Chapter 17
I’m in my tiny living room, rain pattering on the window as I scroll through my options on Netflix.
Impatiently, I tap a foot on the floor. I’m feeling so restless.
I’ve watched two movies already, and I’m sick of being stuck inside.
Lazy days don’t usually bother me. Back home in the Netherlands, I always enjoy taking a day off from numbers, bills, and stacks of documents.
But not here and not now. I want to dig in, make myself useful, take our beachside restaurant to the next level.
For a moment, I watch as raindrops clatter down onto the windowpane, then shake my head and walk over to my closet.
I toss on some old clothes, tie my hair into a top knot, and head downstairs.
The wall on the right is still a little damp after Mia and I painted it yesterday and got about halfway through.
The plan is to paint the wall where the washroom doors are blue, but we haven’t had a chance to return to the store yet.
I turn on a playlist of guilty-pleasure tunes, pour some white paint into the paint tray, and roll the paint roller through it so I can finish up the white wall.
I belt out Uptown Girl so loudly that I almost miss the little bleep alerting me to an incoming message. As I continue to hum, I take my phone out of my pocket and my heart does a tiny leap when I see the name Elias show up on the screen.
Elias: What are you up to?
My lips curl into a smile while I tap out my reply.
Eva: Painting the restaurant.
I add in a picture of the half-painted wall and hit send. Things go quiet for a moment until my phone beeps at me again.
Elias: Need a hand?
Okay, maaaybe I ran upstairs after that message to change into the pants that Mia says give me a killer ass.
And maaaybe I swapped out my oversized, ketchup-stained shirt for a fitted top with a deep-V neckline.
I also maaaay have exchanged my sports bra for one that offers much less support and looks much more like something that romantic interests in rom-coms have surprisingly little trouble unclasping.
When I hear a gentle knock at the patio door and see Elias peeking inside as he stands in the rain, I jump up to let him in. He gives me a sexy smile as he shakes out his wet hair.
This weather is brutal, he says, setting the bucket he’s holding down on the ground. I was completely dry just ten seconds ago.
I hand him a towel I find behind the bar and nod. Then my eyes land on the paint bucket he brought with him. What’s that? I ask curiously.
Elias follows my gaze and grins. It’s paint. Blue paint. Or ‘dark teal,’ as they called it at the store. After Saturday, I had a pretty clear sense of the colour you were going for.
The corners of his mouth turn up into a teasing smile and I feel my cheeks flush with heat thinking back to all the ways that paint got transferred onto his clothes.
He takes off his raincoat, hangs it over the back of a chair and rolls up the sleeves of his dark green shirt.
He’s wearing a worn-in pair of jeans that sit low on his hips.
He looks... hot. After using the towel to dry his head, his damp hair tumbles into a tousled mess around his face.
Double hot. He looks at me with an inquisitive twinkle in his eye, like he knows I’ve been shamelessly studying him.
Put me to work.
I point at the wall I was working on right before I stormed upstairs for a change of clothes like some kind of lunatic. The stripe of new paint stops about halfway up the wall. I’m working on that one. Maybe you can start with the other wall and we’ll work toward each other?
When I pass him a roller, his fingers graze across the back of my hand. A shiver rolls through me and I glance up at him. There’s a look in his eyes that’s doing unexpected things to my body.
Roger that, he says, quirking up a corner of his mouth. He dips his roller in the tray and begins to paint.
If I was under any impression that Elias was only built for typing on a keyboard and studying little fish, I was sorely mistaken.
With Michelangelo-level finesse, he rolls paint onto the wall, flexing his arms as he presses down on the roller.
I cast sneaky glances his way, only to quickly look away in embarrassment any time I catch his eye.
Where did you learn how to do that? I ask, loading up my roller with more paint.
I love working with my hands, he says, shrugging.
I’m in charge of project development and whenever I can, I try to help out with some of the odd jobs.
They mostly just let me paint. Apparently I’m not ‘qualified’ to install plumbing or lay bricks.
He shakes his head with a chuckle as he grabs a brush and neatly begins to paint around the edges of the taped-off outlets.
I get that, I reply. I feel the same way about the restaurant.
I love crawling into bed at night feeling physically exhausted.
It feels like I’ve really done something, you know?
Don’t get me wrong—I love the work I get to do at my day job, but.
.. It’s more mentally draining. It doesn’t energize me the same way.
Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with my brain all abuzz.
‘Come on, let’s go over your risk analysis presentation for tomorrow just one more time. ’
Elias hums in recognition as he starts on a new section of the wall.
I let out a sigh. That has barely happened to me since I got here.
Of course I was worried about the financial situation at first..
. But now that we’re doing so well, that feeling is gone.
I let out another deep breath. Also... I don’t know.
It feels good to really be able to make a difference here, I think.
I love that I can help out my grandparents like this.
It’s good to see them laughing more and they seem so much happier now that there’s a light at the end of the financial misery tunnel.
A silence falls between us. I can sense that Elias is watching me.
You love them a lot, don’t you? he observes quietly. It’s so impressive how hard you’ve fought for them. Not everyone would do that.
I glance over and notice a look of warmth in his eyes. I nod. They’re the kindest people I know.
We drop into a silence that’s only challenged by the cheesy music and the sound of paint rollers. When the Beach Boys song God Only Knows comes on, I squee in delight. Elias flashes me a massive grin.
You like this one? he chuckles.
That all-too-familiar flushed feeling returns to my cheeks, so I spend a little extra attention on the section of wall I’ve been working on.
It feels like we’re not quite in the zone where I can unabashedly admit that this is my sing-out-loud-in-the-shower song.
It mostly reminds me of Love, Actually. That’s one of my favourite movies, I explain, my face bright red as I manoeuver my roller around a light switch.
It’s the most famous song in the movie. When Elias gives me a bewildered look, I continue, You know.
That last scene at the airport? The one where everyone is hugging?
He flashes me another I-have-no-clue-what-the-hell-you’re-talking-about expression.
You... You’ve never seen Love, Actually?! I exclaim, completely scandalized.
My exasperated expression makes Elias laugh and he shakes his head. I’m afraid not. Although I’m very open to watching it some time... In the right company, of course.
My heart leaps in my chest when I imagine us watching the movie together, glasses of red wine in hand. I picture how I would lean up against him during the sad scene of Daniel’s wife’s funeral. I’m guaranteed to sob every single time that part comes on.
Sounds like a plan, I reply, trading my roller for a wide brush so I can paint one of the beams. The movie has the cutest scene ever.
Elias tilts his head to the side. Oh yeah?
There’s this thirteen-year-old boy who’s hopelessly in love with this girl who he’s barely said a word to before.
He takes drum lessons and then joins a band to impress her, and, at the end of the movie, he races through an entire airport so he can tell her he loves her.
I sweep my paint brush carefully along the wood.
It’s just so sweet. Just this pure, sincere crush.
No games, no concerns about looking goofy.
Nope. This kid is all in. Sure, he might break the law a teeny tiny bit, but that seems justified in this context, I think.
When I look over, Elias has a big smile on his face. He’s working quickly and it’s bringing him closer and closer to me. What’s your favourite movie? I ask him.
Oof, tough question, he replies. I’m not the biggest fan of romantic comedies, but... Hey!
He stops mid-sentence as I turn around to dip my brush in the paint.
My hand flies to my mouth and I stare wide-eyed at the swish of white paint on his cheek. Shit! I’m sorry! You were closer than I realized and I...
A playful sparkle appears in Elias’s gorgeous eyes as he very casually picks up a brush, plunges it into the paint, and turns back to face me.
You did that because I don’t like romantic comedies, didn’t you? he says, a devilish grin teasing his lips.
Eyes wide, I glance from Elias’s face to the brush and back. It was an accident! You’re not going to...
When he takes another step closer to me, I let out a little scream and run for cover behind the nearest table. Elias breaks into a sprint that takes him to the opposite side of the table. We circle each other like two leopards, each of us armed with a paintbrush and a maniacal expression.
Elias tries to fake me out by dodging one way and I screech in surprise before attempting to take cover behind another table.
But Elias has no trouble catching up with me, because he loves cardio workouts and I love Miguelitos.
His long fingers wrap around my wrist as he pulls me to a stop.
I watch the thick blob of paint on his brush swing toward my cheek in slow motion.
When I manage to swerve just in time, the movement throws me entirely off balance.
As I wobble on one leg, I desperately try and fail to regain my balance.
Elias reaches out his hand in an attempt to catch me, but I can’t quite grab hold of him.
I let out a shriek when I land on my ass, but not before kicking out my leg, accidentally nailing Elias in the shin, and completely flooring him.
With a yelp, he lands on top of me, still brandishing his paintbrush.
Smooth, I criticize his battle strategy.
We stare at each other for a moment, then simultaneously burst into laughter. Elias’s whole face lights up and the laugh lines beside his eyes really suit him.
Our laughter slowly fades the longer we stare at each other.
As our expressions turn serious, our chests are heaving, almost synchronized as we hold each other’s gaze.
I faintly hear the drop of a paintbrush hitting the wooden floor before I feel Elias’s fingers graze along my collar bone and travel up to my neck.
Electricity sparks through me when he sweeps away a strand of hair that’s stuck to my lips and tucks it behind my ear.
It’s impossible to look away. Wide pupils that make his big brown eyes seem almost black, his full lips slightly parted as he stares at me.
He moves his face closer and closer to mine until his lips trail along my jaw. Beautiful, he mutters softly.
My breathing is very shallow. I feel how Elias’s sturdy body presses into mine, sending every single one of my cells into high alert. His other hand comes up to cup my face.
When his lips finally connect with mine, everything around me goes quiet. He kisses me again. And again. His lips are warm and soft and I part mine so he can slip his tongue inside.
He smells like rain, musk, and pine trees. Like he just marched into the woods to single-handedly saw down a Christmas tree. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me.
I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this.