“Very mature of you.” Ruby settled back in her seat, stretching her legs. The car was spacious enough that she didn't feel cramped, which was good. Having to fold her knees up through the course of the trip would've been torture. “For the record, I didn't take offense. I was mostly amused.”
Celeste glanced at her briefly before she turned her attention back to starting the car. “It's nice to know you're the same funny and cool cucumber you've always been.”
“How do you mean?”
“You always seemed unruffled. Nothing bothered you.” Celeste pulled out of the parking spot, her movements smooth and controlled. “High school and all those competitions, you made it look effortless.”
Ruby's smile felt suddenly tight. Unruffled. Cool cucumber. That version of herself didn't exist anymore, if it ever really had. The Ruby who'd coasted through high school on raw talent and bravado, who thought the world would bend to her will if she was just smart enough, talented enough.
That girl had crashed and burned spectacularly in college.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Ruby realized she'd been quiet too long. “No, not at all.” She forced brightness into her voice, the same deflection she'd perfected over years of avoiding difficult conversations. “Just thinking about how much things change, you know?”
Celeste nodded, navigating them onto the main road. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, catching in her hair, turning the brown strands amber. She had elegant hands, Ruby noticed. Long fingers, neat nails.
Beautiful. God, when had Celeste Russo become so unfairly goodlooking?
“A beautiful woman like you couldn't possibly cause much offense.”
The words escaped before Ruby could catch them. She wanted to grab them from the air, stuff them back in her mouth, maybe swallow her own tongue for good measure.
Celeste's eyes widened. Her gaze cut to Ruby, then back to the road so fast Ruby almost got whiplash watching. A flush crept up her neck, staining the skin above her collar pink.
“Okay,” Ruby said into the silence, trying to salvage this. “What's wrong? Why aren't you making eye contact?”
“I am making eye contact.”
“You're staring at the road like it's about to sprout obstacles.”
Celeste's flush deepened, spreading to her cheeks. “I'm shy.”
Ruby laughed before she could stop herself. “You're shy? Celeste Russo is never shy.”
“I can be shy.”
“You argued a case in front of the state supreme court. Braden told me about it.” Ruby twisted in her seat to face her properly. “You stared down five justices and didn't even blink.”
“That's different.”
“How is that different?”
“That's work. This is—” She gestured vaguely between them. “Personal.”
Personal.The word hung in the air, weighted with implications Ruby wasn't sure how to unpack.
“For what it's worth,” Ruby began, raising her hands up in muted apology, “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. The compliment thing. That just kind of fell out.”
“It's fine.”
“You say that, but you're gripping the steering wheel like it owes you money.”
Celeste's grip loosened fractionally. “You're very observant.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“What occupation requires you to notice steering wheel tension?”
