Chapter 10 #2
“You’re out of your mind, Maeve.” He sounded earnest, like there was no way in hell his ex-girlfriend might still have feelings for him—a wealthy, attractive, and at least decently mannered guy.
He narrowed his eyes, like he’d just had another thought.
Rare occurrence, I remembered. Smiled. “Are you . . . jealous?”
My smile fell. “Now you’re out of your mind,” I snapped, too fast. He noticed; of course he did. So, I had to double down, if only to successfully ignore the grin slowly growing on his face. “We’ve already established. Not every girl wants you. Some of them—”
“Just work with me, yes.” He nodded grandly, moved closer. None of our limbs were touching—yet. “I don’t remember your name on that list, though.”
“Bad memory?”
“Quite the opposite.” My entire body relaxed when he leaned back into the cushions. His gaze no longer bore into mine, and I wasn’t two seconds of eye contact away from a realization I’d rather not have.
I stirred the conversation back into safe territory. Safer, at least. “Why did you get into trouble, then?”
A side-glance, but no further comment on the drastic change of subject.
“Fucking Allegra keeps talking me into bad ideas.” Allowing him to finish his sentence from earlier showed that the entire embarrassing tangent we’d just gone on was totally unnecessary.
“It’s not her fault. I didn’t mean it like that.
Just—” Another groan before his arms crossed.
I had no issue poking in order to get the confirmation I needed. “So, the problem is that you went out? To Avenue?”
“The problem is the paparazzi caught me going out. Hunter only cares when someone notices. Or, well, when investors notice.” He shook his head. “I still don’t get it—employed people go out during the week, right? Isn’t that the entire concept of happy hour drinks?”
“Can’t imagine he’s thrilled about us taking over Daphne’s and Ryan’s looks?” I guessed. Correctly, if the way he rolled his eyes was anything to go by.
“Probably just that I went over his head with it. He likes challenging me. He doesn’t like when good ideas aren’t his, though.
” Elliot shrugged, looking back at me. My body was immediately on the grid again.
There was nothing subtle about it now, nothing to help me explain away the look on his face.
I snorted, then looked around the living room to avoid his eye contact.
The empty vase on the coffee table in front of us, TV against the opposite wall, right next to the fire escape window.
As with any wall that belonged to Ashwood, framed prints of designs, sketches, and red carpet looks hung above a sideboard.
A shoebox to him. A castle to me.
“You still think it was a good idea, then? Daphne and Ryan?” I loved that we got to do it, but I did wonder whether we were equipped for a task of that size. Whether it was too much pressure and responsibility, especially with so many things that could go wrong.
I’d never been pessimistic, but . . .
“Think about it, Maeve.” Elliot sighed, like he was tired of explaining it.
As if he’d had this conversation a million times already.
“This is the exact thing we’re expected to do after our internship ends.
” I didn’t remind him that only one of us would get to do it.
“They can see what we’re capable of. You can see if this is really what you want—”
“It is.”
His hands raised at the snap in my tone. I didn’t expect it either, to be honest. “Alright,” he said, calmly. “It is. But I’m just saying—”
“You’re saying you hope I realize I actually hate the job I’ve been dreaming about for over a decade and quit before the program is over. So that you—” don’t lose your inheritance, I almost said. I barely managed to stop myself. “Get the job.”
“Well, it would certainly make things easier.”
I grimaced, head shaking, still looking around the room.
“Hey.” His shoulder bumped mine, and the tight frown on his face loosened. “I shouldn’t have made a decision like that by myself. I’m sorry. It just kind of happened, though.”
I wished he hadn’t said that. The apology sounded almost sincere, but I couldn’t take it seriously when stupid decisions made without consulting Maeve could be his job description. Like he’d been hired specifically to torment me.
“Just like you should’ve talked to me about the sustainability thing.”
Elliot nodded, and maybe alcohol made him more agreeable.
For the last time tonight, his eyes fell down my body with a sigh.
“Fuck—what time is it? You were asleep, weren’t you?
” He muttered some sort of justification: “I wouldn’t have come here this late, but I didn’t want to give him another second of my time.
And because you were supposed to live with another intern anyway, he sent me here. ”
I decided to let it go. For now. “Yeah, I was asleep.” As if on cue, a yawn rattled through my throat. “For at least two hours.”
“Of course you go to bed at ten.” He might’ve been rolling his eyes, but I didn’t check to confirm.
Instead, I got up, stretched, and muttered, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Everything about you is perfect, Maeve. Down to your goddamn bedtime.”
It didn’t sound like a compliment at all. “You don’t seem pleased about that.”
Elliot gnawed on his bottom lip, looked up at me from the couch, bags ringing his eyes. “Not in the slightest.”
The world around us continued spinning, but this exact moment felt like an eternity.
Like I was supposed to notice the way his lashes batted against his cheeks, and that his eyes stayed closed for a second too long.
He seemed comically large on the small couch; he’d barely fit if he tried to curl up on top of it to sleep, which he seemed to at least consider.
The thought must’ve hit us at the same time. After a second, he said, “A good roommate would’ve offered me a tour by now, though.”
My mouth quirked. “A perfect roommate might.”
And so I did.
From the elongated kitchen with its wooden floors, white cabinets, and Midtown views, over to the too-small bathroom with a shower I’d been lucky to still fit in, all the way to my bedroom, where he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Perfect, of course.” I showed him where I hung my coats, how I left my shoes by the door, and then led him to the room on the other end of the corridor: his.
But up until an hour ago, there’d been no roommate in my foreseeable future, and I’d used the spare space differently. “A fair word of warning—” But he barged through the door without waiting for an explanation.
And walked straight into my personal closet. Three outfits laid out on his bed, including jewelry, hair accessories, and underwear.
A tailored button-up and miniskirt combo. Dark pants and a vest. High-waisted flared jeans with a beige open-knit sweater. And, unfortunately, matching lace underwear on top of each.
Elliot took a single step inside before he came to an abrupt halt again. For several seconds, the only sound came from the corner store somewhere below us and the fighting couple on our floor. Jackie must’ve been winning—her boyfriend was being suspiciously quiet tonight.