Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(71)

“You guys rocked, as always,” I tell her as we head into the kitchen.

And as always, my approval of her musically makes Ruby smile. She rewards me with a slow, soft kiss, wrapping her arms around my back, and gripping me close. I lift Ruby onto the kitchen counter and put a hand either side of her, shifting so her legs circle my waist.

“So, it’s your birthday, Ruby Tuesday?”

“I don’t like celebrating my birthday,” she mutters. “All it does is remind me of loneliness. I rarely had friends to share birthdays with; and after mum left, my uncle and aunt forgot half the time anyway.”

“Twenty-first, though.”

“So?”

“I don’t remember my twenty-first,” I tell her. “I know it involved a shit load of alcohol and drugs, and more than a couple of girls.”

Ruby scowls and drags both hands through my curls, and tugs my hair to shut me up. “The birthday subject is closed, Jem.”

“I know why you don’t celebrate, and I have to tell you the reason isn’t true.”

The grip on my hair tightens. “Really?”

“Yeah. Because if people want to celebrate your birthday, it’s because you mean something to them. They want to make you feel special, and you don’t believe you are.”

“Thanks, Dr Freud.” She shifts away from me and attempts to climb off the counter, but I grip her legs.

“I understand. I’m the same about my birthday for the exact same reason.”

“Cool, well if you understand, drop it. Get me something to drink.” She pokes me with her foot.

“But I’m going to buy you a cake tomorrow.”

She drops her mouth open. “Piss off.”

“And a present.”

Her face darkens. “Don’t you dare!”

“Tough. You’re my girl; you’re unbelievably important to me, and I want to let you know how special you are. Is that a problem?” Ruby won’t meet my eyes so I twist her face to mine. “You tell me I avoid how I feel, so don’t shoot down my attempts to show you.”

Ruby’s eyes soften as she recognises the truth in my words; how her attempt at hiding something has failed because of my choice not to disguise my own thoughts. I do understand. I’m telling the truth and I’d be furious if she said the same to me.

“When’s your birthday?” she asks.

“November 13th”

Ruby pulls her phone out of her back pocket and swipes the screen. “I’ll make a note.”

Closing my fingers around Ruby’s hand holding the phone, I place my mouth on hers and press myself closer. Ruby turns her head away and pulls her hand from my grip. “Nice try, Jem.” Ruby nudges my chest with her knees, so I have to step back. She hops off the counter, focusing on the phone as she types, before tucking it back into her pocket.

“Done. Now you can kiss me,” she says, a smile playing around the edge of her mouth.

“Kiss you? After you stripped in front of me earlier, I want to do more than kiss you!”

“Uh huh? Stripped?” Ruby slowly pulls her t-shirt over her head and curves her warm body against mine. I run my fingers across her velvet skin and grab her ass. When she wriggles out of her jeans and sits back on the bench, any thoughts about birthdays vanish as my head switches to the things I like to do most with Ruby.





Chapter Twenty-Nine



Ruby



“I am not going to one of your bullshit awards ceremonies,” I inform Jem as I pull my boots on.

He laughs at me as I search around for my leather jacket. “Ruby Riot will be going to them one day, best get used to them.”

“Screw that. I’m already over all the ‘Jem Jones’s girlfriend’ crap and the insinuation I’m f-ucking you to get a recording contract.”

The man who completes me sits on the bottom stair in his house, watching with increasing amusement. “Now, now, everyone in the industry knows that’s bullshit; don’t get all high and mighty.”

“Plus, they don’t like the foul-mouthed rock chick who throws things at them.”

“I’ll keep anything away from you that could be used as a projectile missile. I’m not paying off another photographer for minor head injuries from flying phones.”

I switch tactics and pull an exaggerated pout. “Jem, please…”

“Nope. You’re coming.”

Sulkily, I stomp out of the house with Jem in tow, as we head to our favourite coffee haunt. The autumn sun hovers behind clouds and the chill of the air heralds winter. Winter. That means it’s only a few months until the tour.

“Naw, c’mon, stop it.” Jem slides a hand around my shoulder and kisses me fiercely on the head, his hair brushing my cheek. “I want the world to see us, to see the changed Jem Jones and the foul-mouthed rock chick who kicked his backside into line.”

I humph but smile as he traces a heart shape across the back of my hand. We still won’t say the words, as if what we have is greater than everyone else’s lesser description. Ours is honest and open, scary but getting easier. Jem slides his hand into mine and squeezes, the simple gesture flooding calm over my growing anxiety. Two months ago, we took our lives, shook them up, and watched as the pieces settled into a crazy, mixed-up Jem and Ruby world. What other place could we live in?