“I wish I could. I’m taking a couple of summer classes at the university here and I have a job. I’m working as a bartender three nights a week.”
“It sounds like everything’s going really well for you.”
“It is. But I miss you, Roo. A lot.”
“I miss you too.”
“How about coming out for a few days? Or a long weekend? I could pay for it. I could send you a plane ticket.”
“That would be so expensive.”
“I probably have almost enough. You could come and spend four or five days with me. Just to check it out in case you change your mind.”
“You shouldn’t spend your money on that, Chase. You’ll need it for school.”
“I want to spend it on you, Ruby. I want to see you.”
I try to gently change the subject. I do want to see him. But I need to focus on my goal of writing and practicing and saving up enough money to get myself to Nashville. Detours will only slow me down at this point. “Are you taking some art classes? Or just accounting?” Chase told me in his letters that he decided to become an accountant. That’s what he’s studying. I actually tried to talk him out of it. He used to draw a lot and was always daydreaming about becoming an artist.
“No. No art, just accounting. And I know what you’re going to say, that it’s boring and I’m selling out to go for the stable career over the creative, bohemian lifestyle.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. It’s up to you.”
“I’m not doing it only for the money, Roo. I’m doing it for us.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to see you. And be with you. I could support you while you write your songs and audition.”
“Support me? I won’t need that, Chase. I’m going to support myself.”
“Sure you will. I know. But what I mean is that I—”
“Dinner’s ready, Ruby,” calls Momma from the kitchen. Gigi walks in the front door just then and she’s got a pail full of peaches she picked up on the way home. So now Momma and Rose and Gigi are in the dining room where I’m trying to talk to Chase, discussing how ripe the peaches are and how they’ll make a pie out of them and how Rose’s boyfriend finally called and he’s taking her out tomorrow night.
But I’m almost relieved by the interruption. I think Chase is working around to something I’m not sure I’m ready to commit to. I mean, I haven’t seen him in four years. It’s too long. Too much has happened to me since then to know how to feel. And I’m right on the cusp of discovering myself. I don’t know if I have room for checking out Portland, which might as well be Mars at this point since I have zero desire to live there or even visit. There’s only one place I really want to be.
Nashville may not turn out to be exactly what I’ve been dreaming about all these years and I’m okay with that. But it’s up to me to figure that out for myself and, come hell or high water, it’s where I’m heading.
“Chase. I have to go. I’ll think about what you said and we’ll talk again soon, okay?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I don’t mention I’ll be job-hunting tomorrow. I told him I had a job. This whole conversation has me confused and sort of angsty about my emotions. I shouldn’t be lying to my best friend. I don’t have to make excuses. “If I’m out, leave a message.” We have one of those archaic old answering machines but it still works.
“One of these days we’re going to figure out how to get together again, Ruby. And soon.”
“Of course we will.”
“Did you get your phone yet?”
“Not yet.”
“As soon as you do we can talk all the time and message each other.”
“Yeah. I can’t wait.”
“I love you, Roo. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
We eat dinner and Rose is in one of her rare good moods because her boyfriend finally called and he’s going to be in town tomorrow so he said he’ll take her out to dinner. We all go into the den to watch some show on Netflix but I don’t feel like watching TV. Besides, I’ve missed the first three episodes of whatever they’re watching so I go into my room and sit in the chair by my window and pick up my daddy’s old guitar.
I am brave enough to go back to the house. Those are my only copies of some of those songs. I’ll just apologize for breaking in. But … is it safe? What if he’s dangerous? Or angry?
He didn’t look angry. He looked … dazzling. Muscular. Sweaty.
I try not to think about it.
That dusting of dark hair on his chest. His defined abs and the loose fit of his worn jeans.
I stare out the window at his house in the distance. As I do, a low light turns on.
What’s he doing now? Is he alone?
I strum a few chords, then I put my guitar down and I turn out my light. I lay in bed and I can see the glow of the lamp in his window from here.
The fascinating strength of his big, hard, masculine body.
The dark look in his eyes, like he was thinking … very dirty thoughts.
A while later Gigi comes in. She tells me a little about the ending of the show they just watched. Then she says goodnight and goes to bed. I try to sleep.
I can’t.
After a few minutes, I hear Gigi’s soft, even breathing from the other side of the room.
I didn’t tell her.
I’m not sure why I kept it to myself. Usually I tell Gigi everything. My sister knows practically every thought I’ve ever had.
But this feels different. Overwhelming and new. It would be hard to even describe the way he stared at me. The way we stared at each other. His crazy appeal and that edge of … something else.
Hunger.
Danger.
Lust.
The very reason I’ve been hidden in a locked-up school with a very high fence for four years. Even in the summers, we had to do chaperoned community service, garden, study and pray. To shield us from exactly what happened to me today.
But I’m not locked up anymore.
His eyes, so riveted. His wind-blown hair with the ends bleached gold by the sun. The line of dark hair that disappeared under his button fly…
It’s honestly not something I’ve ever thought about before, how men are built so differently to women. How fascinating those differences are. I wish I could have stared at him a little longer.
What’s even more fascinating is that a five-second glimpse of a shirtless red-blooded man can make you feel … thirsty. To taste.
God.
Ruby.
Stop.
Those kind of thoughts will only get me into trouble.
But my shame at being caught wet and practically naked in his house today has softened into something else altogether. The sun-touched memory of that lusty, animal look in his eyes makes me squirm under my sheets. I quietly kick the sheet off. It’s so hot tonight. I wish I could take off my cotton nightgown and lay naked in the moonlight.
Which is crazy.
And that’s not all. I feel that low pulse begin to gently throb, like it did earlier this afternoon. That awakening sweet heat.
Outside the window, the moon glows full, shining its silver light onto the walls of our bedroom.