8. Elouise
Elouise
No way.
Absolutely no fucking way.
I… I don’t even know what to think right now.
Last time I saw Beckett he… holy hell he didn’t look like this! How is he getting hotter? I do the math in my head, 38, this motherfucker is 38 years old and looking finer than he ever has before.
While I stand gawking at his stupidly handsome face, I catch snippets of what he’s saying. “Grew up in Darling Lake… Went to the same school… Loved camping…”
This can’t be happening.
Can not be happening.
The universe has it out for me when it comes to Beckett Stoleman. Every time I see him, I make a fool of myself. Each time worse than the last.
At least I don’t have acne this time, which is the best thing I can say about my current situation.
The crowd laughs at something he says, and I force my ears to listen.
“… because someday you might find yourself in a situation where it’s just you and Mother Nature.” Beckett’s eyes scan the crowd, then stop directly on mine. “And if we take care of her, she just might take ca re of us.”
My pulse spikes and I swear to god my vagina just converted herself from a storeroom into a waterslide. But that’s just too bad because I’m not taking these fucking leggings off to change my panties.
When Beckett’s gaze travels away from me, I suck in a breath.
Rebecca smothers a chuckle next to me, “You okay?”
I start to nod automatically, but quickly switch to shaking my head, “Not even kinda.”
She nudges me with her elbow, “What is it?”
Keeping my eyes on Beckett, I whisper back, “I know him. Or, well, knew him.”
Rebecca’s voice is just as quiet, which is good because she just goes for it, “Did you guys used to bang?”
Her question is so absurd, a laugh jumps up my throat. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I try to catch it, but it just comes out as a loud snort-cough.
Several pairs of eyes turn my way, so I slide my hand down to my chest, like I’m just clearing my throat.
When people’s attention moves back to Beckett, I chance a glance at him, hoping he didn’t hear me. But he’s staring right at me. Or rather, he’s staring at the hand I have on my chest.
I drop my hand and he looks away.
“Oh, baby!” Rebecca snickers, “I can feel the sexual tension already. This is gonna be fun to watch.”
“Oh my god, shut up!” I hiss as quietly as I can.
“Not until you promise to tell me the whole story.
“Fine. I promise,” I toss back the rest of my coffee, wishing it was something stronger.
It’ll probably be nice to tell Rebecca about my not so sordid past with Beckett.
Talking always helps me sort a situation.
And once I walk through it, Rebecca will see she’s way off base with her sexual tension comment.
For that to be possible, both parties need to be interested.
This is just a case of teenaged, unrequited love turned adult embarrassment.
Honestly, I’d bet money that he doesn’t even recognize me. Let alone think about me like that .