Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Eli
I walk away from Raf without looking back. Once I turn the corner, my feet come to a halt, and I lean my back against the wall.
What do I do now?
Most of me wants to turn around and go back. Circumstances be damned. This evening has been the best one I’ve had since… I can’t even remember.
If I were one of those spontaneous, courageous people who are willing to take risks, I wouldn’t have left at all. Instead, I would’ve asked Raf out on a real date.
And then he would have said no because I’ve made a complete ass out of myself tonight, and I’ve dunked him straight into the crazy. That’s not something you do. You introduce people slowly, step by step.
I did not do that. I just let my freak flag fly with no reservations.
I hide my face in my hands and groan out loud. Why am I like this?
The worst part?
I liked him.
Really, really liked him.
No point in lying to myself now.
And if we’re going with brutal honesty, I swiftly fucked up any chance I might have had with him.
I straighten my back. It happens without thinking. In fact, it almost feels like my body is getting no input from my brain at all. My heart starts to beat faster. First one beat, then a second. The third follows faster, the fourth even more so.
By the time I turn the corner again, I can barely hear anything over the frantic sound of my own heartbeat in my ears.
I push past the people on the street and walk, walk, walk.
I reach the building where the restaurant is. I snap my head left and right and peer past people.
He’s not here.
My shoulders slump.
Well, what did you expect from the man, Eli? That he’d just keep standing around here until you pulled your head out of your ass? For all he knows it would’ve been an extremely long wait.
I tap my wrist against my forehead and blow out a breath.
Disappointment morphs into a bitter, tar-like substance that coats my insides.
“Okay,” I say out loud. “I guess that’s that.”
“What’s what?”
I whirl around and come face-to-face with Raf.
I blink to make sure he’s actually here and I’m not just conjuring him up in my head, because with how this day has gone so far, I wouldn’t put it past me.
I swallow hard to get my voice back.
“Hi,” I say.
He gives me a small smile. “Hi. Fancy running into you here.”
I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and clear my throat. “It’s a popular street.”
He looks around at the people passing us by. “Is that what brings you back here?”
I blow out another breath. “No.”
“Planning on grabbing a late-night snack?” He glances at the restaurant.
“I think they’re closed by now.”
“That’s a shame.”
“I wasn’t really hungry anyway.”
He tilts his head to the side, the corners of his lips moving upward a bit more.
“Then the mystery remains. What brings you back here?”
The impulse to say something evasive, to lie—to hide—is strong.
“You,” I say, nodding for good measure.
He takes a step closer, that smile widening even more. “Did I accidentally take something of yours?”
“Uh-uh.” I shake my head.
“Did I forget something?”
“No, I did.”
“And what would that be?”
“I… I wanted to know if maybe you’d want to go on a date with me. For real this time. Raf.”
He studies me for a moment, and there’s a horrible second when I do think he’s going to say no. But then he’s beaming at me.
“Yeah. I think I’d like that very much. For real. Eli.”
“Okay. That’s… that’s great!” I beam at him, too. “Let me just give you my number, or you should probably give me yours. On second thought—or is it third already? On third thought, maybe we should give each other our numbers because that sounds like a good idea if we both have them, right?”
“An excellent idea,” he agrees, and to his credit, he doesn’t laugh.
I pull out my phone, and we put our numbers in each other’s phones, then switch them back.
Then we just stand there, looking at each other, smiling like two lunatics, not saying anything.
“I guess I should get going,” I eventually say. I don’t want to go, but it’s probably a good idea because I will say something stupid and put him off me. Leaving is self-preservation.
“Okay.” I think I detect just a tiny bit of regret in his voice, and it makes my chest jolt with happiness.
“Okay. I’ll call you. Or you’ll call me. Or, you know, I asked you out, so I’ll call? Yeah. I’ll call.”
He grins at me, and I squeeze my eyes shut and screw up my face from exasperation with my ability to be absolutely the uncoolest person out there.
“Bye,” I say.
I start to turn around just as he reaches out, and his warm palm covers the side of my face.
He leans forward.
My heart goes into overdrive.
He hovers, his lips an inch away from my lips.
I erase that inch.
Our mouths meet, and it’s soft, and my heart does a relentless thump-thump-thump, and nothing—nothing—has ever felt this right.
It’s not a bolt of electricity or fireworks or whatever else people say it should be like. It’s not what I’ve conditioned myself to look for my whole life. It’s so much better. It’s a calm knowing that settles inside me, and everything, my whole being, suddenly feels just right.
His lips are soft as they move over mine. It feels like my body is lighter than air, and I have a helium heart.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and he wraps his around my waist, pulling me closer. His tongue licks over mine, and I gasp when a shiver runs down my spine.
A low, rumbling groan escapes his throat, and the feeling of rightness gets even stronger.
This is what a kiss is supposed to feel like.
He leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.
“Can I walk you home?” he asks. “In a gentlemanly way.”
I laugh before I nod. “I’d love for you to walk me home. In a gentlemanly way.”
He lets me go, and I feel the loss deep inside me, but a second later he takes my hand in his.
I can’t stop smiling as we stroll through the late-night streets toward my apartment.
We talk and talk, and we take the longest route possible to my place.
He tells me what it was like to grow up as one of three identical boys.
I tell him about my brother and sister and growing up in California.
He tells me about the summers he spent in Alaska, roaming around his grandfather’s property with his brothers.
I tell him about med school and my job. He tells me about being a firefighter.
In the midst of all the bigger topics, he inserts funny stories about his life and facts about his hobbies and interests. Like his position as the pitcher in his rec league baseball team, and his dog, Bongo, who he found wandering around the neighborhood when he was just a puppy.
We sit on the front steps of my building and watch the sun rise from behind the roofs of my neighbors’ houses.
And we talk.
And kiss.
And talk.
“I have to go,” he murmurs in between kisses when the first people have stepped out of their front doors, ready to head to work.
“No, you don’t,” I say.
“I really do.”
With a few more kisses, he gets to his feet and pulls me up too.
One more kiss.
I wrap myself around him.
“I’ll see you later tonight,” he says. He doesn’t ask. I don’t mind. I have no argument with that anyway.
“Please do.”
With one last kiss, he pulls away.
I watch him walk down the street.
He walks backward for a time, grinning at me, until he almost collides with a woman on an electrical scooter.
“Turn around, you lunatic, and watch where you’re going,” I call out with a laugh.
He salutes me and turns around, but he keeps glancing over his shoulder until he disappears around the corner.
I lean my back against my door for a moment, a loopy smile on my face.
“Oh my God,” I whisper to myself.
And butterflies create a riot in my stomach.