Not My Ruby

Summary

Catching up with my best friend over dinner, I slid into the curved leather booth right beside her, just like I always did.

Halfway through our appetizers, her silver fork slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor. She immediately turned to me, clearly annoyed.

"Jenna, you know I'm a southpaw. Why did you slide in on my left side? Our elbows are going to bump all night."

My hand froze halfway to the floor.

Ruby was indeed left-handed.

But we had a secret pact. She had sworn to me in private that whenever we shared a meal, she would strictly use her right hand.