Ruin Me Read Online Free

think he might get that way, do everybody a favor and call it off now.”
    “I follow. I don’t think any of that will happen. He’s known I have feelings for you for four years. Since before I even knew what they were all about. He knows it’s just part of the package with me. And he’s not a jealous guy.”
    “Yeah, I guess not… This whole letting-you-be-with-another-guy thing,” Patrick says. “Would you do the same for him?”
    I grin, guilty. “Not in a million years.”
    He nods. “Anyhow, that’s all I’ve got to say about it. Count me in.”
    “Wow…just like that?”
    He smiles. “Just like that.”
    I feel my body relax. I realize I’ve been hunched forward, shoulders tight, elbows on the table, and now I lean back into the booth’s vinyl padding and push out a long breath. I stare at Patrick, like really stare , because I feel like I finally can, now that everyone knows where everyone stands. I move my foot under the table and press my ankle against his. He presses back. It’s just legs, not even the sexy parts of legs, but I feel energy, electricity zapping through two pairs of jeans and shooting right up my bones into my hair and fingernails. I lose my mind a little. Patrick sips his beer, looking dutifully neutral, scanning the activity around the bar.
    Moondance comes on. I push my shoe off and run my stocking foot up the inside of Patrick’s leg. His eyes glaze over. I’m not trying to tease or torture him. I just want to turn him on, plain and simple. I want proof that he wants me back and that I have the power and also the permission to fuck with our boundaries, shamelessly. I rub the ball of my foot up the inseam along his big thigh, stopping an inch or two from where I guess his crotch is.
    He clears his throat and refills his glass.
    “So,” I say, foot still nestled between his legs. “Are you free later this week at all? Maybe you could invite me over for dinner or something.”
    “I’m a pretty lousy cook.”
    “Well, I’ll bring something then.”
    He nods. “Okay.”
    “Friday? Seven?”
    “Sure.”
    I smile. Friday is perfect. Firstly because I don’t think I can wait more than two days, and secondly because I don’t want this ridiculousness to eat into my weekend time with Jay. I feel as though it’s something I should be fitting in, like a doctor’s appointment.
    We sit, sipping our beer, listening to Van Morrison, not saying anything. I study Patrick, and he seems to study me back. I take my foot away as we drain our glasses.
    “Well, I better get home soon,” I say finally.
    “You good to drive?”
    I nod. “Walk me to my car?”
    “I can’t stand up yet,” Patrick says. “Why don’t you go use the ladies’ or something and let me cool off?”
    I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning, so outrageously pleased that I’ve managed to arouse this man. I take our empty glasses and pitcher and leave them on the bar on my way to the bathroom.
    Patrick’s standing beneath the keno monitor when I emerge and I stare at the numbers to keep my eyes from drifting to his crotch. He pulls the door open and follows me out into the parking lot. I walk to my car and hear him behind me.
    I turn and smile up at him. “Thanks for meeting me tonight.”
    He nods. He looks around us, maybe avoiding my eyes, maybe on the alert for knife-wielding Dartmouth poli-sci majors.
    “Can I kiss you good-night?” I ask, more nervous than I’ve been around the opposite sex since eighth grade.
    “Sure. Maybe we should go behind my truck though.” He nods to where he’s parked, farther from potential prying eyes.
    I put my hand in his and it’s warm and big. He leads me to the edge of the lot and we stand behind his cab, mostly hidden. The parking lot’s got a streetlight at every corner—it didn’t used to, trust me—and I stare at Patrick in the pinky-orange glow and watch the steam of his breath form and disappear in the cold breeze. I watch his lips.
    “You’re