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Summary
Mona rocks back on her shins, tosses her hair over her shoulder and, like it’s nothing, proclaims “Looks like we’re gonna have to switch spots then, aren’t we Ruben?” His heart thuds so loud he’s certain they can hear it. They exchange a look, the bewildered expression on Ruben’s face slowly pulling into a lascivious grin before they both turn to him.
“I- uh, what?” He’s looking back and forth between their faces, waiting for the punchline.
Mona leans over him, reaching out to stroke his arm right beneath the sleeve, talking low like she’s soothing a stray dog.
“Well I just don’t have the right equipment to pop your cherry wee Niall, gonna have to leave it up to Rube.” Her grin is big, encouraging, so contagious that it makes his own lips twitch. “Don worry, I’ll make sure he behaves.”