Page 32 of River & Rue

Her lips part on a silent gasp. Her throat bobs. Right before she jerks her eyes away, I glimpse something I can hardly believe: those perfect blues darken to indigo.

Heady satisfaction sweeps through me. The pulsing ache in my back fades. I no longer feel the muddy, lumpy ground. All I’m aware of is her breath, fast and shallow. Her downturned face and the red of her cheeks. Her fingers, tangled in my hair and twitching like she wants to let go but can’t.

I’m a fool.

A masochist.

Scum of the earth.

Because instead of defusing this insanity, I say darkly, “Now we know, Ruin.”

Her gaze lifts, the blue searing. Fiery and defiant. “Know what? That you’re a whiny man-child?”

Her snark brings a dangerous smile to my face. One that makes her stiffen. Her eyes pinch, narrowing.

“We know what it will mean if you pull my hair again.”

My message is clear, the gauntlet thrown. I wait for her clapback, eager for it.

But it doesn’t come.

I’m not sure what to make of her expression, but it’s complex and nothing I’ve ever seen on her face before. Almost surprise but closer to confusion, with a touch of something grim that makes my breath catch.

Whatever it is, I don’t like it. I don’t like that I caused it.

“Rue—”

She wrenches her fingers away so fast a cluster of strands rips from my scalp. I wince.

“My bad.” She tugs dark hairs from the thin gold band on her right ring finger. Her eyes flash up. “That doesn’t count, by the way.”

“Obviously,” I grumble.

The discomfort I’ve been ignoring reintroduces itself. My sweat is cooling, my body temperature dropping. If I don’t get up soon, I’m going to be in a lot worse shape than I already am. But when I lift my knees toward my chest in preparation for moving onto my side, Rue plants a palm on my forehead and pushes.

My head thuds back to the ground.

“Ow.” I glower at her. “Do you get off on my pain or something?”

“Poor baby.” Her lower lip extends in an exaggerated pout. “Be brave just a little while longer, okay?”

She starts aggressively patting my head. Like I’m a dog.

How the fuck did I forget, even for a second, how much this woman annoys me?

“I need to stand up,” I snap. “Either help me or get lost.”

“Shhh.”

Still patting me, she looks over her shoulder. I bat at her hand, but despite her distraction, I can’t catch it. Not even when she whacks my ear, then my nose.

“Goddammit, Rue, I swear⁠—”

“Finally!”

She jumps to her feet and waves her arms over her head. A few seconds later, I hear the mechanical hum of a golf cart approaching.

A familiar voice yells, “Hey-oh! Somebody call for a rescue?”