Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia
17
Ruby
Three Years Before
Ruby & Bennett are Twenty-Seven Years Old
“Bennett?”
“Hmm?”
“I feel ridiculous.”
“It’s a pirate festival. I think you’re supposed to.”
“Not this ridiculous.”
Bennett chuckles from outside the dressing room, but I’m not enjoying this nearly as much.
I stand in front of the mirror, running my hands over the flowing off-the-shoulder white dress. On its own, it might be fine, but the tied corset overtop, along with my very padded bra, accentuates the small breasts I do have. I’m a busty pirate wench through and through.
When Theo suggested the pirate festival, I figured we’d just be drinking.
I was wrong.
She said we were going all out, and after I saw the outfit she’d already bought, I had a better idea of what all out meant. It meant having my very tiny, barely there girls all out. I swear they’re practically reaching my chin, knocking against my face.
“I need another corset,” I say.
“Rubes, I’m sure you look fantastic.”
“How do you know? You can’t even see me.”
“I don’t need to see you to know that.”
“Ha. Your mom taught you well.”
He snorts.
Bennett’s the worst shopping partner because he claims to like everything I wear, and he keeps hitting on the mannequins, thinking he’s being funny. Admittedly, it is hilarious. But that’s beside the point.
I’ve been working and babysitting so much that I waited until the last minute to shop for clothes, and none of my friends who have decent fashion opinions could come with me. So, now, I’m here with my best friend who wouldn’t know the difference between an A-line dress or a drop waist. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t know the difference either.
“What are you wearing to this thing?” I ask through the door, still cringing at my chest. “Can I wear that instead?”
“Well, I’m not wearing a corset—I can tell you that much.”
“Why not? Join the fun.”
He laughs. “I don’t hate myself nearly enough.”
I reach around my back and feel for the strings.
“I’d like a little less self-hatred right about now,” I say, waving my hand around, hoping to snag just one knot apart. “Just the teensiest amount.”
The attendant tied me up before going to help another customer. I didn’t realize I’d be locked in a pseudo-prison for ten minutes until she came back. I try to tug at one string, fumble, then tug again. I groan.
“You all right in there?” Bennett asks.
“Your dad had better be worth all this.”
Bennett barks out a laugh. “You’re not dressing up for him, are you?”
“Hilarious,” I deadpan.
“Can I help at all?”
I let out a laugh that fades into a whine, flailing at the strings more. My face heats. It’s so tight.
Oh God, I’m trapped.
“Rubes?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice cracking under the rising panic. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
I wince. “Help me out of my corset?”
I wait a couple seconds. He doesn’t respond.
Wait, did that jerk leave me here?
“Bennett?” I whine.
His knuckles rap on the door, making me jump. “Open up.”
I catch one final look at my ridiculous chest leaping for freedom, then pull back the lock.
Bennett, biting the inside of his cheek, swivels his eyes over to me. You would think someone just told him it’s November 39 or that Buzzy the Bear could fly because his eyes are wide and they’re staring—right at my chest. And they linger—like, really linger—before snapping back up.
Bennett was totally checking me out.
I wince. “It’s super booby, isn’t it?”
He swallows. “No. Uh, I like it.”
“Really?” I turn around to look in the mirror.
At first glance, I guess it isn’t as bad as I thought it was. My boobs feel higher than they actually are. I don’t see the person I once saw, but she still looks like someone my mom might call a hussy.
Then, from behind me, I see Bennett staring too. His whole body is stiff, like a beautiful statue frozen in time—a tortured one. The hand by his side is clenched tight. His jaw shifts imperceptibly. And there’s a small line between his eyebrows as he concentrates on every bit of my figure.
I feel like I’m on fire.
I don’t know this Bennett. This Bennett that looks at me like he looked at Sarah or Sadie or whatever other S-named girl he dated in high school. The Bennett that looks in pain at the sight of me.
“Maybe I’ll keep the corset,” I blurt out.
He raises his eyebrows, shaking his head from whatever dazed state he was in.
I made my best friend dazed?
“Really?” he asks.
“Yeah, I think so. It’s more comfortable than I thought.”
Bennett’s jaw tics at the motion.
“Well, comfort is key,” he finally says, chuckling, low and rumbly and so delicious, scratching behind his head.
Interesting.
“Well, I’m gonna—”
“Wait!” I hold out my hands, slamming the door shut before he can step out.
His eyes, deep brown and intense, slowly move back to me, lingering on my freckles more than he normally might.
“Untie me first. Please? It’s a little tight.”
Okay, sure, I’m pushing my limits, and the heat slowly covering my cheeks tells me as much. But nobody—and I mean, nobody—has looked at me like that. I was with a few men in college, but they didn’t have the narrowed eyes that Bennett gets. The small whip of his tongue running over his bottom lip. And it’s intoxicating to see that type of look pointed in my direction.
I turn on my heel before I know whether he’s giving me that same heated stare he secretly gave in the mirror.
I feel his fingers start to untie my corset. String by string. Loop through loop. The heat of his palms radiates through the fabric. My hair rustles under his low, uneven breathing that exhales onto my neck. I can feel the wispy hairs on the nape of my neck rise.
Then, he growls out a low, “Got it.”
Some of my breath comes back when the corset falls, but then his palm splays over my back as he lowers it slowly down my waist. We’re in such a tight space, and every movement is like a sting against my skin. Every breath sends goose bumps rolling over my flesh.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“Um, so …” I feel him take a step back and hear his hand run through his hair. “I’ll be back with a …”
“I could use a belt.”
“A belt?”
“Mmhmm. Big pirate belt buckle.”
“Cool.”
“Mmhmm,” I say, still having my lip tucked in. When he doesn’t move, I ask, “Bennett?”
“Yep. Yeah. I’m gonna go look for that.”
When he finally shimmies out the door and shuts it behind him, I lock it back, lean against it, and shut my eyes.
This weekend is going to be the end of me.
No, my super-hot best friend with his sex-filled gaze will be the end of me.