tracing up and down my back. When I pull away, he still holds on to me, but at a distance. Smiling, he says, “That was a nice greeting. How did I get so lucky?”
Pulling away, I say, “Sorry, next time I’ll be sure to kick you in the crotch as a friendly hello.”
He chuckles. “Uh, I think I’ll stick with the hug.” Leaning on the counter, he smiles at me and says, “You look . . . different today.”
“Hopefully not a bad different.”
“No, a good different. I can’t put my finger on it, but I like it. Girls’ night help you relax?”
We don’t run on the weekends. At least, that was the deal I made with Brig after I started to feel like my legs were running through mud. He agreed to just five days a week with me. On the weekends, he puts in the extra miles to make up for what he’s missing on the weekdays.
“Why do you ask? Have I been uptight?”
“No, I mean, maybe a little, but not really. I don’t know.” He laughs. “Just surprised you hugged me is all.”
“Friends hug,” I say casually, even though on the inside, I’m cursing my friends for making me step outside my comfort zone and push boundaries. Did he actually like it? Or is he being nice? Also, dropping the friend word, solidifying myself in the friend zone doesn’t feel productive toward my end goal either.
Gah, the girls have me all kinds of flustered this morning.
“Cool, yeah.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “So, show me the different light fixtures you bought.”
Here goes nothing. “They’re in the back,” I say, reaching out and taking his hand in mine. I watch his eyes fall to the connection, but not wanting to make a big deal about it, I don’t hesitate. I pull him to the back where the kitchen just had new appliances installed. I left the fixtures in the back on purpose.