Chapter 1 #2
“Nah. It can’t be a line if it’s true,” he told her.
“A squiggle, maybe.” Drake signed for the checks and asked if he could walk her home.
Ellie glanced out the window. The overcast sky looked like it had a personal vendetta against them.
“I’ve got an umbrella,” he said, reading her mind.
Ellie’s apartment was more of a train ride away, but she agreed to a long walk.
It was brisk for a late-spring night. Without words, Drake pulled his jean jacket off and slid it over her shoulders. Outside, he expanded his trusty umbrella and held it above them. “Hey, thanks for letting me walk with you. I’m enjoying trying to solve The Case of the Girl at the Bar.”
Ellie nudged him as they started down the sidewalk, letting some of the rain into their bubble. “Sounds like you’ve read some Nancy Drew.”
“Of course I have. Who hasn’t?” Drake wrapped his arm around her and drew her in close. All the lights in her body turned on, brightening rooms Ellie hadn’t known existed.
What Ellie liked about Drake, she decided, was this.
He was a beer guy without being a sports guy, a denim guy without being a horse guy.
A definitive Pisces. He’d felt guilty for a second when he mentioned outmaneuvering the bartender, his level of empathy unwavering even when he was the victor.
His voice went up an octave when he mentioned Nancy Drew.
Drake had been invested in her work without being threatened by it, or worse, wanting to use it as some small ladder for himself.
Mostly, she could picture sitting in comfortable silence for hours at a time in bed with him.
She was getting ahead of herself.
Ellie had slipped up that night, she knew.
She needed to focus on the story, and she’d barely spoken to anyone else at the bar.
But maybe Drake was the story. Maybe the hook about Finn’s was what had happened naturally: it was the type of place where a woman could meet the last good single guy out there.
It was cheesy, and Ellie was no romantic.
This reminder made her do what she did best, the long-practiced art of self-sabotage.
“What’s wrong with you, anyway?” Ellie asked.
“Come on.” Drake’s hand found her back. He was getting— slightly—bolder. “What kind of a question is that, ‘what’s wrong with me’?”
“You just seem kind of perfect,” she said, gesturing for them to turn onto the street that eventually led to her apartment. Drake followed her lead.
“I was thinking the same thing. So, what’s wrong with you—”
“Seriously, though. What’s your baggage?
” Ellie caught a glimpse of them reflected in the glass window of a wine store.
They looked great together. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to think that maybe this would be their wine store one day.
She’d ask Drake to run out and buy a bottle while she stayed home and botched the dinner.
“Wouldn’t that be refreshing? If we just spilled all our secrets, right here, right now? ”
“Yeah, I guess,” Drake agreed. “But see …” His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. “I don’t have any baggage.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Everybody has baggage.”
“Okay fine, maybe, mine is more like a carry-on,” Drake said. “It’s a nice travel backpack. Practical, compact.”
They were only a few blocks from Ellie’s apartment when she started into the intersection. A walk signal hadn’t lit up yet, but there were no cars on either side and no sound of wheels sloshing through the rain. The storm had turned the streets into a private city just for them.
“Aren’t you going to—” Drake stood alone on the curb.
“I looked both ways.” Ellie was already halfway across the street. The rain had slowed, but it was still coming down. “Why wait for the light when you can look for yourself?”
“Well, I’ve been told I play it safe,” Drake said, following her footsteps with slight hesitation.
“In fact …” The shelter of the umbrella found her again.
“I even had to psych myself up to suggest a walk. I don’t normally walk at night, especially in the rain.
But, you know. Umbrella. And also, I wanted to keep talking to you. ”
Ellie grinned. “Well, thanks for not leaving me to drown, Mary Poppins.”
The urge to invite Drake up to her apartment was strong, but whatever was happening here was meant to aerate. Besides, Ellie couldn’t remember what kind of clothing Rorschach would be waiting for them on the floor.
“Thanks for the walk,” Ellie said. A curtain of rain fell between them as she stepped back.
“Yeah,” Drake told her. “Well, now I know where you live. Wow. That sounded creepy. I just meant I should probably get your number, too.”
“ Probably get my number?”
“Just playing it safe again.”
“Oh, come on, Drake. I talked to you for three hours at a bar and walked with you for what would’ve been a three-minute ride home.” Ellie held out her hand. Drake reached to grab it. “Your phone,” she chuckled. “I was asking for your phone.”
“Right.” He pulled his cell phone out and handed it over, stepping closer to shield her from the storm again as she typed her number in and assigned it a playful name he read aloud. “The Girl at the Bar.” He nodded.
Ellie kissed his cheek. “Good night, Drake.”
She could feel him watching her as she splashed through a few rain puddles and greeted a neighbor who was always walking her dog at an inopportune time. Ellie pretended to look for new mail, even though she already had earlier that day, to feel him there a second longer, his eyes on her.
The next morning, Ellie sat on her balcony with a half-finished crossword. A sound jolted her out of her thoughts as she struggled to figure out six down, “a powerful attraction.” The sound was a text.
Guess I’ll see you soon, jacket thief , it read. Drake’s jacket was sitting inside the sliding glass door. It dangled from the back of her dining chair as if it had always existed there, waiting to be worn again.
Magnet , Ellie scribbled into the crossword squares before responding, How do you feel about Mexican food?
I feel good about it if it’s tonight , Drake replied.
Then: Sorry. That was forward. Ellie could almost hear his throat clearing between the messages. She tossed her legs up on the chair opposite her and waited for another response. A cardinal flitted down onto the balcony, splashing its feathers in a puddle.
Then: Let me rephrase. Are you and my jacket free for dinner?
Ellie hesitated. Drake liked the version of her he had seen last night.
This was the best version of Ellie—the version that had been practiced and refined over the years to create a certain impression.
This Ellie was fun and carefree and kept the dark parts tucked away—the parts of herself that, if revealed, might send Drake running.
Ellie tried to set those parts aside a little longer. Despite the conversation she’d started about baggage the night before, he didn’t need to find out her whole story yet.
Yes , she typed, looking over at his jacket as if it might weigh in on everything that would follow. We’re free tonight.