Chapter 8
Eli
“W ait, you told her that you love her?” Nolan jumps into the private conversation I’m trying to have with Finn at the bar. I know, not the best place, but it’s the first time I’ve been able to snag him.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.
“That’s ballsy, man. Not sure I could ever do that,” Graham says, shaking his head.
“I mean, she’s hot and all, but haven’t you only known each other for a few weeks,” Nolan’s still ragging on me.
“When you know, you know.” Finn cuffs Nolan in the shoulder. “But of course, you being you, you wouldn’t know.”
Nolan laughs. “I’m good not knowing. I’m perfectly content with the women in my life.”
“You mean, not in your life.” Finn eggs him on.
“Exactly. Worrying about Poppy is enough for me. No wife. No kids. No worries.”
“Your sister is hardly someone to worry about. Especially now that she’s got Ryder,” I say. Poppy’s lucky to have someone, even though he did move her to the big city.
Nolan guffaws, like an actual booming laugh slash scoff. “Now that she’s got Ryder, I’m more concerned.”
“That’ll pass,” Finn reassures him.
“Right. And how do you know that?” Nolan’s trying to ask tough by crossing his arms over his chest, but I can tell he’s curious about Finn’s answer. Too bad he doesn’t realize it’s a setup.
“That level of idiocy can’t be healthy. It’s got to have an expiration date. Right, Eli?” Finn laughs.
“My idiocy can’t be worse than Eli confessing his undying love in the middle of sex.”
“Thanks, bro.” I slap Nolan on the back. Hard. “I need some air.”
***
Summer
It must have been my subconscious, but I’m rolling past Hoppy’s on my way out of town when I see Eli step outside the front door.
Shit. He sees me and gives a little wave. Almost like he’s embarrassed. But not quite.
Slowly, he saunters over and motions for me to roll down the window.
“Hey—” he stops when his eyes scan the inside of my car. There is obvious luggage in here with me. “Where are you going?”
I could lie: Oh nowhere. Just out for a drive with my bags. These old things? I take ‘em everywhere.
I could tell the truth: I’m scared shitless of where this is going, and I just need space to clear my head, but full disclosure, I don’t know if I’ll be back because I’d rather run than get trampled on.
I could feign ignorance: Me going somewhere? You must be dreaming. I’m just a figment of your imagination. You don’t actually see me.
Instead, I go with some variation of the truth. I simply say, “Home.” It’s intentionally vague, but he’s not an idiot. He figures it out. And he’s nodding his head to tell me he gets it.
I brace myself for him to yell at me. Curse at me. Insult me. Throw me some sarcastic comments. I’m waiting for him to be passive aggressive at the very least. Or maybe his style is to be manipulative. Shit. Now my butt cheeks are clenched in anticipation of all the guilt he’s about to heap on me.
But nope.
He only says, “Okay. See you when you get back.” No trace of anger or irritation on his face.
Cute that he thinks I’m coming back. But also…huh. Nothing explosive? Nothing manipulative? Nothing but a mature reply?
“Wait. Just one more thing.”
Oh shit. Here it comes.
I watch him reach into the open window. His hand crosses over my body and toward the ignition. Damn it. He better not steal my keys. I don’t stop him though. I merely watch.
Phew. He just turned off the car.
“What are you going home for?” he asks casually, like it’s normal to be having a light conversation in the middle of the street with a girl he confessed his love to in the middle of an orgasm.
And probably because of all of those juxtaposing facts, here’s where all rational thinking goes out the window that’s wide open beside me.
I say, “Gotta check on my cat.”
“You don’t have a cat.
“My neighbor does.”
“And?”
“And the little nugget sometimes comes for a visit when he’s hungry or locked out.”
“Does she?”
“Ya, she does. She loves the snacks I give her.”
“He or she?”
“What?”
“You said ‘he’ first. Then you said ‘she.’”
“Does it matter?” I’m super flustered right now.
“Yup. It matters a lot, actually.”
I don’t know what we’re talking about anymore. But he just pats the frame of my car, looks me dead in the eye and says, “I know what you’re doing, Summer. If you need the space, take it. But just remember one thing, babe. I’m the exception. We’re friends. Always will be. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll see you when you get back.”
He walks away, presumably back into the bar, but I don’t take notice of that fact because I’m stunned in my seat. I’m too shocked to cry. Numb. I’m not angry. Not relieved. Not anything. Pure shock is filtering through my system while I process what just happened.
I don’t understand it yet, but I do know one thing. That little valve of my heart is still tightly sealed. No seeping air. No deflating. Weird to think of my heart as a balloon, shouldn’t that be my lungs? Nurses would hate this analogy. But it’s my heart, and I say it still feels inflated.
So I don’t drive home. At least, not back to Calgary. Instead, I drive straight back to my hotel. And I sit there. Thinking. For a long ass time until I finally send the text that I should have sent all along.
Me: Come see me.
There’s no reply, but Eli arrives within fifteen minutes, knocking on my door. I don’t waste a second, I throw open the door and haul him inside, slamming him against the wall. My mouth is on his, eager to taste him. He’s unlike any man I’ve ever known.
His hands grab my ass and pull me in close.
“What.” He kisses me full on with his tongue sweeping into my mouth, pulls back, takes a deep breath, and finishes his sentence. “Changed?”
“I love you, too.” Breathlessly, I confess. “I’m an idiot, Eli.”
“I’m the idiot, I should have never said that in the middle of having sex.”
“It doesn’t matter. You did. And I hated it. But then I loved it. And I love you. This is unlike anything I’ve ever had before. You didn’t get mad at me. You didn’t manipulate me. You’re not toxic. You’re a very mature human being.”
“As sexy as that is—”
“And you’re hot as fuck.”
He chuckles before nibbling on my neck.
“It’s everything about you, Eli. You’re amazing. Protective. Fun. Mature. Hot. Everything I could ever want. And I want to be here with you.”
“Forever.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Mmm. Yes. That sounds good.”
“It sounds perfect.”
And that’s when the tears do come. His thumbs swipe away at the moisture.
“It’s okay, baby.”
“It’s too good to be true, Eli.” Resting my forehead on his chest, I let his hands brush my hair and rub circles on my back.
“Some good things are just the right amount of good.”
“But you’re perfect. Something’s bound to happen.”
“It already has.”
“What?” I demand with a slight pout.
“I’m terrible at getting my picture taken. And you’re a photographer, for Pete’s sake.”
That makes me chuckle. “Okay. Fine. That’s true. I guess you’re not perfect.”
“See? That makes us perfect for each other.”
His arms around me feel too good, too comforting, too strong, too right.
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Eli. I can’t believe you exist.”
“We were made for each other, Summer. There’s no doubt in my mind. I just had to convince you.”
“Well, you did.”
“What do you say we take this to the bedroom?”
“Or the couch?”
“Whichever is closer.” He scoops me up and hauls me away.
Eli. The hottest man I’ve ever met. But more than that, he’s my best friend. And that will never change.