Ruby and Clint
It had been a while since Ruby had been single at a party and Ruby was determined to enjoy herself. She had the freedom to flirt as she pleased, and the more she drank, the easier it became. She didn’t owe anyone there anything and once she got bored, she moved on, glad to know she wouldn’t have to share classes with them the next day. In fact, unless they came into Moxie’s, she probably wouldn’t see them until the next party, whenever that was. This was probably the last big hurrah, that everything else would be small and spaced out, the house parties taken over by the incoming senior class. While a part of her was ready to move on, she knew she would miss this. Responsibility didn’t appeal to her at the moment.
And yet, when she spotted Clint in the crowd, she knew she should say something. Not sorry for pouring a drink over his head. Not that she missed him and hated him for it. But maybe, if he’d had a nightmare like she had, that she’d found a way out. She watched him for a while, considering it, second guessing herself, and then being pissed that she cared at all. Fucker deserved to have nightmares. She’d all but made up her mind when she accidentally caught his eye and felt herself folding. As much as she wanted to screw him over, she didn’t actually want him to die. As she gestured for him to step away from the group and join her, Ruby decided she hadn’t had near enough to drink. She needed to remedy that pronto.
Clint was not feeling well, but he’d been hoping going to a party and doing something normal would help. It wasn’t a physical illness, but more of a mental exhaustion and paranoia that he hadn’t been able to shake since the dream he’d had a couple of weeks before. It had greatly impacted Clint’s sleep and sense of safety, and he felt a little like he was losing his mind. It had been the Dark Man, come back for him specifically in his dreams, and all of the puncture wounds from the needles and golf tees and thin knives that the bowler hat demon had driven into his arms and legs had still been there when he’d woken up, bleeding all over his sheets. It was like the Dark Man had chosen spots that wouldn’t be fatal, but would instead cause the maximum amount of pain. Clint had woken up screaming and terrified and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep for a few days afterward, until pure exhaustion took over. He’d told his parents and everything he had a bad flu, but that only worked for so long.
His skin was still dotted with healing wounds, so he was in jeans and a light hoodie at the beach bonfire. To make matters worse, Clint had only been there a few minutes before he spotted Ruby, and then Jules had shown up with Jasper Lucas, and Clint was just considering walking into the sea to get away from the awkward churning in his gut. He’d kept a safe circle of dudes around him, pretending to be interested in his former teammates’ stories and boyish jostling while he tried not to look guilty and scared and miserable.
Clint’s heart sank when he accidentally met Ruby’s eyes and she gestured at him. They were over, of course, and he’d deserved to get dumped and everything ... what did she want with him now? She looked good, did she want to rub that in his face? He probably deserved that too. Reluctantly, Clint pulled away from the group of jocks and started to follow Ruby toward the drink coolers, his beer clutched in one hand. He gave her plenty of space, only forcing out a “hey” once he was in earshot.
Ruby selected a fresh beer for herself, keeping the cooler between them as her eyes swept over him. Did he seem a little less than a hundred percent? She liked to think that was her doing, that he felt like shit for what he’d done to her, but she suspected it was more than that. He deserved to feel guilty. He deserved to watch her go home with another guy while looking her best. But he didn’t deserve to be haunted to death. “You sleeping okay?” she asked, eyes flicking up to his, looking for a flicker of recognition. If he hadn’t been visited by the Dark Man, then she’d drop it and move on.