Page 38 of Gatsby's Starlet
That word sat with me. Real.
“Okay,” I said, softer now. “Friday.”
His hand lifted, not rushed, not hesitant either, brushing lightly against my arm before sliding up to rest just at my waist, firm and warm, like he’d already decided I wasn’t going anywhere.
My breath caught just enough to give me away, and I told myself to steady it as I said, “Drive safe,” though it came out quieter than I meant, softer.
He didn’t move right away. Neither did I. The moment stretched, thin, fragile, and then he leaned in.
The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t careful either, landing somewhere in between like we both understood what this had become, like we had stopped pretending it didn’t matter, his hand tightening slightly at my waist as I leaned into him without thinking, my fingers brushing against his jacket and lingering there a second longer than I should have, long enough to feel the weight of it settle.
When we pulled back, he exhaled softly, his forehead nearly touching mine. “Friday,” he said again, quieter this time.
“Friday,” I echoed, the word catching somewhere between certainty and something I didn’t want to name.
It took me a second to step back, longer than it should have, and when I finally turned toward the car, reaching for the door handle, I glanced over my shoulder—and everything in me went still.
Kane.
He stood just beyond the edge of the lot, half-shadowed beside a car, but there was nothing uncertain about him, nothing hidden in the way he watched.
His gaze was locked on me.
On us.
And there was something in it that made my stomach drop hard and fast, something sharp and angry and… possessive in a way that didn’t belong to him.
He didn’t move or look away and just stood there like he was already deciding something.
My grip tightened on my purse before I forced it to loosen, forcing my expression to stay calm as I turned back to Gatsby, hoping that he hadn’t noticed the shift.
“I should go,” I said, and even to my own ears it sounded just a little too quick.
His eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on it anyway. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” I said, too fast. Then softer, forcing a smile. “Yeah. I just… it’s late.”
He studied me for half a second longer, like he wasn’t sure he believed me, and I felt the pressure of that, the risk of him turning, of him seeing… I stepped closer before he could.
“Friday,” I reminded him, my voice lighter now, steadier. “Don’t forget.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Not a chance in hell.”
That was enough, it had to be, so I got into the car before he could say anything else, the door shutting a little too fast behind me as my hands gripped the wheel and I forced myself to stare straight ahead, even though I could feel it, that stare still on me, burning, waiting, and when I finally gave in and looked in the mirror… he was still there.
***
THE HOUSE FELTtoo quiet when I stepped inside, the kind of quiet that didn’t match the way my chest still felt too full, too aware, like something from earlier hadn’t settled yet, like I hadleft something behind in that parking lot and somehow carried it with me at the same time.
I closed the door slowly behind me, my hand lingering on the knob for a second longer than it needed to, my mind still caught somewhere between the warmth of Gatsby’s hand at my waist and the way Kane had looked at me from across the lot, angry, still, like he had already made a decision.
I turned toward the living room, already halfway through kicking off my shoes when I saw her.
Ruby sat on the couch like she’d been there long enough to settle in, one leg tucked beneath her, her arms crossed loosely but not relaxed, her gaze lifting to meet mine the second I stepped fully into the room.
She didn’t look surprised.
Didn’t look patient either.
