Chapter 13 Never Go to the Back Room with a Dog Adoption Coordinator #4
“I bet after one month of eating nothing but cheese and bread and not stressing constantly over my most basic needs being met, I might decide I want to go to art school or be a mime or swim the English Channel for fun,” she continued.
“Though…probably not the last one—I both respect and fear large bodies of water. But the other two? Maybe. I just want to be alive somewhere besides the only place I’ve ever been, and to see who I am there. Is that crazy?”
“Definitely not crazy.” His knuckle tapped lightly against the seat in a lazy rhythm. “I think you’ll go to art school.”
“You’re going to immediately rule out mime when you haven’t even seen me in action?”
“Oh, you’d be very good at that, too. I can already picture you on an upturned bucket with those folded cards saying, ‘Watch the Queen. Watch the Queen,’ but you’ve already pocketed the money.”
Lainey eyed him. “Are you confusing the art of miming with street hustling?”
“Oh shit, I think I might be.” He stretched his arm across, his thumb sweeping her shoulder for a beat too long to be purely accidental.
“Pizza’s good,” Lainey said quickly, pulling her shoulder back.
Elliot withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s from Kwik Trip.”
“Classic.”
What are you saying?
He pulled out a laptop from the messenger bag lying at his feet. “Should we watch a movie or something?”
“Air Bud in honor of our new friend?” She took another bite and tilted her head to Waffle, who was slowly nibbling the pepperoni.
Lainey wasn’t sure if this was an indication of something good or bad, but the animal certainly seemed more relaxed.
“Or some other dog movie? But I won’t watch Homeward Bound. I’m not an attractive crier.”
“Your ethernet cable doesn’t reach the driveway, and all I have downloaded is Gladiator.”
“I’m not about to watch Russell Crowe fight a tiger while trapped inside a car.” She slid her hand over Waffle’s back and grabbed Elliot’s computer from his lap.
All that was left of her pizza was a strip of crust. She placed it between her teeth to free up her hands, but Waffle snatched it from her mouth. She looked at him in stunned silence, hearing nothing but the dog snarfing down the crust, coupled with the melodic sounds of Elliot laughing.
“That was cruel!” she told Elliot, aghast. She reached over the dog to swat him on the shoulder, which only made him laugh harder. “You are ice cold. You’re lucky I’m still going to log you into the Lachlans’ Starlink account.”
“Who are the Lachlans?” he asked, wiping a tear from his eye.
“They own a hunting cabin down the beach. After a storm, one of their satellites ended up by my firepit, so I moved it into that tree over there so I wouldn’t have to pay for internet anymore.”
Keys clicked under her fingertips as she tapped out the password that had been criminally easy to guess.
“Are you serious? I had a guy come out to set up a corded connection for two hundred dollars.”
“I assumed you wouldn’t approve of my methods. Here.” Waffle was now relaxed on a blanket in the middle seat. Definite progress.
Elliot’s head drifted side to side indecisively. “Yeah, kind of. But the Elon of it all makes it feel like a victimless crime.”
“That’s ultimately where I land as well.” Her fingers paused. “I can’t log in to any streaming services. Technically, they’re all Bree’s, and all of her passwords are different lines from ‘The Road Not Taken.’ ”
“That’s a fascinating network security protocol.”
“She had to memorize it for AP English and then refused to forget it. Do you have Netflix or something?”
“No. I was logged into Seb’s for a while, but I got booted by the system.”
“Ah, yes. The mysterious hot friend, Sebastian.”
The memory of Elliot’s most recent morning FaceTime—again no mention of her—cracked through her chest like roots through stone.
“You don’t know that he’s hot,” Elliot responded. He retrieved the computer from her lap.
“He’s named after a Disney prince. I hope he’s hot. You can’t pull off a name like that and be normal-looking.”
“He’s a crab.”
Lainey clicked her tongue. “Is that code for something? Like he’s a smooth redhead?”
Elliot laughed. “No, in the Disney movie. Sebastian’s the crab.
You’re the only redhead in my life,” he said.
Lainey didn’t know which word had caught her—was it only or my—but there she went again, feeling all tangled up in Elliot Hodges.
She swallowed and forced her eyes down to his hands as he typed.
“I have the Criterion Channel if you want to watch a movie. I’m working my way through a list of essential films by decade. I’m currently in the 1950s.”
Jesus, his entire life was a project, wasn’t it? “Anything from the thirties or forties knock Gladiator out of your top spot?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. But I’m feeling optimistic about the fifties. I still have to watch Rashomon—”
“Pass,” she declared.
“Elevator to the Gallows—”
She lowered her eyes. “What?”
“Vertigo—”
“Ooh, I’ve seen that one. Let’s watch it,” she responded, scooching deeper into the seat.
“Don’t you want to watch something new?”
“I only watch movies I’ve already seen,” she explained.
He squinted at her, perplexed. “How do you watch something the first time?”
She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. “Do you want to watch a movie or not?”
He shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Vertigo it is.”