Shy. I told her I was shy.
Celeste gripped the steering wheel, resisting the urge to bang her forehead against it. Ruby probably thought she was completely unstable. Hot and cold, hostile then apologetic, and now apparently some shrinking violet who couldn't handle basic human interaction.
The truth was infinitely more complicated.
The truth was that the moment Ruby had slid into the passenger seat, Celeste's brain had short-circuited. Because somewhere between high school and now, Ruby Langley had become absolutely devastating. The short blonde hair that should've looked severe but instead framed her face perfectly. Those blue eyes that seemed to catch every shift in light. The way she moved, all loose-limbed confidence and easy grace.
Celeste had spent the first ten minutes of the drive hyperaware of every small detail. The way Ruby's jacket sleeve rode up when she reached for the door handle, exposing the pale skin of her wrist. The faint scent of her shampoo—something soft and clean. The faint scar above her left eyebrow that Celeste absolutely should not have paid enough attention to notice.
So no, it wasn't entirely accurate to say she was shy. More like she was terrified that if she made eye contact for too long, Ruby would somehow read the attraction written all over her face in neon letters.
“Many lawyers are actually introverted in interactions with people in their daily lives,” she found herself blurting out long after the earlier conversation had ended and they had descended into peaceful silence.
Ruby paused and blinked, probably wondering what unfinished line of conversation had precipitated Celeste’s delayed outburst. Once she’d regained understanding, she laughed.” One would think the top accomplished ones would have worked it all out of their systems by now.”
“You're mostly right. Years of courtrooms and advocacy tend to work that out of a person. And yet…”
“And yet?”
And yet being near you makes me feel like I'm a teenager again and don't know what to do with my hands.I also can't stop noticing the way sunlight catches in your hair. I'm apparently losing my mind.
Naturally, she couldn’t say any of that and so instead settled on “Never mind.”
Ruby studied her for a moment, then sat back. “Fair enough. Mysterious works for you.”
Celeste very much doubted that, but she wasn't about to argue. When she said nothing, Ruby sighed.
“Listen, I should probably apologize too. For high school. I was such an insufferable know-it-all. All those cocky comments, the constant competition, I was a thorn in your side.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“No, I do. I know I was.” Ruby ran a hand through her hair. “And I want you to know I'm not that person anymore. I'm not trying to one-up you or prove anything. I'm just—I'm different now.”
Celeste glanced at her, caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. “Actually, the time you were around was good for me. I liked the competition. It pushed me to work harder, think smarter.”
“Even the cocky comments?”
“Well.” Celeste felt a smile tugging at her mouth. “I could've done without those.”
They both laughed, and something in the air between them shifted. Eased up more.
“Also,” Ruby said, “I don't know if this is comforting or weird to tell you, but Gerald might have asked me to prom twice, but nothing happened between us. I'm a lesbian.”
The words hung in the air like a bomb with a delayed fuse.
Celeste's brain scrambled to process this information. Ruby was a lesbian. Ruby, who was currently sitting less than two feet away looking unfairly attractive, was a lesbian.
“I've known since I was about thirteen,” Ruby continued, apparently unbothered by the silence. “So you can rest assured that nothing would've ever happened with Gerald anyway. He was sweet, but extremely not my type. Being male and all.”
Celeste managed a noise that might've been acknowledgment. Her mouth had gone dry.
“Also, between you and me?” Ruby grinned. “He was a terrible dancer. You dodged a bullet.”
“Good to know.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes. Celeste's mind was racing, thoughts colliding like bumper cars. The fact that Ruby was a lesbian changed nothing and at the same time changed everything. If there was one thing it did, it made the attraction she was already feeling infinitely more complicated.
“Hey, can we stop at the next gas station?” Ruby asked. “I need to use the bathroom. Should've gone before we left, but I got distracted by Jackson's very detailed lecture on road trip snacks.”
