20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Elowen Briar
“Is this really the best time to discuss my kinks?”
The car smells like old coffee and the lemon wipes Imani uses on the dashboard.
The engine hums low as she pulls away from the curb, and the bookstore windows slip out of view behind.
I watch the reflection of the shop stutter across the side mirror until it disappears, replaced by a line of maple trees and a bus stop bench with peeling blue paint.
“Well,” Imani says, tapping the steering wheel in time with the radio. “That was a journey to watch.”
I sink lower into the seat and groan. “Please never make me talk to another human being again. I would like to disappear now.”
She laughs, loud and bright, the sound filling the car. “Oh no, absolutely not. We are unpacking that immediately. You can’t just avoid flirting and then pretend like it didn’t happen.”
“I did flirt, to the best of my abilities, at least.”
She cuts me a look. “Are we going to pretend like you didn’t begrudgingly agree to pay for that book with a text conversation?”
The road curves past a row of brick townhouses with tiny front gardens. Someone has planted marigolds in old tires, and they glow orange against the gray sidewalk. I watch them blur. “I was trying to be normal and not seem like a total freak.”
“Normal people normally don’t panic and grab the kinkiest book on the shelf,” she says. “Especially not the particular title you chose.”
I press my face into my hands. “You’re never going to let this go, are you? I wasn’t thinking. I freaked!”
“Never,” she says cheerfully. “Also, I love that for you. Kinky little Elowen showing her true colors.”
“I am not little,” I say, peeking through my fingers. “And I didn’t realize which book I was handing him until I was up there. Maybe he didn’t notice?”
“Possibly,” she says. “And listen, I was watching, very closely, and he didn’t look scandalized. If anything, he looked interested.”
The car passes the river, sunlight flashing off the water in broken strips. “You think so?” I open the paper on my lap and glance at the cover once more. It seems I picked up Bound, Battered, and Chained. The cover shows a set of feminine hands in metal handcuffs.
“Oh, absolutely,” Imani says, gesturing at the cover of my book. “I would bet money he’s into something. Maybe not handcuffs like she is, but something.”
“I guess there are worse things to out about yourself. Handcuffs shouldn’t be a shocking choice.
You, my friend, are telling on yourself though.
Not that I should probably share this with you, but…
” I let out a chuckle and scroll to a text that I had chosen to ignore from the first ever conversation I had with Beau.
“Now that is telling on yourself.” she says, laughing.
“Good thing he knows what you read now, Elowen.” We stop at a red light.
A cyclist waits beside us, balancing with one foot on the curb, earbuds in, nodding to her music.
The light turns green and we roll forward, past the grocery store with its sun-faded banners.
“I hate you,” I say, but I’m smiling.
“You love me,” she replies. “So, you like this guy, huh?”
I hide my face under my hands. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I very much do.”
As we get closer to my neighborhood, the houses space out, lawns growing wider and a little wilder. There’s a swing set in one yard, the seat twisting slowly in the breeze. Imani turns down my street, the familiar cracked asphalt and the oak tree at the corner making my chest loosen.
She pulls up in front of my house and puts the car in park.
“All right. Get out. Go process your bookstore meet-cute.” I open the door, then pause.
She adds, without thinking, “Tell Lise I love her.” There is a beat of silence.
She freezes, eyes wide, then groans. “Holy shit, El. I’m sorry.
That was muscle memory. Please forget I said that. ”
I laugh softly. “She wouldn’t mind.”
“I know,” she says. “I am just so used to her being here. Even after all this time, it’s like I just associate this house with her presence.
You’re right though. She’s probably laughing at us even as we speak.
I think she’d really like Beau.” She clears her throat, attempting to steer the conversation in a happier direction.
“I have to get back to some paperwork. Oh yeah, I need to finish that application tonight. Classes for next fall aren’t going to apply to themselves. ”
“You’re really doing it,” I say.
“Yeah,” she replies, nodding. “Terrifying and exciting. Mostly terrifying. Just a girl who wants every degree under her belt.”
I step out of the car and shut the door, leaning back in through the window. “I know the feeling. You’re going to be great. You’re already great.”
She smiles, a little softer now. “Go inside, Elowen. And try not to scare any more attractive men with your secrets.”
“I make no promises,” I smile, and she drives off, the sound of her engine fading down the street as I turn toward my front door. I step into the house and let out the large breath I’ve been holding all day.
Grandma, I’m home.
I slide on to the couch and allow Genie to lay against me. Beau asked for another text conversation, but I have no idea how in the world to text him without fucking it up.
You’ve got this, Elowen. It’s just a text. Come on. You can do this.
To: Beau Drewitt:
What building has the most stories?
A dad joke. I’ve officially started something that has no chance of ending well.