Chapter 4
AMY
By Monday, I’m back to functioning-adult mode. Mostly.
But I can’t get Eli’s voice out of my head. The softness when he called me brilliant. The way he said he liked my voice.
It stuck with me more than anything Maya could’ve said. It’s not just her voice echoing in my head now. It’s his too.
And maybe that’s what’s making me braver because even in the middle of a flare-up, even when everything hurt… I felt lighter.
That kind of levity? That kind of peace? It’s rare, and I want more of it. More of him.
We haven’t really talked since, not properly, and I keep replaying those voice notes like a weirdo. And with every listen, it feels a little less terrifying to want more.
We’re just friends. Nothing more.
Sure, my feelings for him have been getting a little… ambiguous lately.
But maybe that’s exactly why I should see him face-to-face.
A video call could be the reality check I need. Maybe once I see him properly, I’ll get over this ridiculous crush.
By the time I get home, feed Pea, shower, change into pajamas, and microwave my ready meal, I’ve made up my mind.
I’m going to offer a video call. Come what may.
I grab my phone as I sit down to eat my stew, only to see a new message from Eli waiting on my screen.
My heart jumps at the sight of his name.
Eli: Today sucks bad. You’re the only highlight these days.
I blush, warmth creeping up my neck.
I’ve never been anyone’s “highlight” before.
Me: What’s wrong?
Eli: *sigh* so much. Come on, Fangirl, tell me something funny.
I roll my eyes, smiling.
He still calls me Fangirl when he wants to get me all riled up.
Me: Funny haha or funny weird?
Eli: Anything that would make me smile.
I glance up at Pea, who is currently stretched out like a lord on my sofa, one eye half-open in judgment.
I grimace. “Do you think we should tell him?”
Pea flicks his tail.
I exhale, shaking my head. Now’s as good a time as any. He’s going to howl with laughter.
Me: I live with a celebrity.
The typing dots appear instantly.
Eli: Yeah? A wannabe actor?
Me: More like a famous model.
Eli: Are you trying to make me jealous, Fangirl? That’s not very kind.
My cheeks burn, my stomach doing a stupid little flip.
We’re firmly crossing into flirting territory now.
Right? Right?
I purse my lips. I’m not sure, so I’ll send a screenshot to Maya later for confirmation.
Me: Do you have Instabook?
Eli: Who doesn’t?
Instabook—the current social media platform of choice, where people post photos and thirty-second videos to their followers.
Perfect.
He’s about to meet my famous model roommate.
And he has no idea what’s coming.
Me: Okay, look for “One-Eye Meow.”
Eli: You’re shitting me, aren’t you?
Me: No, deadly serious! Just do it, Elijah.
Eli: Oh, it’s Elijah now? I’m in trouble. *grinning emoji*
Fine, okay, I’m here. Dude, that cat has 874k followers? Is he wearing an eyepatch in every pic?
I grin, picturing his confused expression.
Me: Yep. Crocheted ones that his followers vote for weekly.
I turn toward the cabinet by the entrance door, eyes landing on the red shoebox on top of it.
Inside?
There are 945 tiny crocheted eyepatches.
I’ve made 945 eyepatches for my one-eyed cat.
Eli: And you live with the weirdo who crocheted those?
I smirk, then walk over to Pea, who is now standing proudly on the counter, looking every bit like the internet celebrity he is.
I snap a photo of the two of us, only showing myself from the neck down, my Persefia nightwear on full display.
I send it.
Me: I’m the weirdo who crocheted those.
My heart hammers as I wait for his reply.
Did I cross the line? Does he think I am the weirdest girl on the planet now?
I’ve only known him for a week and only through instant messages. And yet, the thought of him rejecting me now?
It would break my heart.
Way to get attached, Amy.
My phone buzzes.
A photo: a close-up of his eyes, sharp, mischievous, framed by thick black eyebrows, one of them cocked in disbelief.
I stare, heart hammering.
Eli: You’re not just any weirdo, then. You’re my weirdo. And that changes everything. I can gloat now. I know a celebrity.
A breath of relief escapes me, the vise around my chest loosening. I can breathe again.
Eli: Thank you. I needed that—truly.
Me: No problem. I’m here for you.
A pause.
Me: So what’s up with you?
Eli: It’s a long story.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard, and my heart pounds in hesitation. I hear Maya’s voice in my head, pushing me forward.
Do it, Amy. Do it.
I inhale sharply.
“Penis,” I mutter under my breath for courage.
Me: Maybe we could do a video call? So you can explain everything to me.
I press send.
I slide my phone across the table like it might explode.
One minute turns into five and then ten. My stomach twists.
Oh my god. He’s ignoring me. What does Maya know, anyway?
I groan, dropping my head onto my arms—
My phone rings. I jolt upright, my pulse skyrocketing.
His name is on the screen.
My fingers tremble as I reach across the table. I hesitate. What if he’s nothing like I imagined? Worse, what if I am?
I take a breath and press the green button. A second later, his grinning face fills my screen.
My breath catches. His grin is wide and easy, the kind that reaches his eyes, lighting them up with something intense and knowing.
His jawline? Unfairly sharp.
The deep green of his eyes is ridiculous, like the Scottish Highlands after a storm.
He’s not cute like I’d imagined. He’s… so much more.
"Hi, Fangirl. I’m so happy to finally see you." His voice is deep, gravelly, and unfairly attractive.
A flutter rises behind my ribs. Me too, Eli. Me too.
The man is hot.
I didn’t expect him to be the hot, boy-next-door nerd type, but as I stare into his green eyes, I suddenly become painfully aware of my makeup-free face and messy hair.
He has unruly black curls tucked under a baseball cap, a straight nose, a strong jaw, and thick lips.
A little pale for an LA guy, but maybe he’s just as indoorsy as me.
I push my glasses up my nose, momentarily pleased that he wears some too, until I realize his glasses give him a Clark Kent effect that would make any girl melt, while mine just make me look dorkier.
Life is unfair.
Then he grins, and I catch it—a small, adorable gap between his front teeth.
Damn! Even his imperfections make him perfect.
“Sorry for taking so long,” he says. “I was just getting out of the shower, and I didn’t think it would be suitable to show you all the goods on our first date.”
He winks.
My brain short-circuits.
First date?
I know he’s joking, but my stomach still does a stupid, giddy flip.
Maya is going to weaponize this moment for the rest of my life.
The thought barely forms before my fingers betray me.
The unmistakable snap of a screenshot fills the room.
I freeze, then blush so hard I think I might combust.
Can I be more embarrassing? Apparently, yes. Because he laughs, his expression turning amused.
"Did you just take a screenshot?"
I want to die.
The universe, being the asshole it always is, has clearly taken this as a challenge to make things even worse.
My thumb hovers over the red disconnect button as a hot wave of embarrassment-induced sweat forms on my back.
Penis.
I inhale deeply.
“I may have mentioned you to my best friend, and she may have been the one who suggested this call.”
I shrug, playing it cool. And by cool, I mean on the verge of a panic attack.
“I think I owe her a picture.”
He nods, smirking. “Oh, it was the best friend’s idea?”
He tilts his head, considering.
“Tell her thank you and that I owe her a gift when we finally meet. And you know what—”
The screenshot sound goes off again, this time from his end.
My mouth falls open.
“My best friend will probably want to see you too,” he adds smoothly.
“Oh no, not like that.” I groan, self-consciously adjusting my ponytail.
He grins. “You’re perfect.”
I freeze, and a slow warmth spreads through my chest. I’ve never been called perfect before. Well, that’s not technically true.
I’m always “perfect” for taking on extra projects at work. “Perfect” to do a favor for my parents.
But never like this. Never just for being… well, me.
His voice softens. “It’s good to see you, Amy. Really.”
The humor drops away, and something else takes its place. Something that might be kindness, maybe even longing.
I swallow. “Same here.” My voice comes out smaller than I intended. “I’m glad I listened to Maya.”
Right on cue, Pea jumps onto my lap, purring loudly as he rubs his face against my neck.
Eli leans closer to the screen, eyes lighting up.
“Ah, here he is. The Insta celebrity himself.”
His lips quirk.
“Do you think he’ll like me when we meet?”
His comment, thrown so casually into the conversation, sends a warm blush creeping up my cheeks.
I hope to God that the lighting and screen resolution are hiding just how much his words are affecting me.
“I’m not sure,” I say, looking down at Pea, scratching his neck. “Mister is a proper diva, but he’s not above a good bribe. Salmon being his number one.”
Eli nods, grabbing a notepad.
“Salmon, huh.” He scribbles something down. “I’m taking notes.”
I smile, but a small weight settles in my chest.
I remember the real reason I offered this call in the first place.
“So, what’s bothering you?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Bother? Oh!” His eyes widen. “I’d almost forgotten about that. It’s the effect you have on me.”
I arch an eyebrow, attempting to look unimpressed while secretly preening on the inside. “Make you forget reality?”
He smiles. “No. Make me feel good. Grounded. Just… there.”
My stomach flips at the confession, my face breaking into a grin so wide it’s embarrassing.
I don’t care. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel this special before.
“It’s work,” he finally says, waving a hand dismissively. “Boring stuff.”
I shift on the couch, setting Pea on the floor before grabbing my cup of tea.
“I’m an accountant. Boring doesn’t scare me.” I lift my cup. “I’m all set. Come on, tell me.”
He sighs, leaning back in his chair.
For a moment, his gaze flickers off-screen, like he’s trying to organize his thoughts.
“Okay, so I’ve got two projects lined up. One is a small indie film. Not much money, but it’s super creative, something I can really use my skills for. The other is a huge Hollywood blockbuster… great money, great recognition, but same old boring shit.”
I take a sip of my tea. “I didn’t realize things could be that different in the special effects world.”
His head tilts slightly. “What? Oh.” He nods. “Yeah, totally. The less equipment you have, the more crafty you need to be…” He pauses. “It’s all technical gibberish, really.”
I hum thoughtfully, then say the simplest thing in the world. “Do you have enough money to pay your bills with either job?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I set my cup down. “Then do what makes you happy. Life’s too short.”
The words leave my lips effortlessly, but as soon as I say them, guilt twists in my chest because I don’t practice what I just preached. I’m stuck in a gray life I don’t truly want, all because I’m too scared to reach for more.
He nods slowly, eyes distant for a moment. “It seems like the logical choice, doesn’t it?” Then his gaze snaps back to me, locking in like a tether.
Something in my chest flutters.
“How are you so wise, Fangirl?” His lips twitch in amusement.
I lift an eyebrow. “Well, I’m twenty-nine. I’m obviously more mature. You’re only twenty-six.”
His chuckle is deep, rich, and completely unfair.
I adore it.
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he muses. “I forgot you’re a cougar, Fangirl. Lucky for you, you already know I’m into older women with fancy accents who own one-eyed cats and drink tea.”
I feel my cheeks redden, and the screen doesn’t feel like a screen anymore. He’s right there, teasing and flirting, waiting for my reaction.
I gulp. Penis.
I lean forward, matching his intensity. “You’re lucky I’m into younger men with bright-green eyes.”
His grin widens, his voice dropping a fraction lower. “Well then, I guess we’re both lucky, aren’t we?”
The air between us shifts and thickens, like something new is taking shape.
Something I’m not ready for but desperately want anyway.
I swallow. I shouldn’t say it. I should let the moment pass.
“I feel something special when we talk,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s more than just the banter. It’s you. You make me feel… alive.” My heart slams against my ribs.
Why the hell did I just say that?
His face softens, but he doesn’t look shocked. If anything, he looks like he understands exactly what I mean.
“And you make me feel like I’m not alone,” he confesses. “Like there’s someone out there who actually gets me.”
The sincerity in his voice punches through me like a comet.
I reach out, fingers pressing lightly against the screen, hating that this is the closest we can be.
“I’m here for you.”
And for the first time in a long time, I truly mean it.
Then—
A loud noise erupts from his end—a deep, masculine voice in the background. His expression shifts, shoulders tensing.
“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes darting off-screen. “I gotta go, Fangirl.” He looks back at me, his eyes filled with something I can’t quite place. “But thank you. And I’ll talk to you soon.” Then a small pause. “Miss you already.”
Then the screen goes black.
No goodbye. Just gone.
I sit frozen, my reflection staring back in the silence he left behind.
My heart twists.
What the hell was that?
Pea stirs beside me, stretching his paws and blinking up curiously.
I run my fingers over his fur, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I think I’m in trouble, Pea.”
The cat lets out a sleepy chirp.
I exhale, staring blankly at the screen.
“I think I’m already falling.”