Chapter 16 #2
That was weird, right? Being so into someone so quickly couldn’t be healthy. She was insane. He said he didn’t want a relationship, and they decided on a friends with benefits situation. Yes, there was “potential there,” but what the fuck did that even mean?
She really needed to get it through her head that they were just friends, with potential to become more.
But for the moment, just friends who happened to be working on a project together: an art project—for her best friend—because she was a fucking artist, or she wanted to be, even if her mom disagreed.
Stomping to where she’d left her phone blaring smut on the bathroom counter, Fern rewound a few minutes of missed story, paused her book, and pulled up her texts, desperate to calm her twisting thoughts.
She fired off a check-in text to Ren, asked Liv how she was feeling, then opened her conversation with Elliott.
Fern
Hey, dude
Elliott
Hey sugar
Home from work?
Fern
Yeah. How’s the wedding stuff?
He sent through a picture of his arm. Hand flexed and veins protruding, Elliott gripped the edge of his open kiln. The rest of the shot—most of it, actually—featured a bunch of small white chips surrounding the platter she’d painted, ready for firing.
She’d just zoomed in on his hand when his name popped up on her screen. With a squeak, she answered his incoming call.
“Hey, I figured it would be easier to update you like this.” A timber wall swayed up and down behind Elliott as he rocked in the chair on his front porch, his loose hair riding the soft breeze.
Heart rate gaining momentum as hope nipped at her heels, Fern crossed to her futon. So, so nonchalantly, she asked, “Sure, what’s up?”
“Not much. Did you get the pic? It’s from a few hours ago. I almost sent it then, but I didn’t want to distract you at work. The magnets showed up, too, for the backs of the chips.”
“You can text me while I’m at the salon.” She chuckled. “Does that mean we’re working on wedding favors this weekend?”
“How about we start tomorrow? An art-weekend-extravaganza?” He raised a brow, pushing the question over to her.
“Is this like a... summer camp/sleepover thing?”
Elliott smirked. “I’m not sure what kind of summer camp you went to…”
“Is that a yes?”
“Is that a yes from you?” he shot back.
She squirmed, wishing she were there, straddling him on the rocking chair with her fingers locked around his neck and his hands yanking on her hair. “I’ll be there.” Her answer came out breathier than intended. “I mean, I have work tomorrow, but I could come by after that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She studied his face for a moment.
With his beard freshly trimmed, it looked more like an extremely artful five o’clock shadow than anything else.
His jawline was sharp enough to cut her through the screen, and when he grinned, a sneaky dimple appeared on his chin.
God, he was handsome. She fished for something else to say, some reason to keep him chatting longer.
“Did you know I’m a bridesmaid in Ren’s wedding?
And I’m doing everyone’s nails and hair. Well, mine and Liv’s and Ren’s.”
“I did not know you’re a bridesmaid, but I could’ve guessed. What are you wearing?”
“It’s a gorgeous dress. She wants us both in orange, but like, a good orange. I made sure my hair would complement it. Wanna see it?”
“Of course.”
Grinning, Fern found her dress and propped her phone on the bookcase to show it off.
“You’re going to look gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” Holding up the gown like she was a paper doll, she did a twirl before tossing it back in the closet. “Will we really have our project wrapped up before the wedding? I’m going to have a busy few days once we hit Thursday.”
“I think we’ll be done on Monday. Worst case, Tuesday.”
That was no good. What excuse would she have to see him then? The friend group would help, especially if she asked them to, but that was embarrassing. It was possible to handle this on her own. She could always— “Will you go to Ren’s wedding with me?”
Every muscle in Fern’s body froze. She nearly added, “as friends,” but bit back at the last second, unwilling to cheapen whatever they had going. They weren’t just friends, she didn’t think.
It was a hard, horrible, paralytic wait—those three seconds until he replied. But he did, with a small nod and, “Yeah, if you’ll return the clothes you stole.”
She glanced down, face reddening to match his tee when she remembered what she had on. “Oh my god, of course. I’ll wash them tonight.”
“No.” Planting his elbows on his knees, he eyed her sternly through the phone. “I want them as is.”
“Oh-kay... Why?”
Elliott’s nostrils flared, he growled, and his jaw ticked, all in rapid succession. She was fairly certain he was having a chat with his bear. “They’ll smell like you. Give me my clothes back. Don’t you dare wash them.”
Pinpricks of static skittered beneath her skin, flushing her—everywhere. “Is that something you like?”
“Yes.” Face tight, like he’d made himself uncomfortable with his confession, Elliott shifted the subject, “Looks like I’ll finally be needing that haircut, huh?”
Fern squealed, and he held the phone at arm’s length, laughing alongside her joy. Maybe he wasn’t her boyfriend yet, maybe they were still in the “potential” phase, but she’d get him there. She could feel it coming.