The Notorious R(uth) B(arakat) G(rimaldi)

Chapter 35: Fun and Seriousness

Like when she'd spent the night in the ER on her own behalf, Ruthie came home as the light was breaking, went to bed, and slept until past noon.

"Wake up, pretty girl," she heard, and she rolled over to find Elliott sitting on the side of her bed, a hand on either side of her.

She lunged up and threw her arms around his neck, so happy to see him she couldn't even talk for a few beats of her heart.

She turned away, however, when Elliott pulled her head back so he could kiss her.

"No," she protested. "I have morning breath, virulent halitosis that in the words of the immortal George Carlin, could knock a buzzard off a shit wagon."

Elliott began to laugh, but he let her go so she could go brush her teeth.

"One, who's George Carlin, and two, if I don't care, why should you?" he asked from the doorway of the bathroom.

Ruthie bent to spit her toothpaste out before replying, "He's one of the most talented comedians to ever walk the earth, and just because you don't have standards is no reason why I shouldn't."

She put her toothbrush away and turned to Elliot. "Okay, you may kiss me now," she declared, stepping into his arms and kissing him thoroughly.

"Mm, mm, best kisser ever," Elliott murmured as he let his hands settle on her pajama-clad hips. "Why are you so chipper and happy this morning? Oh, and before I forget, lunch is ready."

"I'm not," Ruthie said, breaking the kiss and stepping back. "I'm trying not to think about what happened yesterday, that's all." She gave a little shiver as she walked to her dresser and grabbed some undies and a bra. She then went to her closet and pulled the door nearly shut for privacy as she got dressed.

"Do you think we should go visit her in the hospital?" she called. "Elliott? What do you think?"

"I'm thinking about how you look in the knickers and bra you were holding," Elliott answered honestly. "Imagining you in your scanties is endlessly entertaining."

"My what?" she responded from the closet, her beautiful laugh following.

"Scanties is a good old-fashioned English word, I'll have you know," he informed her. "Though not often heard these days, I'll grant you. I see no reason for you to impugn my--"

"Besides, you don't have to imagine," Ruthie interrupted. "If you want to know what I look like, just say so, and I'll show you. Ask, and ye shall receive."

She pushed the door open and came out, smiling, in just her yellow underwear and lace bra.

"Whoa, shit, Ruthie, what the fuck are you doing?" Elliott gasped, spinning around so he wasn't looking right at her. But his traitorous mind took a mental photograph of her immediately, and the image was burned on his retinas, possibly forever.

He knew that if he touched her he was done for, so he did the only thing he could decently do.

He fled.

He opened her bedroom door and stepped out in the hallway before he felt the stiffening in his pants, before he felt the blood pounding in his head, and other places. He nearly fell flat on his face when he stumbled as he nearly sprinted to the stairs.

"Chicken!" he heard Ruthie call as he ran down the stairs, off balance and leaning dangerously far forward.

"Whoa, dude, everything okay? Did you wake her up?" Todd asked, seeing Elliott gasping at the foot of the stairs. "Did you tell her lunch is ready?"

Elliott nodded, chest still heaving, hoping the tent he'd pitched in his pants wasn't noticeable to his girlfriend's father. "Yes sir," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "She'll be down in a few minutes."