Chapter 9
“ U gh, I can’t look at this anymore,” I huff, slamming my laptop shut in one fell swoop and shoving it beside me on the sofa. “I need a break.”
Elias barely glances up at me from his end of the couch, continuing his frenzied typing on his own computer. We’ve been working side by side all evening, him working on his dissertation and me writing my article. And I’ve just about had my fill.
After giving Princess a bath, I cleaned myself up and changed into non-muddy clothes while he put on a very serious blazer ensemble to student-teach his economics course. Admittedly, it did confuse me for a hot minute before he clarified that being kicked out of his dorm didn’t mean he was expelled from the school altogether.
I spent the entire time he was teaching stringing thoughts together for the article and trying different layouts until I finally felt I had a somewhat tangible structure. I’ve also given myself a talking to since earlier, refocusing my priorities. This article is what’s important, what’s going to determine my career. So that’s all I’m going to think about. End of story.
Elias had promised to help me out when he got back, and sure enough at a quarter to five, he walked through the door once more and we got right to work. I went over my new outline with him, showing him all the progress I had made and the areas that still needed more development. We worked on some new ideas together, adding content to expand some sections and editing out others that no longer fit, and I ended up with a reasonably fleshed-out idea.
Once I felt that I had sufficiently picked his brain, I released him from my charge for the night. But instead of going off on his own to another room or even upstairs, he simply pulled his laptop out of his duffel and worked in silence next to me.
It’s been kind of nice having someone there just for the sake of it, to work separately but together instead of being alone. In a totally platonic kind of way. I’m actually impressed at how much I was able to write that way, like having him around incentivized me not to procrastinate.
But now nearly three hours later, I’m sick of staring at the words on my screen and need a change of scenery. I reach around behind the couch to the basket of dog toys and pull out a frayed knotted rope, getting Princess’ attention with it. A nice game of tug of war will be just the thing to distract myself with. Good thing too, since she’s starting to get sick of our lack of attention toward her these past few hours.
She perks up the second it catches her eye, and I wave it around in front of her face until she latches on with her little teeth. She’s surprisingly strong for her small frame, giving me a good run for my money as she tugs on the rope with her tail wagging rapidly in the air. I pull it side to side, staring her down and egging her on while she stands her ground. Eventually I let go and let her win, unable to resist caving to her little determined face.
I’m reluctant to say I’m already starting to get attached, knowing I’ll miss her once this job comes to an end. Saying goodbye has always been the hardest part of what I do, and I’ve never been very good at it—with pets or with people.
“You’re such a strong girl!” I coo at her as she bounces around proudly.
Elias huffs next to me and I immediately bite my tongue, realizing I probably just disrupted the quiet concentration he had going on. He shuts his laptop and looks up at me, his eyes seeming even more tired than they were this morning.
“I think a break might be a good idea. You hungry?”
“Always.”
I check the oversized clock that’s hung opposite the dining room table and realize it’s already past eight o’clock. I guess we were both so caught up in our projects that neither of us thought to take a break for dinner. No wonder I’m starving.
“Want to order in? We can get something delivered right up to us, we wouldn’t even have to leave the penthouse,” he suggests.
“Sounds perfect,” I beam, knowing I neither have enough energy to cook nor to go out into the real world for food. “But, uh…”
I’m trying to calculate what the delivery fees would be like in this part of town and if my bank account can even afford a small fry in its current state, when he notices my hesitation.
“My treat.”
Damn, he’s good. No wonder women flock to him.
“You really know how to charm a girl. ”
“That’s why you hired me,” he smiles.
“Technically I’m not paying you, so it’s more like you’re doing volunteer work.”
“Not exactly. I’m getting something out of it too,” My mind goes blank. “Your discretion?”
“Right,” I falter, reaching for the rope in Princess’ mouth once more while he pulls out his phone.
It’s not until I’m in a deadlock with Princess, not letting her win so easily this time (to keep her humble; it’s for her own good) that Elias speaks up again. “You like burgers? There’s a great place I know around the corner, wouldn’t take long to get here.”
Princess takes advantage of this distraction and manages to yank the rope from me, giving me a smug look as she celebrates her victory.
Show off.
“You had me at burgers.”
He taps his screen a few more times before leaning over and holding it out to me. “Here, just pick what you want.”
I’m a little taken aback by his complete willingness to hand a mere acquaintance his phone so casually, not sure if he’s just an incredibly trusting person or if I’m the one with the problem. Or maybe it’s both.
I take his phone, scrolling through dozens of mouthwatering options before deciding on a double-smoked bacon cheeseburger. I add it to the cart and take a mental note of the price before handing it back to him, determined to get him back on my next payday.
He submits the order and says it’ll take fifteen minutes, so I take the opportunity to give Princess her nightly brushing while we wait. Her tail tickles my leg as she curls up in between Elias and I, settling into a comfy position to be pampered. I’m brushing her with the utmost care when Elias passively reaches his hand over to rub her belly, and I have to hold back a smile.
So much for his whole ‘not a dog person’ claim.
The intercom out in the foyer buzzes to let us know someone from the front desk is bringing our food up, startling me out of my thoughts. I can’t help but be impressed at how full-service this building is; at my apartment, they just dump it at the stoop (on the rare occasion where we opt for delivery). There’s no one to bring it up to our door, unless you count our nosey downstairs neighbor who frequently steals our packages. Every time I think living like a Kaplan can’t possibly get any better, it does.
Elias takes care to be extra quiet when he stands up to get the food (since Princess has fallen asleep between us), beaming when he reappears with the greasy bags in hand.
“Come on,” he nods, making his way across the living room toward the balcony.
I gently lift myself up from the sofa, doing my best not to wake her, and follow his lead toward the double doors that lead us outside. He opens the door for me and I step out onto the balcony first, a crisp breeze surrounding me and the sweet summer air filling my lungs.
God, this is the life.
We each take a seat in the twin lounge chairs that face out toward the glimmering skyline, piling napkins onto our laps in preparation for the messy meal that’s sure to ruin our clothes. He pulls out my burger from the bag and hands it to me, and I realize this is exactly what I wanted on my first day here. Late-night junk food on an Upper East Side balcony, with the breeze in my hair and the city at my feet. Though the handsome newcomer next to me is an addition I couldn’t have predicted.
“ Oh my God , this is so good,” I exclaim as I take my first bite, mouth full of crunchy bacon and juicy beef patty.
“Told you. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“In the forty-eight hours I’ve known you? No, can’t say you have.”
“Exactly.”
He shoots me another one of his patented cocky smiles, and I can’t help but find it endearing this time around. Something about the overly confident way he carries himself is intoxicating, like you can never get enough.
I’m usually fine with being on my own, enjoy it even. I’ve gotten used to it after growing up as a single child with no long-term friendships to keep me company. But sitting here with Elias—the guy who just bought me dinner for no reason at all—I find myself grateful for his presence.
“But seriously, thanks for this,” I say with a hand covering my mouth full of food.
“You’ve been at it for a while,” he shrugs. “Felt like you deserved a break.”
He’s making it real hard for me not to like him.
We eat in silence for a while, listening to the fleeting sounds of traffic and trendy music echoing below us. The city lights twinkle in the distance, millions of lives unfolding all at once while the two of us watch from up high. It’s nice. Calming. Like my worries from the outside world don’t exist here on this balcony.
“So,” Elias starts as he polishes off the last of his burger. “Are you ever going to tell me what the deal is with this article?”
“What do you mean? ”
“I believe your exact words were that your ‘entire livelihood rests on its success’?”
“Oh, that.” Perhaps I should have used a less dramatic choice of words. Although I wasn’t planning on ever admitting my lack of writing expertise to him, it only feels fair to let him in on the secret after all he’s done to help out. And after I badgered him with my own intrusive questions yesterday. “Okay, confession. This is my first time writing an article.”
“I thought you said you were a writer?”
“I am! Just, not a published one.” Cue my awkward tucking of hair behind my ear in an attempt to hide my embarrassment. “I’ve only ever written for myself, just short stories and things like that. I’m actually a copyeditor at Flourish.”
“Then why the article?”
“It’s kind of a long story… The short version is that my boss assigned it to me as a test run. If I do well on it and prove myself, she might give me my own column.”
He’s got the same look of awe in his eyes as yesterday, the one that makes me feel like this is as big of a deal as I’ve made it out to be in my head. “Sounds important.”
“It really is. Being a writer in media, especially for a magazine like this, has always been my dream job. That’s why I need this piece to be perfect.”
He nods and looks back out to the city skyline, popping the last of his fries into his mouth. I wait for him to ask me more questions as payback for my invasive line of questioning yesterday, but he doesn’t. He stays silent as he leans back into his lounge chair, his reserved nature making my curiosity rear its ugly head once more.
“So what’s yours?” I ask abruptly.
“My what? ”
“Dream job.”
“Oh.” He seems to ponder it for a moment, like he’s never thought about his dreams before. “Don’t have one.”
“Seriously? C’mon, no one gets a Ph.D. in finance just for the fun of it. You must have something in mind for once you graduate.”
“I going to work for my parents’ company—well, I guess it’s Tobias’ company now. Does that count?”
“Right, of course.” Why didn’t I think of that? “Are they taking you on as an accountant?”
“Sort of. I’ve been doing internships there for the past few years to learn the ropes. The plan is to start me off as a financial analyst then train me up to become CFO.”
“Holy shit,” I gape. “You know how to do that? Be a CFO?”
In my mind, CFOs are stuffy old people with a retirement savings plan and thirty years of experience under their belts. It blows my mind that someone my age could be doing a job like that.
“I guess I will soon.”
“Wow, that sounds… amazing. And incredibly difficult.”
He shrugs once more, and I find it odd that he doesn’t seem as enthused about it as I am.
“Not nearly as much as it sounds. Numbers are straightforward, you know? There’s no thinking outside the box required,” he explains, even though I actually don’t know. Math was regrettably always my worst subject in school. “Creative stuff on the other hand, never been my thing. I can’t come up with something out of thin air like you’re doing.”
“Yeah, right,” I snort, appreciative of his kindness even though it can’t possibly be true.
“No, seriously.” He turns to face me once more and the sincerity in his eyes feels like it’s going to burn a hole in my heart. “Writing an article that potentially tens thousands of people are going to read seems a lot scarier to me than writing a dissertation for only a few snobby examiners. You should be really proud of yourself.”
There it is again, that praise he hands out like it’s nothing. How does he do that? More importantly, why does he do it? Especially for someone he’s only known for two days.
I’m not sure if he’s doing it to butter me up so I won’t rat him out to Tobias, or if it’s just habit from trying to pick up women. Either way, it makes him far too likeable. If I’m not careful, I might start getting used to this kind of treatment—and that’s the last thing I want, considering after next week we’ll never see each other again.
“You’re severely overestimating our readership,” I say. “But thanks, Elias.”
“Eli,” he urges, and my chest starts radiating with warmth.
“You should be proud of yourself too. Not a lot of people can accomplish what you have, or get as far in their education. Your parents must be so proud of you and your brother for carrying on the family business.”
“Yeah, you’d think they would be,” he mutters, his jaw twitching as he averts his eyes.
For the second time since I met him, I get the feeling I’ve struck a nerve. I’m not sure why or how, but the way he turns his head away and the sudden shift in his demeanor is enough to tell me that wasn’t the right thing to say. Clearly his family is a sore topic for him, and I’ve got to remember to stop bringing them up.
I want to say more, to change the subject and ease the tension or somehow take back whatever I’ve just offended him with after all the kindness he’s shown me. But before I get the chance to, he clears his throat and gets up from his chair.
“It’s getting late. I promised my friends I’d go out with them again tonight, so I should probably get going.” He grabs our empty burger and fry wrappers and shoves them into the takeout bag, heading back toward the balcony doors.
And just like that, before I’ve even had a chance to process what he’s said, it’s like he flipped a switch and he’s back to confident (if not a little cocky) Elias. That cheeky smile and dimple reappear on his face, and his posture reverts to standing overly tall as if the past minute never happened.
“Don’t wait up for me,” he adds with a wink.
I’m starting to think that this fun, flirty, bar-hopping persona is just a front he puts up to avoid talking about certain things he’d rather avoid, but I can’t blame him for it. The truth is, the only reason I can tell it’s a front is because I do the exact same thing. I avoid Veda and Cassie’s questions about my family or my life before New York like it’s the plague. I want to live life as Gemma the Cool City Girl, not as the lonely ten-year-old who begged her parents in tears not to move again.
So I decide Elias’ business is his business, and I shouldn’t try to insert myself where he doesn’t want me. If he wants to avoid bad feelings and unwanted memories, I can get on board with that. Even if all I want to do right now is comfort him and make everything okay.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”