Chapter 7
I was doing well with my saying-less plan but was having a hard time listening less.
And listening meant I was learning things about Elijah Russo.
Things like the fact his last name was Russo.
That he and his brother ran a boxing gym, which surprised me.
They didn’t dress like they worked at a boxing gym.
I wasn’t sure how people who ran a boxing gym dressed (lived-in hoodies and mesh shorts?), but it definitely didn’t involve loafers.
He and Michael had a sister who lived in Washington.
Apparently, she moved there after graduating.
They grew up here … well, north of here, in a big house on the bluffs.
Or at least that’s what I gathered from how they were talking—the parties they threw, their pool, their land.
But even when Elijah wasn’t speaking, I was learning things about him.
Eating a meal with someone tended to provide insights into their preferences and opinions.
Like the fact that he didn’t like tomatoes and thought french fries were overrated.
I almost chimed in with an emphatic counterargument to the french fry position but held my tongue.
I also left the mushrooms on my omelet, even though I had strong feelings about those as well, so he couldn’t learn things about me.
Was I treating this game like a test I couldn’t fail? Maybe. But not only would I not fail, I would ace it.
“Can I…?” I turned toward Elijah, hoping he’d get the hint that I needed to stand up but was stuck against the wall in our booth seat.
“Can you what? Add something to the conversation? Yes, you can. Do you have a big family?”
“No comment,” I said.
Tara laughed, understanding my strategy. Maybe our connection from high school wasn’t completely stale.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said.
Elijah shook his head but slid down the seat to let me out. He even gave me a hand up. And because I really did have to go to the bathroom, I went. After using the restroom, I washed my hands and then checked my phone to make sure my mom hadn’t called or texted. She hadn’t.
I stepped out into the dim back hall of the restaurant, and Elijah was waiting there. At first, I thought he was waiting for the bathroom, which was a single, all-gender one. But he didn’t step through the door I held open.
“I’m here for our homework,” he said.
I released my hold on the door, and it slowly closed behind me. “What?”
“Our homework. Five minutes of uninterrupted eye contact on the days we see each other.” He leaned his shoulder against an open wall and gestured to the space beside him for me to do the same. “It is a day and we are seeing each other.”
My eyes went out to the restaurant. It wasn’t exceptionally crowded, but it wasn’t empty. The hall we stood in was tucked away, a path only for those who needed to use the restroom, but still, it felt too exposed. “Here?”
“Unless you’d like to go sit in a car or take me home.” He said that last bit in his husky voice.
“I would not,” I said.
“Then pull up a wall, baby,” he said.
“Don’t call me baby,” I said, mimicking his lean.
We faced each other, our eyes colliding as instructed by Dr. Franklin. My heart galloped at the intensity of his stare.
“Timer,” I said, averting my gaze and fumbling for my phone.
“We wouldn’t want to go a second too long.”
“Exactly,” I said.
I started the countdown and then recommitted to my lean and met his stare again.
“You like ‘button’ better than ‘baby’?”
“I like neither.”
“Sutton,” he said slowly. “What does that mean?”
“My dad was British,” I said, forgetting for a moment that I was supposed to keep my life to myself.
“Was?”
“Is. My dad is British.”
“Do I sense dad issues?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, you don’t.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared, like he knew I was lying. He had some stubble on his face today, which took away some of his polished, shiny edges. It should’ve made him less approachable, more gruff or something, but it did the opposite. It actually softened him.
He had a single thin scar through his right eyebrow, almost unnoticeable. I wondered how he got it. I would not ask. I was committed to knowing as little as possible about this very pretty man.
“You have a nice nose,” he said.
“Don’t,” I replied, bristling. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a nice nose.
It was something I liked about myself. It was just that compliments came with expectations.
He was trying to pry information out of me.
He was a grown frat boy, well versed in charming a woman, I was sure.
And his only goal was to charm me into giving up facts about myself.
“Don’t what? Don’t give you a compliment? I’m standing here staring at you. I can’t help but notice things. Like your gorgeous eyes and your glowing skin and your perfect lips.”
My brows drew closer together with each compliment until I could feel the scowl on my face.
He just laughed. “You’d think I was insulting you.”
“Just don’t,” I said.
“I’m getting to know you better and better by the second. I can see how this exercise could strengthen a relationship.”
“It’s like she knows what she’s doing. Maybe your brother and Tara would benefit from some of these skills.” If I could convince Elijah to convince his brother to go to therapy already, he and I could stop going.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Then why fight this so hard? Why this stupid bet?”
“Because I support my brother,” he said.
“Even when he makes questionable decisions?”
He rubbed at his shoulder while adjusting his position against the wall. “I’ve learned that people can’t be told they’re making questionable decisions. They have to figure it out on their own. But in the meantime, I support him.”
“So you do think he’s making a stupid decision.”
“In this case, I understand his side. Their relationship is fine. Why nitpick a good thing?”
“Strengthen is the word you used earlier.”
“You hanging on my every word?” He rubbed at his shoulder again. He had nice shoulders. Broad but lean. I wondered if his shoulder was bothering him. Was it sore? Why was it sore? No, I didn’t care.
“I have listening skills, yes,” I said.
“They have to figure out their own relationship,” he said.
“And yet here we are, right in the middle of it.”
He blinked, maybe realizing I was right. But then his teasing eyes, the ones he wore most of the time, I was learning, were back. “Are you saying we’ve made a stupid decision?”
“Phenomenally stupid.”
He let out a surprised laugh. “But you’re going to see it through.”
“One more session,” I said. Because I cared about Tara. Because I could show up for her despite the times I hadn’t in the past. “Because Tara is right, Elijah.”
“Why do you say my name like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like an expletive.”
It was my turn to give a surprised laugh. “I didn’t realize I was.”
“You are.”
“I’ll work on it,” I said.
“You have no intention of working on it, do you?”
“I’ll start by curbing the use of your name.”
“Try Eli,” he said. “Maybe one less syllable will help.”
I laughed again just as my phone started vibrating in my hand. The smile slid off my face as an image of my mom leapt into my mind, helpless in her bed. I quickly raised my phone to answer it when I saw it was just the timer going off.
I clicked the Stop button and held the phone in his direction.
“Looks like the best part of your day is over,” he said.
A voice behind us said, “Have you knocked? Is someone actually in there?”
I turned to see a middle-aged woman standing there. She pointed to the closed bathroom door.
“Oh,” I said. “We’re not waiting in line. It’s free.”
“You could’ve said so,” she grumbled, walking past us.
“How long had she been there?” I asked Elijah. He’d been the one facing the restaurant in our exercise.
“I have no idea,” he said. “I didn’t see her.”
I lowered my brow. “Really?”
“I only have eyes for you, apparently,” he said with a wink.
I groaned at the terrible joke and spun around to walk back to the table. Elijah just chuckled and followed after me.
“Did you have a quickie in the bathroom?” Michael asked when we were back.
“Ew,” I said. “Definitely not.”
“Ew?” Elijah asked as we sat down.
“A public bathroom?” I said. “Yes, a million ews.”
“So you weren’t repulsed by the thought of my brother in said bathroom?” Michael asked.
“I was ewing the bathroom, but I will extend the ew to your brother.”
Michael laughed and Elijah bumped his shoulder into mine as if I’d been teasing.
“You’ve never done it in a public bathroom?” Tara asked.
“No, and I don’t want to know if you have,” I said.
She and Michael met each other’s eyes and then sputtered out a laugh.
“What about an airplane bathroom?” Elijah asked, his brows furrowed as if this was a serious question. One that would give him all the insights into me and my life and my personality.
“An airplane bathroom?” I asked. “Those things are tiny. And public. Not only public, but you can’t just walk away from the people who saw you go in.
Who know what you did.” I studied his expression.
Had he done it in an airplane bathroom? That actually told me a lot about him.
That he didn’t care about others’ time or needs, that he didn’t follow rules, that he was driven by impulses or status or bragging rights. Like I’d thought: a frat boy.
“What’s your aversion to public places?” he asked.
“Mainly the germs,” I said, “but also the public part.”
Elijah slowly leaned closer to me and under his breath said, “You’ve never felt the urgency of needing someone immediately?” He didn’t touch me with the question, but heat seemed to radiate from his body to mine and goose bumps formed down my bare arms.
“Never,” I assured him, which was the truth. “No feeling is urgent enough to risk a staph infection. Or getting put on the no-fly list.” I took a bite of my omelet, mainly to avoid his stare.
My mouth immediately heated up, and Michael started laughing. I grabbed my water and downed half of it. “You don’t mess with people’s food,” I said. “Not cool.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
Elijah chuckled beside me, and I knew then that I’d failed today. I’d revealed too much.