Chapter 20
I wake up wrapped in Eli’s arms with my head on his chest, rising and falling with each of his slow breaths. Sun rays dance across the sheets as I turn to look up at him, watching him sleep peacefully. From this close up, I can see some faded freckles I’d never noticed before on his nose, and can’t stop myself from admiring him. My eyes wander from his impossibly thick eyelashes to the soft curvature of his upper lip—it’s really not fair how perfect he is.
I can’t believe it finally happened. The big scary leap I was trying desperately to avoid with him, the thing we can never turn back from. I gave in to my feelings against my better judgement, diving head first into my biggest fears, and I loved every second of it.
He was everything I could have ever wanted: passionate, gentle, skilled but not showing off, taking his time with me and never keeping me anything but close to him.
But now it’s over.
He said himself last night that he’d wanted this ‘since the very first night’. Now that we both got what we wanted, now that the chase is over, it’s time to move on. Eli doesn’t date the women he sleeps with. I knew that going into it. I’m not the girl who’s going to wake up in his arms every morning, and he’s not the guy who’s going to hold me every night. We don’t do this, we’re not relationship people.
So as much as it pains me, I have to abandon ship before I become the kind of stage five clinger I’m sure he avoids like the plague. I lift my head off his chest and carefully move his arm away from my waist, quietly slipping out from under the sheets. Grabbing my clothes off the floor, I get myself dressed just as my phone starts to vibrate on my bedside table.
Shit.
I scramble to silence it only to find it’s Amani calling, and audibly gasp. A quick check at Eli confirms he’s still asleep, so I tiptoe toward the door to take the call, closing it gently behind me before hurrying down the stairs.
“Amani, hi! How are you?” I babble into the phone once I reach the bottom, spotting Princess snoozing on the couch.
She perks up when she hears me coming her way, and I grab her leash off its hook.
“I read your draft,” Amani states on the other end of the line, ignoring my question.
Okay, straight to the point .
Princess bounces over to me and presents herself at my feet to let me put the leash on her.
“What did you think of it?” I ask a little too hopefully.
The silence on the other ends lasts just long enough to make it clear this isn’t a phone call of praise.
“It’s good.” Except her tone doesn’t match her words. She makes the word good sound like an insult .
I sense a ‘but’ coming on.
“I’m glad you liked it!”
“But”, Called it . “It’s a little… flat.”
“Oh—okay,” I stammer, trying my best to hide my disappointment as I head downstairs with Princess, my phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder. “Can I ask what you didn’t like about it? How I can make it better?”
“I’m not going to lie to you Gemma, it’s a solid draft. But it’s stale. You need to inject more life into it; come at it from a more personal angle.”
A ‘personal angle’? Is my boss telling me to go have a one-night stand? That was the whole reason I got Eli to help me in the first place, so that I wouldn’t have to experience it myself.
“I definitely can do that, no worries,” I flat out lie.
“Look, I know it’s your first time writing an article like this, and you’ve clearly been putting a lot of time and effort into it. I appreciate that. I just had to be straight with you because, as it is right now, I’m not sure how well your article will do with the readers.”
A.K.A it won’t do well to sell her on my column idea.
“If you can rework the tone and give it a slam-dunk conclusion, I think we’d have something really great,” she instructs before I can say anything more.
Okay, this isn’t so bad. I can do this. Just change the tone, easy.
I force a smile as I round the corner with Princess, putting on my most optimistic voice. “Absolutely. Thanks Amani, I’ll get started on those changes right away.”
“Perfect, send me your final version by end of day tomorrow.”
A day and a half to rework the whole article… Awesome.
“And Gemma,” she adds right as I’m about to hang up. “You can do this. I believe in you. ”
I manage to squeak out a “Thank you” before she ends the call, leaving me to finish my walk with Princess in a haze. It’s not until we circle back to the penthouse that I remember I left Eli alone in my bed, without so much as a note to tell him I’d be right back.
I’m hoping to sneak back in before he wakes up so he won’t know I completely ditched him right after we slept together, but by the time I walk back into the penthouse, I can hear him moving around in the kitchen.
I head his way, spotting him sitting at the island taking the last sip of his coffee. He’s wearing the same pants he was yesterday, but he’s opted to go shirtless this morning—a choice that makes my palms sweat.
“Hey, you’re up!” I announce brightly as I walk into the kitchen.
“So are you,” he says, glancing up at me. But his smile feels different. Insincere.
I notice another mug to his left, still completely full, that has most likely gone cold. I get the feeling that one was meant for me, and a pang of guilt hits me right in the gut.
“Sorry I left you up there like that, you were sleeping and—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, I get it,” he cuts me off, hurt in his eyes.
“Get what?”
“The whole sneaking out before they wake up thing. Wouldn’t have pegged you for it, but I get it.”
Is he suggesting I ‘one-night stand’-ed him? The self-proclaimed expert on casual sex? I mean, I kind of did, but if I hadn’t done it, he surely would have.
…Right?
“No, it’s not like that,” I urge, my stomach twisting around itself. “My boss called, I had to take it and I didn’t want to wake you up.”
Technically, that is the truth. Part of me wants to show him my phone log to prove it, even if it’s not the whole truth. I hate that he knows there’s more to the story, knows I was copping out.
Yes, I got freaked and snuck out of bed before my phone even rang. But I don’t understand, I thought this was what he wanted? This is what he does; he doesn’t start relationships. He told me last week that he wasn’t looking for something serious, so why would this be any different? Why would I be any different?
“What did she say? Did she read what you sent her?” he asks, his eyebrows knitting together like he’s nervous for me, which only confuses me even more.
“Um, she said it was fine, but it needs work.”
“Well that’s still good news, right? Sounds like she liked it,” he offers.
“Yeah, I guess so… I have a lot of changes to make and only a day to make them though—I just don’t know if I can get it done in time.”
His smirk is so subtle I almost don’t catch it.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs, eyes moving toward the ground.
“No seriously, what?”
“It kind of sounds like you’re giving up.”
“I’m not giving up . This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, is all.”
He doesn’t dignify that with an answer, and his silence is really starting to bug me.
“You’re doing it again. What are you not saying? ”
“Gemma,” he exhales, dragging his hand down his jaw in something that feels a lot like annoyance. “Of course it’s hard. If it was easy, everyone would do it.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to do it.”
“Yes, you do. Being a writer is your dream, you’re just scared.”
“Scared?” I repeat. He’s hitting too close to home now, and I don’t like it.
“Yes. Because if you don’t finish it, if it doesn’t get published, then no one can criticize it. And you’re terrified it won’t be good enough.”
“You know me that well, huh?” I scoff.
Sure, he’s not totally wrong, but it’s none of his business. I’m fully aware of all of my many faults, I don’t need him to point them out to me.
“Yes, I do. And you know me,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Do I? We met less than two weeks ago, how well can we really know each other?”
I’m starting to spiral. I’m confused about my feelings for him and what he wants from me, I’m worried about my article and whether Amani will approve my column or not, and it’s all too much. I wish I wasn’t pushing him away when he’s only trying to help, but I can’t stop myself.
“You’re telling me that after last night, we still don’t know each other?” he presses.
I can’t look at him. I’m too scared. I’m getting too close to him, too attached, and it’s terrifying me.
“Eli, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell me that last night meant more to you, too.”
My voice catches in my throat. There’s no way he just said that .
“I don’t get it, you’re the one who walked away that night we went out with your friends. You can’t stand here and tell me you want more from me when you’re the one who backed out first.”
My words come out much sharper than I intended them to, like a knife I’m hurling at him from three feet away. But instead of matching my tone, he just looks… apologetic.
“You’re right. And you deserve an explanation.”
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat before standing up and coming toward me.
“That night, when I kissed you, I was acting on impulse. We were drunk, it was late, it was the heat of the moment.” I knew it. It was a mistake, and he regrets it. “The only reason I stopped it was because I didn’t want you to be just another hookup.”
“W-what?” I ask as he reaches me, taking my hands in his.
“When you asked me if we should go upstairs, I realized what I was doing. I was going to sleep with you and make this, make us , all about sex. And that’s not what I wanted.”
My breathing has never been shallower. I’m hanging on his every word, my mouth dry and my knees wobbly. “Well, what do you want?”
His eyes bore into me, so much so that it gives me the urge to look away so he can’t read me.
“You.”
I can’t think, can’t breathe. My walls are forcing their way around my heart, and I feel like I’m drowning.
“I want all of you,” he says, pulling me closer. “And I think you want me too.”
No. No no no .
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t do this kind of thing. I was perfectly happy keeping my distance from anyone who could potentially break my heart, fooling myself into thinking I could be happy alone.
A deep, hidden, cold part of my heart knows that last night meant something more to me too, knows that I want him more than anything. But I locked that hopeful piece away long ago… So far down that not even Eli can reach it.
“I—I can’t…” I stammer at the floor, filled with an emotion I can’t quite place.
I can still feel his eyes on me as time comes to a screening halt. He lets go of my hands, standing in place for what feels like a lifetime, before I watch him nod heavily out of the corner of my eye.
“I understand.”
It’s killing me not to say anything more, not to grab his face and kiss him like the world is ending, but I’m frozen in place. He waits a beat as if to see if I’ll change my mind—or, at the very least, if I’ll look up at him—but when I do nothing, he steps back from me and walks away, footsteps receding out of earshot.
And I hate myself for it.