A/N: Here's my second Ruby & the Rockits fanfiction. Again, I operate under the assumption that eventually it would have been revealed that Ruby is not David's daughter (but who knows, I may have been wrong guess we'll never know now). Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! –Mac
Disclaimer: I don't own Ruby & The Rockits, or the quote in the italics (though I can't remember what it's from)
"We don't need to touch, just breathe"
Oh, it was so, so, so very wrong. He knew it. He knew it was wrong. He knew just exactly how wrong it was. His head, his mind, liked to set off all the right alarm bells and flashing red lights, every time one of those oh-so-very-wrong thoughts crossed its path. That little voice in his head—his conscience he supposed—liked to scream at him every reason it was very, very, very wrong at full volume on loop, twenty-four-seven. His brain knew that these thoughts and feelings and reactions were wrong, so wrong, very, very wrong.
But Jordan Gallagher's heart was betraying him. It beat out a steady mantra of it is right, right, right. (His heart wasn't the only part of his anatomy betraying him, but he'll leave that out for now). He had tried to ignore it, but every time he was around her, his blood got pumping. His pulse began to pound, steadily telling him that a feeling that good can't be wrong. The sound of his heart beating in his ears overwhelmed any logic thought processes. It didn't help that whenever she was in the same room his brain suffered from oxygen deprivation as all of his blood rushed instantly south. The feeling had become so intense that when around her, the only thing he could comprehend was one tiny word: right. (Oh so very, very right).
That in itself is wrong. He was certain he was going to hell for this. In fact, the Devil probably had a special place marked out for him within the eternal flames of damnation, because it wasn't likely that he would get past the pearly gates with these thoughts on his record. These very delicious, tantalizing, very wrong thoughts. And he was slowly losing control of himself when he was around her. There were moments when he would catch a breath of her perfume—this intoxicating scent that would linger in a room long after she left it. He would breathe it in and his world would spin so fast he wouldn't know up from down. When he came back to reality he would be so disoriented that he would have to use every fiber of his being to stop himself from pulling her into him and kissing her with all he was worth. Those moments of no control were becoming more frequent and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself back.
It was a Friday night. Any normal person with a life would be out living it—at a party drinking until alcohol clouded their bloodstream to the point that they were lucky to be conscious, let alone on their feet, or in the backseat of a borrowed car catching up on their baseball lingo as the windows fogged up—but not Jordan. Gradually, every aspect of his life had been replaced with this gorgeous, glossy close-up of a beaming Ruby, which is how he found himself home on a Friday night while his parents were out for a wild night on the town. Ben was at a sleepover at a friend's house (Jordan was as surprised as anyone that the kid even had a friend—it was mean but he was the older brother, he was supposed to be). Ruby was up in her room with the door closed. Jordan had walked past the doorway more than a few times in hope of catching her as she came out so he could persuade her to join him downstairs for a movie or something—but she hadn't come out once yet.
After awhile he gave up and returned downstairs alone.
He was probably better off with the separation anyway. Given the opportunity of having the house to themselves, did not do well to keeping the boundaries up. They were weak enough as it was. He didn't need to pulverize them completely. So, he pulled out his guitar and tired to put his feelings into a song.
Jordan wasn't sure how long he was down there strumming on his guitar, but he felt like he had gone too long without seeing her face. And though the voice in the back of his head said he shouldn't, he put down his guitar and took the stairs two at a time. He hesitated outside her door, rethinking his actions for a moment. But the moment passed and the next thing he knew he was knocking.
"Come in," Ruby's voice came through the door.
Jordan swallowed hard, took a deep breath and pushed open her door. He stepped into her room and closed the door behind him. He took in another deep breath and traces of her perfume assaulted his senses. Ruby was sitting on her bed with her back against her pillows and her legs spread out in front of her. She had a magazine lying in her lap and her eyes were on him. He had to collect himself as he took in the sight of her. There was so much skin for him to run his eyes over in between her cotton shorts and tank top.
Ruby raised an eyebrow, "Did you need something Jordan? Or did you come to gawk at me for no reason?"
"I…um…" Jordan stuttered as he snapped back to reality, "I don't…no…I was getting bored by myself."
"I would have thought you of all people would have something to do on a Friday night," Ruby replied, ignoring the strange behavior Jordan was exhibiting.
"Maybe I was hoping you would be throwing another secret party," Jordan responded as he found his tongue again. He grinned and laughed lightly.
Ruby rolled her eyes, but laughed along with him. "I'm not making that mistake again."
"I'm surprised Uncle David isn't taking advantage of the semi-empty house," Jordan said, taking a few steps further into the room to stand near the foot of her bed. He shoved his hands into his pockets, "Where is he tonight, anyway?"
"On a date," Ruby answered, "With a girl named Amber or Stacey or Bambi or something…I don't know. I've started to tune him out when he starts to talk about himself."
"Which is all the time," Jordan added with a laugh. Ruby smiled up at him, before shaking her head lightly. He tilted his head to look at her and something propelled him forward. "You're beautiful, do you know that?"
"Jordan…?" Ruby eyes widened in question as he suddenly crawled onto her bed to kneel in front of her.
"So beautiful," Jordan whispered, inching forward. He told himself he was testing his boundaries—seeing how far he could go and still turn back or to see how far he could go before his control snapped.
"Jordan…we're…" Ruby broke off. "We can't."
"I'm not going to touch you," Jordan reassured—whether it was himself or her that he was reassuring, he wasn't sure.
He moved a little closer until their knees were almost touching. She was staring at him with wide eyes. There was this lingering fear settling over them. He wanted to tell her not to be afraid but he was terrified himself and couldn't find the words. He reached out a hand toward her but stopped before he met her skin. He let one finger trace the air around her face—memorizing the places he would touch her if he could. Her forehead, her temples, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, that small indenture at the corner of her mouth, the spot just below her ear, against her neck where he would be able to feel her pulse beat rapidly under his fingertips, the crook of her neck, her shoulder, along her jaw and of course her ruby red lips. If he could, he would follow the path of his fingers with his lips until she melted in his arms. Instead, he leaned forward until his face was just inches from hers. He closed his eyes and let his other senses take over. That unique scent of hers surrounds him like a fog. He could feel the heat radiating off her bare skin. He was aware of every sound she made, every movement of her body, every shift, everything.
Her breathing had hitched when he first reached out for her. Now, her breathing had picked up its pace. He could hear it pushing past her lips in short raspy gasps. He could feel his own lungs tightening, forcing his breath out in ragged pants.
"Just breathe," He murmured, his eyes still clenched shut.
"I can't," She whispered back.
His eyes flew open to meet hers. For a minute he couldn't breathe himself as he saw everything he was feeling reflected back at him in her eyes. He shifted forward and she fell back into her pillows to keep the distance between them. He hovered over her, supporting himself on his arms on each side of her head. His body shook from the effort to keep himself suspended and not touching any part of her.
He felt rather than saw her hand reach out for him. She repeated the motions he had made over her over his features. He closed his eyes against the feeling. He could feel the warmth of her skin even at a distance, it left his skin tingling. He was reminded of the flames of hell that awaited him in the next life. He felt her hesitate—her hand hovering over is cheek. He opened his eyes to watch her move. She shifted her body up, the distance between them dwindling quickly.
Then in a swift second her hand fell to rest against his cheek, skin to skin. At the touch, every inch of him exploded with feeling. He jolted backwards, rolling off her bed and running for the door. Already he was sure there was no going back, but any further and he would have been lost in her forever.