“I AM GOING TO WALK INTO TRAFFIC.”
Ava pushes a cup into my hand. “Drink this. You look dehydrated from all the sexual tension.”
“It was coffee,” I insist.
“No,” Sienna corrects gently. “It was spiritual intercourse.”
I choke on my own saliva.
We step into the elevator, and the doors close behind us. Great. Now I am trapped with my three emotional-support gremlins.
Ava presses the button for our floor, then turns to me.
“So?” she asks. “What did he DO?”
I take a deep breath.
Do not think about him saying he listens when you talk.
Do not think about him leaning closer like he wanted to taste your next sentence.
Do not think about him saying,I’m pursuing you.
Do not think about…
“—Ruby??”
I blink. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”
“SINNERS’ THOUGHTS,” Trey mutters.
“No,” I say. “ABSOLUTELY NOT.”
Sienna crosses her arms. “Babe. We can smell the desire on you. It’s like a pheromone fog.”
“I’m not attracted to him!” I hiss.
All three of them blink at me like I just screamed that gravity isn’t real.
Ava leans closer. “Ruby. You’re literally shaking.”
I look down at my hands.
Okay, yes. Fine. They’re shaking.
But they’re MY hands. They can shake if they want. They’re free.
“It’s just adrenaline,” I argue.
“From what?” Trey asks. “Coffee? Or the way he said let me take the lead.”
My face heats.
“I didn’t tell you that,” I whisper.
“You didn’t have to,” he says smugly.
The doors open, and I practically sprint to my desk before they can pry anything else out of me.
