Chapter 9 #2
Every time I glance in his direction, he’s looking at me. Smiling. One time he winks. Was that part of the flirting? Or was it one of those covert spy things? Letting me know he’s got this.
We head outside. There’s mist hovering over the courts. Archer tries to bat it away with his racket. Someone laughs. I turn to find Elias standing right there beside me. My skin prickles. It’s not an unpleasant sensation.
“Ready, partner?”
“Yup.”
After our warmup and a few practice shots, Coach teams us up with Archer and Nate in preparation for the next match.
“This is our perfect opportunity to sell it,” Elias says.
Before I can ask any further questions, Nate’s getting ready to serve and Elias is already in position on our side of the court.
I quickly realize that Elias is good at this deception stuff.
He’s putting on a show, but not overselling it.
Whenever we lose a point, he’s tactile with me in a subtly comforting way.
He rubs my arm. He pats my back. Tiny gestures most wouldn’t notice unless they were paying attention.
He’s touching me the way a doubles partner would, but also going out of his way, like he just can’t keep his hands off me.
It’s intoxicating. And I have to remind myself that it’s fake.
When we win a point, he ruffles my hair.
He flashes me intimate smiles and maintains eye contact just a second too long.
I take note of all these flirting techniques for future reference.
This guy’s a genius. Being a hot, tall, German guy with natural magnetism and sex appeal can’t hurt either, I suppose.
After we win the first game, Elias puts his hand on my back as we walk to the baseline. When he leans his head close to mine I catch a whiff of his shampoo and body spray. It’s clean and fresh and powerfully masculine.
“Pretend I just said something really funny,” he says.
It takes me a moment to catch on before I laugh.
Elias pats me on the back. “Good job.”
I think we smashed the ‘flirting’ thing, but when Nate shows no signs of noticing, my heart sinks. Was it all for nothing?
When we head into the locker room, I feel Elias’ eyes on me as I change and turn around to catch him checking me out. I try to give him some sort of signal to cut it out.
Abort mission. Nate isn’t paying attention.
Also, I don’t think I’ll be able to take my shirt off with his eyes on me like that.
But then I catch Nate looking at us. His gaze flitting suspiciously from me to Elias and back again.
Is it working?
Elias pumps his eyebrows and I fail to hold in a snort.
“Everything okay?” Nate asks.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, fine.”
I drive back to the frat house in my own car while Nate takes his. As soon as we get home, I slink off to my room to work on the financial reports for the next executive meeting. I’m lost in the numbers when someone knocks on my door.
Nate comes in and closes the door behind himself.
“Hey, can you talk?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
He rubs the back of his neck. Is he nervous?
“Is there something going on between you and Elias?”
Oh gosh, okay, here we go. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that he was being pretty touchy feely with you in practice today, and I caught him checking you out in the locker room.”
I scoff. “Come on, Nate, be real.”
“What?”
“Elias is …” I wave my hand in the air, suddenly depressed by the memory of all the fakeness. If I hadn’t asked him to, he wouldn’t have flirted with me. But Nate believed it, didn’t he?
“Elias is what?”
“You know … hot.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “So, you do like him? Ben, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t …” I start spluttering. I don’t even have to lie, I could just give him this one truth—sure, I think Elias is hot. Anyone with eyeballs would agree. But I can’t get the words out.
“What about Tom?”
“Tom’s fine.”
How many times have I said that now?
Nate finally gets the message. “You don’t like Tom.”
I bite my lip. “He reminds me of my dad.”
“Gah, Ben. I’m so sorry.”
I laugh and Nate softens. The relief that washes over me is immense. I hate being this way with Nate. I should just tell him the truth. Or at least part of it. Nate, I don’t want you to keep trying to set me up. Elias was just flirting with me because I asked him to.
But if he knew that, would he give up? Or would he pivot and try even harder to find me a date?
“Elias, huh? Is that why you invited him to the party?”
“Um … partly? I do really think he needs to get to know everyone better.”
Nate rubs his chin. “I agree.” His eyes dart all over my room, as if afraid to land on me.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just … is Elias really a good fit for your first time?”
My face gets hot.
“It’s just … at least Tom was more your style. Obviously, if he reminds you of your dad, that’s not going to work, but we could find you someone else, someone more … suitable, someone who—”
That bubble of anxiety floats to the surface again. I interrupt him.
“I like Elias.”
He stops talking, blinks hard before nodding. “Okay, you like Elias.”
“I’m sorry, Nate. I appreciate you trying to find me someone, but I’m okay. You don’t have to do that anymore.”
He nods. Did I hurt him? Should I just tell him the truth? I play with how that might go. How it might sound in his head, even if I try to sugarcoat it.
You’re annoying me, stop it. I don’t like the people you try to set me up with. I don’t want to date anyone you introduce me to because it depresses me when all this time I’ve wanted to date you.
Definitely not.
“Elias it is then,” Nate says, slapping his thighs before he stands up. “What costumes are you guys going to wear? Is Elias into Star Wars?”
Shoot, I wonder if Elias will be up for dressing like Yoda?