Her voice is a low rasp, the whisper sending goosebumps over my skin. “Please don’t.”
Oh, fuck me with that gentle plea, those begging eyes. Indy sweeps her tongue across her bottom lip and my attention is glued to it. Glistening pink, pouty and what I can only imagine as pillow soft.
“Ry.”
Clearing my throat, I stand from the couch and untangle our bodies in the process. “Good night, Blue.”
Like the coward I am, I rush to my room, closing the door behind me.
Indy is not the type of woman you can simply flush from your system after a single night. She’s the kind to seep into your veins and rewire your brain, making you do and say things you swore you never would. Whether she believes it or not, Indigo Ivers is the type of woman you keep forever, and even though I can pretend to be her boyfriend, there’s no way in hell I could pretend that one night with her wouldn’t completely fuck me up.
13
RYAN
“Camping? Who the hell goes camping in Chicago in the middle of winter?” Indy asks while adding two more sweatshirts into her overnight bag.
“I don’t think it’s real camping. Annie called it glamping, whatever the hell that means, and Ethan said the whole place is heated. We’re just going to do dinner on the grill and eat outside.”
“I can’t believe you, of all people, are down for this. Do you know how dirty it is to camp? Are you sure you want to get in with these people? What if you have to start doing this kind of stuff all the time?”
“I take it you’re not big into camping.”
“Ryan,” she deadpans. “Look at me. Do I look like I’m big into camping? I was hoping for a nice dinner where I could dress up and wear some cute shoes. I like having central heat and a place to plug in my hair tools. Are you positive you want to go?”
I place my duffel by the front door. “Yeah, I do. This might sound pathetic, but I miss being outdoors. I’m looking forward to being outside of this apartment without people watching everything I do.”
Indy’s expression morphs with understanding. “No, that’s not pathetic. You’re right. I’m sorry. That will be nice for you.”
She takes a seat on the bench in the entryway, slipping her feet into her white converse that are covered in stitched doodles.
“What’s with all the stitching on those shoes?”
She holds up one to examine it. “I like sewing and one day, I thought it’d be cool to sew a pattern onto the canvas. They’re little doodles of things from my life. My friends, places I’ve been. That kind of stuff.”
As Indy ties them up, I take a closer look.
An airplane is sewn by the outside ankle of the left shoe. There’s a hockey stick and a Stanley Cup on the right. An ocean and sunset which I assume is Florida. A head of chestnut curls and I could recognize that as representing my sister even from a mile away. A number thirty-eight is nestled into Boston’s skyline for her friend Rio, I guess. I don’t let myself think too far into that because I’m just grateful there’s nothing regarding her shitty ex that she would quite literally be walking around with.
I’m not sure how you’d sew a jackass who made the biggest mistake of his life, but I’m confident Indy could figure it out if she really wanted to.
I’ve always found Indy’s Converse random and a bit strange, but now I find myself wondering what I have to do to get myself added to them.
“Ready?” she asks, wearing a much brighter smile than she was twenty minutes ago when I reminded her she’s going to be sleeping in a tent tonight.
I grab both our bags, sling them over, my shoulder and follow her out of the apartment.
“How many cars do you have?” Indy asks as I drive at a snail’s pace through the campgrounds, looking for our camping site’s number.
“Two. This one and the Audi.”
“Don’t get me wrong, both a Range Rover and an Audi are way out of my price range, but you’ve got money money. I thought you’d go more extravagant.”
“Indy, what part of my lifestyle seems extravagant to you?”
“That’s true.” She nods. “But why? You have more money than you’ll ever know what to do with.”
“It seems wasteful. I save and invest. I have a whole college fund set up for Stevie’s kids if she decides to have them, but I doubt she’ll be using it now that those kids are going to be half the most over-the-top, extravagant guy I know.”
“Zanders’ children are going to be wearing Tom Ford and Prada to school.”
“Unless Vee gets them to love thrifting as much as she does.”
Peeking over to Indy, she wears a soft smile as she leans back on the headrest.
“Half of my income though…” I continue. “I donate to charity.”
“Really? Where to?”
“Well, currently I’m housing this flight attendant who is terrible at cleaning up after herself. Total charity case. Tragic story, really.”
She lightly smacks my arm, laughing. “Shut up.”
“I donate to Zee’s foundation, Active Minds, but my main focus is Chicago’s public school system. Making sure kids have the textbooks they need for class and food for lunch. And part of my shoe deal is that every year my sponsor has to match my donation in gifting said shoe to kids who need something to wear in order to be active. But there’s so much more that needs to be done. It feels overwhelming.”
Keeping my eyes out for our campsite, the silence begins to take over. Eventually, I look over to find Indy staring at me with the softest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
“I didn’t tell you that to make you think I’m some great guy. I don’t really tell anyone about it for that reason alone. Just assume it’s for tax purposes so you don’t get all sentimental over it.”
Biting her lower lip, she shakes her head, but my emotional roommate’s eyes can’t help from shining. “I don’t think you’re great. I have no opinion about this whatsoever. I. Feel. Nothing.”
“You should work on your acting skills before we get to the campsite.”
Indy heaves a broken breath. “Okay, I’ll try.”
I pull into our numbered lot and park next to Ethan’s truck. About twenty feet ahead of us sits three tents on individual platform decks with stairs leading to each one. The tent itself shouldn’t be referred to as a tent at all. It’s more of a tiny house made of glass walls and canvas covering the sides and back to give the illusion of camping outdoors when in reality, you’re completely indoors.
“Damn,” Indy exhales. “So, this is how rich people camp.”
Luckily, it’s an unseasonably warm day for this time of year, but even if it weren’t, the fire is roaring in the middle of the site, and the cabins seem to be plenty warm.
Ron stands at the grill to the left of the cabins wearing cargo pants, a flannel shirt, and a goddamn puffer vest. Maybe there was a better way to get on my boss’s good side rather than having to spend the night out here with him and his wife and oh, dear God. I’m going to have to see what he looks like when he wakes up in the morning.
“Maybe we should go home.” I switch the gear into reverse.