Chapter 9
Vaughn
Elijah jumps at the invitation to stay after dinner and play Uno. His phone rings twice while we play, and each time he silences it without checking to see who’s calling. He has it on silent now, so I wouldn’t even know it is still ringing if the vibration wasn’t so loud.
Eli takes a beating in six hands of Uno, so he’s more than willing to throw in the towel when I suggest we watch a movie.
What’s odd is that I sit on the loveseat, and he sits on the couch.
His chosen distance surprises me. Did he contract a contagious disease in the last three minutes?
He hasn’t been vague about his interest in me, but he passed on the opportunity to sit next to me.
What is that about? I catch him looking at me all throughout the movie, just as I have since we first met, and just like then, he doesn’t look away or get embarrassed.
He doesn’t care. It’s me who breaks eye contact each time.
Is that why he sits so far away? So he doesn’t have to crane his neck to look at me?
“Tell me about the novel.”
His words come out of nowhere and surprise me.
“Huh?”
“The book you’re writing. The one you can’t translate to the keys. Start at the beginning.”
He wants me to tell him my story? I’ve never shared it with anyone.
No one has ever asked, though. Is it a secret?
Don’t I hope to publish it someday? So, no.
Not a secret. Maybe talking about it can break something loose and get the creative juices flowing.
Maybe even put a dent in this block I have.
“Okay, so it’s a story about a thirty-year-old woman who-”
“No. Read it to me. The way it’s written in your head.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Chapter 1. Matilda wakes to the eerie sound of a chainsaw. Her first thought is that the vampire pygmies have learned to use tools. Like that.”
My giggle makes him smile.
“Matilda? Vampire pygmies?” My giggling continues. “First of all, Matilda is only the name of the leading lady when she’s an adorable, misunderstood, magical child.”
“Oh. What’s your leading lady’s name?”
“Neve.”
“Wait! What’s the title?”
His expression is near frantic. He acts as though I’m about to publish and forgot to title the book.
“Still working on that part.”
His wide eyed, strained expression smooths, and he leans his head back onto the chair with a heavy sigh. “Okay. We’ll keep thinking on that part.”
The ‘we’ in that statement does things to my heart that I can’t define even for myself.
“What about the dedication? Start there.”
His eyes are closed, and he appears to be reaching a state of zen.
“Dedication: For my mom, the woman who always said I could but didn’t get to be here to see that I did.”
The movement could have gone unnoticed if my eyes hadn’t been pinned on him, but they are, so I see his icy blue eyes open and land on me. He’s assessing. Slowly, and without saying another word, he closes his eyes again.
“Prologue.”
My next several minutes are spent narrating my story from memory. It’s much easier than anticipated, and I still can’t believe I’m sharing this with a man I met just last night. Maybe I’m just happy that he wants to hear it. Eli remains silent throughout until I say, “Chapter 2.” He stops me there.
“Thank you for sharing that with me. Thanks for dinner and the card games. Even though you cheated. The movie too.”
“You bought dinner, and why would I need to cheat when you practically beat yourself?” My tone is flat and very matter of fact.
“So, on a ten-scale, how close am I to forgiveness for that unpleasantness this morning?” For once, he isn’t looking at me. His eyes are downturned, and he’s rubbing the back of his neck again. He’s nervous. Try not to melt right here on the spot, Vaughn.
“I don’t recall you ever asking for forgiveness.” The words leave my mouth, even though I forgave him before I’d fully digested the first dumpling. I’m someone who’s fond of her grudges, but I like to think that I hold them against people who are truly deserving of my ire.
Elijah stands and comes over to me. My neck is strained as I attempt to look up at him from my much lower vantage point on the couch.
What he does next has my ears popping like I’m in flight and my skin flushing as though I’m a breath away from fainting.
Elijah drops to his knees in front of me, taking both of my hands into his much larger ones.
His hands are calloused, but gentle. “Vaughn.” Holy lust-filled haze, Christian Grey.
His voice is low and sincere, and I think I have a tiny orgasm at the sound of my name on his lips.
Please, please, please don’t let this man see what he does to me.
“My behavior this morning was ungrateful and immature. You were kind enough to allow me into your home, and you took such excellent care of me. It’s indefensible that I repaid your kindness with selfish disrespect.
There’s no excuse for my behavior, and I will be forever grateful if you could forgive me.
If you do, I promise to always be honest and loyal to you in return. ”
Calm the fuuuuuuck down, heart!! He can see you attempting to Kool-Aid Man it through my chest cavity. Holy shit. Control your breathing. This is just a man. This is just a man.
Okay. That’s not working. Speech isn’t going to happen. What’s left? Non-verbal communication. Nod the head. The head nods slowly. Thank God the brain to neck muscle communication is still intact.
He smiles that face-consuming, dimple-producing, panty-drenching smile that only this man is capable of.
Were the dimples there before? Hell, I don’t know the difference between fiction and reality at this point.
Is he even here, or am I just experiencing the full gamut of visual, auditory, and tactile hallucinations manifested by a lack of sleep?
Pulling one hand from his, I reach up, poking one finger into a dimple.
I think it’s real. It feels real. His smile widens, and I didn’t think that was actually possible.
He has beautiful teeth. I’m not sure how much time passes in silence, but he eventually speaks, saying, “It’s late.
I’m not going to be the reason for you missing another night of sleep. ”
And then, since he apparently thinks I’m not sufficiently entranced by him, he entwines his fingers through the back of my hair and tilts my head so that he can place a soft kiss on my forehead. “Good night, Vaughn. Sweet dreams.”
Speech! Speech, Vaughn! Damn it. Talk!
“Dreams.” Fuck me sideways. Why did you even speak?
He rubs his thumb along the back of the hand that he still holds in his. Then, he stands and walks out the door. I’m still reeling from everything that just happened when I hear him call out to me from outside the door. “Lock the door, Vaughn.”
Vaulting off of the couch because, YES, SIR...I look through the peephole. He’s standing outside the door, looking out toward the parking lot. I keep my eye on the peephole while I engage the chain. Now, I wait to see what he will do. “Deadbolt too.”
I couldn’t fight off my smile with a crowbar at this point. Grinning like an idiot, I’m thankful no one can see me when I engage the deadbolt. As soon as it clicks into place, he walks down the stairs and out of sight without a backward glance.
It’s in this moment that I realize he never asked for my number.
He didn’t even ask to make plans with me.
Did I misread everything? He isn’t shy, and he definitely isn’t unsure of himself.
If he wanted to see me again, he would’ve asked for my number or asked me out.
Wow. I haven’t been this bummed in a long time.
When I woke up in that hospital and Chase was sitting there, I was furious.
I had genuinely cared for the guy, but the moment he proved who he really was, I despised him.
I wasn’t broken hearted or even sad. I was enraged by his deception.
The guy that I thought I was falling for didn’t exist. He was a figment of Chase’s imagination.
I couldn’t be broken hearted about losing something that never really existed.
So, why am I bumming so hard over this guy I just met?
Elijah insisted on putting the food away and cleaning the kitchen.
Thank goodness for that because I’m way too down in these dumps to do it now.
I brush my teeth, put on my prettiest pajamas, and climb into bed.
A pretty set of PJs always makes me feel better, but even that isn’t lifting my spirits as much as I had hoped.
My phone lights up when I plug it into the charger, and I see I have a text message.
The number isn’t saved in my contacts, and it was sent half an hour ago. That’s right after Elijah left.
(512)555-1661
How do you take your coffee?
It’s him. I know it the moment I read the text. How did he get my number? The Tweedle Twins. I love those twins so much. They’re kicking ass at this proxy thing. I decide to play it cool with my response.
Vaughn
Who is this?
(512)555-1661
You’re supposed to be asleep. I sent that half an hour ago. Go to sleep, V.
(512)555-1661
And you know damn well who this is. You don’t have permission to talk to anyone else. Don’t make me report you.
Damn it. He apologizes AND he’s funny. It’s a good thing there’s no one else in the race for my heart because this thing would be a blowout.
Vaughn
Iced Caramel Macchiato.
Elijah
Sweet dreams, V.
Vaughn
V? What happened to the rest of my name?
Elijah
You do have a kick ass name. V just feels a little more like you.
Vaughn
Good night, Eli.
Eli
Sleep tight, V.