Chapter 10 Introduction.
Introduction.
I wasn’t sure why I had agreed to this.
I knew I wasn’t ready to date. Hell, apparently I wasn’t ready to get up early for coffee either.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
Despite my downing a bottle of wine last night, I still managed to get up on time.
But instead of my usual routine, I lingered in front of the mirror, applying a light layer of makeup.
It wasn’t much—just enough to smooth out my complexion, brighten my eyes, and make me feel like I had my life together.
My wardrobe choices followed the same logic.
Instead of my usual salon attire, which was spotted with stray bits of hair product, I pulled out a clean, structured black work uniform with the EL’evations logo on it.
All of it finished off with a neat hair bun, polished off with the good hair sheen we used on clients that I snatched up from the salon yesterday.
I didn’t know why I was doing it. Well, I did know why. I just didn’t want to admit it.
“Woah! You look very professional, E!” Esther’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as she leaned against the kitchen counter of our shared townhouse, eyes sweeping over my outfit. “Local news visiting the shop again?”
I waved her off, forcing a casual tone. “No, no. Just felt like dressing it up today.”
She grinned. “Well, good. I like it. You look like the boss! The face of EL’evations.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks.”
But I didn’t feel like a boss. I felt like a schoolgirl dressing up to get the hot quarterback’s attention.
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t maintain this—not with everything else I had going on. Elliot hadn’t outright asked for anything more than coffee, but the interest was there. It wasn’t the first time someone showed interest, and it wouldn’t be the last.
The result will always be the same. I was too busy for this.
A man right now would be another thing demanding my attention, another thing I’d have to balance. And I would fumble. Not to mention the overwhelming trust issues I’d feel if I did attempt anything serious. It was too much, too fast. If it came down to it, I’d have to let him down easy.
At worst, I’d walk away with a free cup of coffee and an awkward story. At best, maybe a new acquaintance. Though, in my experience, it rarely ended that way.
?
Lizzie’s Café was slow for a change.
The usual hum of conversation was reduced to the occasional clink of ceramic cups and the muted whir of the espresso machine. The scent of fresh-ground coffee beans filled the air, mingling with hints of vanilla and cinnamon. A soft jazz tune played overhead, filling the gaps between conversations.
I spotted Elliot sitting at the same table as yesterday, a book in hand, peering through his glasses. I guess he wore glasses? Interesting.
I took a breath and approached.
“Hi, I’m so sorry I’m late!” I said, cringing internally. By fifteen minutes.
He looked up, smiled, and closed his book, setting it aside. “It’s fine. I only got here a few minutes ago myself.”
I relaxed at his words. “Really?”
He chuckled. “No. I got here fifteen minutes early. I just wanted to make you feel better.”
I groaned. “I’m so sorry you had to wait that long.”
“It’s okay, Ellie. I know you’re busy.” He gestured to the seat opposite him. “I appreciate you finding time to have coffee with me. Have a seat, please.”
“Thanks,” I slid into the chair, and for a brief moment, the intimacy of it all slipped in between us.
“You ready to order something to drink?” he asked, ready to wave Lizzy over.
I held my hand up to stop him, my uneasy stomach still gnawing at me from the wine I drank the night before. “Maybe later. I’m good for now, thanks.”
He eyed me suspiciously, then nodded and placed his elbows on the table, giving me his full attention. “So, Ellie. How was your morning so far?”
With a sigh, I admitted. “Hectic, as you can imagine.”
He studied me for a beat, then smiled. “Well, it doesn’t show. You look beautiful.”
Heat crept up my neck as I whispered, “Thank you.” Great. Now I was blushing.
“What about you?” I asked, steering the conversation away from myself. “How was your morning?”
“My mornings are usually calm. I don’t start work until ten, so I get to take my time.”
Lucky him.
“Where do you work?” I asked.
“Imaginate Inc.,” he said. “I’m an executive creative and lead illustrator.”
I nodded along like I understood, but I didn’t. Not in the slightest.
“I have no idea what any of that means.”
He chuckled. “It’s a comic book company. I write comics, pitch stories, and decide on the ideas we put into production.”
A head of comics, huh? “Sounds like you’re a big deal.”
“Well, I’ve been writing comics for fifteen years. I should have something to show for it.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes playful. “What about you, Ellie? You read comics?”
I scoffed. “I’ve never once read a comic book in all my twenty-seven years of life.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You’re twenty-seven?”
I tilted my head and watched his face, realizing a slight shock had settled in on it. “I am. How about you?”
He paused. “I’m thirty-nine.”
I blinked before taking in his appearance, trying my best not to look too shocked as well.
Thirty-nine? The man had less gray hair than me!
His dark, mahogany-colored skin was smooth and wrinkle-free, his physique was toned, and even with glasses, he looked like a man in his late twenties to early thirties.
In fact, the only thing that aged him was his refined taste in clothing.
His style favored sharp-tailored suits with a hint of wealth displayed in his jewelry, especially the golden crucifix on his neck.
In fact, he kind of looked like a younger, more refined Denzel Washington in Training Day.
“Wow. You don’t look thirty-nine at all,” I admitted.
He scoffed and then grinned like he had heard that sentence a million times before.
“But I am. Is my age a problem for you?” he asked, watching me closely.
I swallowed hard under his gaze. I had no problem saying no. It wasn’t like I was planning on dating him anyway. So, did it matter?
“No,” I said simply. “Not at all.”
“Good.” His lips curved. “I’d hate for that to throw you off before we get to know each other.”
I didn’t even bother asking if my age was a problem for him. It was clear it wasn’t. However, I was interested in his motive in all this.
“Hm. And just how deeply do you plan on getting to know me?”
“As deep as you allow. As deep as you’re ready for.”
I tilted my head. “Is that why you asked for this little meetup? To see if I’m ready?”
El didn’t hesitate. “I asked you here because I wanted to get to know you, Ellie.”
“Why?”
His expression softened like the answer was obvious. “Why do people usually want to get to know each other?”
“I’m not asking about other people. I’m asking about you,” I answered bluntly.
He looked amused at my retort, sipping his drink before responding.
“Well, Elliot. To put it simply, besides genuinely wanting to get to know you, I am extremely attracted to you. From the moment I mistakenly drank your coffee, I knew I had to get to know you. You’re intriguing to me.
You carry yourself so gracefully, and you’re so well-spoken.
I love the way you dress, sophisticated yet slightly seductive.
I love the way you style your hair. And honestly, you smell really fucking good. ”
Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.
I looked down at the table, exhaling slowly and then clearing my throat. “Well, thank you for saying all that. I appreciate the interest, and I’m flattered. But I’m not looking for a relationship right now if that’s where you want this to lead.”
“Okay,” he said simply.
“You understand, right?”
“I do.”
“Good.”
“But,” he added, voice even, “that doesn’t change my interest in getting to know you.”
I frowned. “Still? For what?”
El shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I just want to get to know you.”
I stared at him, thrown off by the lack of expectation, the lack of pressure.
“Oh,” I said dryly. “Okay.”
He smiled at my reaction. “Want something to drink now?”
“Yes, please.” And I didn’t mean coffee.
El waved over to Lizzie. As he did, his sleeve pulled back slightly, exposing the ink on his bicep.
“Hey, Liz,” he called. “Can I get another mocha, please?”
Lizzie smirked. “No problem.”
Elliot turned back to me, grinning. “No almond milk. Only oat milk.”
Lizzie laughed as she grabbed a cup. “I know, El.”
I raised a brow. “You remembered.”
“Of course.” He rested his arms on the table, his gaze steady. “You have a tree nut allergy.”
I glanced at his tattoo, then back into his eyes. “That I do.”
El leaned back in his chair and watched me. “We can’t afford to have you ending up in the hospital on the first date. It’s not a good look.”
I sighed dramatically. “It would leave a lasting impression, though. I promise I won’t forget it.”
He laughed so deeply and richly that I found myself appreciating his easygoingness. Had it been Jonathan, I would’ve gotten a lecture on how it’s impolite to joke about allergic reactions, followed by a long-winded speech on the importance of recognizing the dangers of exposure.
Unintentionally, this was a refreshing change of pace.
Elliot’s eyes glinted with something unreadable. “Don’t worry, I don’t need to send you to the ER, Ellie. I have my own ways of leaving an impression.”
My heart stuttered at his implication. Heat threatened to creep up my neck, so I did the only logical thing: I changed the subject. My eyes flicked to his forearm.
“So,” I said, pointing. “What’s the tattoo covering up?”
El glanced down, then rolled up his sleeve, exposing a highly detailed dragon inked across his forearm.
“This?” He flexed his arm slightly, watching me with interest. “How could you tell it’s a cover-up?”
It was obvious to someone who used to binge-watch Ink Master with her sister. “There’s a lot of heavy shading around it,” I observed, tilting my head as I studied the design.
He chuckled. “Good eye.”
“What was it?”
For the first time since I had met him, hesitation flickered in his confident expression. Then, with a casualness that felt slightly forced, he admitted, “It was a matching tattoo with my ex-wife. It hurt like a bitch and took forever to heal.”
I choked on air and tried to play it off as clearing my throat. “You were married?”
I didn’t know why I was so surprised. He was mature and confident—of course, he had a past. But married?
“Yes. I was.”
“For how long?”
“Thirteen years.”
I blinked. That’s a long time. “How long have you been divorced?”
“Three years.”
“Do you have kids?”
“No.”
“Why’d you get divorced?”
Elliot leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “So many questions, Ellie. Maybe save some for the second date?”
Baby, my trust issues were already kicking in. You would be lucky if there was going to be a second date.
Before I could formulate a response, Lizzie placed my mocha in front of me. The rich scent of spiced chocolate poured out of the cup and seeped through my senses, but suddenly, I wasn’t in the mood for it anymore.
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like how you’re brushing this conversation off.”
El sighed, rubbing a hand over his bearded jaw. “Look, I swear to you. I’m not still involved with my ex-wife if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s in a very serious relationship and very pregnant on the other side of the world. There’s nothing going on between us.”
I studied him, searching for cracks in his composure. He seemed sincere, but skepticism still lingered in the back of my mind.
“Are you in a relationship at all?” I pressed.
His expression didn’t waver. “No, Elliot. I am completely single. I wouldn’t be sitting here trying to get to know you if I wasn’t. I’m not that type of person.”
That was the problem.
I didn’t know what kind of person he was, and yet I was too scared to learn.
“Right,” I muttered, playing with the cup handle. “I’m sorry if that was intense.”
“It’s okay.” His voice softened. “Let’s just take a step back, okay?”
I exhaled, nodding. “Okay.”
“Good.” A small pause. Then, he leaned in slightly. “Are you free this Saturday?”
I swallowed hard. The smart thing to do would be to say no. To ghost him right here and now. I’d have to find a new coffee shop, but this was California—how hard could that be?
Still, against my better judgment, I answered.
“I have to teach a beauty class from nine to one, but after that, I’m free. Why?”
“There’s a meeting of Black creatives being hosted downtown,” he explained.
“I think you’d enjoy it. I’d love for you to come with me.
Maybe we could get to know each other in a less intimate setting—you might feel more comfortable opening up.
There’s a demonstration session where you could even put your skills on display.
After all, the best way to know an artist is through their work. ”
I considered it. It did sound interesting.
“Hmm.”
El leaned back, watching me. “I can send you all the details if you’d like. Can I have your number?”
No. No. Absolutely not. I should just cut and run, shove the warm and fuzzy feelings into the dark corners of my brain, and move on. I wanted to so badly. But, for the first time in a long time, I felt optimistic.
And maybe, for now, that was enough. Maybe things didn’t always have to be so heavy.
“Sure.”