Chapter 9 #2
“I’m not that involved in everyone’s lives,” I snap, smacking him with the throw pillow.
Elliot catches one corner and tugs, dragging me closer. His eyes narrow in challenge. “That’s what I aim to find out.”
* * *
“Holly!” Elliot calls as I’m brushing my teeth. “Holly! Get out here.”
I scramble toward the living room, hastily wiping toothpaste from my chin. “What is it? What’s wrong? Whoa…”
I cast my gaze to the floor, but not before I caught an eyeful of Elliot in his boxers. “Put on some clothes.”
“I did,” he says, sounding annoyed. “I don’t usually sleep in underwear.”
Now I can’t help picturing how he normally sleeps… in nothing at all. I can’t say the mental image isn’t alluring. “W-w-what do you want?”
“What is this?”
Elliot’s standing next to his half-made sofa bed, his brows knitted into a perplexed V of disapproval. The lamplight glimmers off his bronze skin and the chiseled planes of his stomach, made all the more prominent by his low-slung green stripped boxers.
Help me.
It’s worse than I expected. Beneath his trench coat and hoodie, he’s beyond hot. He’s a Roman god, the Statue of David come to life.
“Holly!”
I shake my head. “Huh?”
Elliot gestures to his living room. “Look at this place!”
“Oh yes,” I blink. “I decorated a bit while you were in the shower. It didn’t take very long at all. I’m an efficient decorator.”
Elliot strides to the window where golden lights twinkle around a garland studded with pine cones and holly. I also trimmed the front door and the kitchen counter, but ran out of garland at his bookshelf.
He scrubs a hand over his face and shakes his head. “But how? Why?”
“I picked up a few things while I was packing,” I explain. “It’s really no trouble. I figure if I’m staying here, I might as well make it cozy and festive.”
I also pegged Elliot as the type not to have any holiday decorations up… and I was right.
Elliot glares at me like I’ve committed a grave offense. To look at him, one would think I’d just vandalized his apartment rather than spruce it up with winter garlands.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he says, “when I said ‘make yourself at home,’ I didn’t mean literally make yourself at home. What kind of person decorates…”
“I’m a Libra and I’m going through a lot of stress right now!”
Do I even have to mention the turds? The spring election?
“I need my environment to be beautiful and inviting so I can function. And I figure a few festive lights and pine cones won’t hurt anyone. Sheez! It’s just garland. If it’s not your style, I’ve got plenty more in my Christmas room.”
“No!” Elliot holds up his hand. “Don’t bring anything from your Christmas room over to my place. And another thing…” He stops mid-sentence and eyes the third shelf of his bookcase. “What is… Oh no.”
He picks up the housewarming gifts I left him. “A candle?” Stunned, he rotates the green jar. “Cedar and campfire?” he reads slowly.
I nod. “The scent is very ‘you’.”
“I don’t have a ‘me’ scent.” He picks up my next gift. “What’s this? A piece of crystal?!” He sounds as disgusted as if I’d left a turd on his shelf instead of a gemstone.
He rolls the stone around in his palm and wags his finger at me. “This is why Paige hates you!”
“Whaaat?” I step back, feeling like I’ve been slapped. “I was just trying to—”
“Stop trying,” he says, “You’re overstepping your boundaries.”
“Do you not like amber? It’s supposed to guard against negative feelings and promote,” I shrug, suddenly bashful, “safety. You make me feel safe so I figure amber and you go together as, you know…” I lace my fingers together to demonstrate my point, “cupcakes and frosting. Amber is a protective stone...”
Strange. The connection between Elliot and that tiny piece of amber made so much sense when I picked it out from my crystal inventory. Now, in the face of Elliot’s judgmental silence, I hear myself loud and clear. My explanation fizzles out. Tears sting my eyes. I sound dumb. Really freaking dumb.
Elliot takes a look at me and curses under his breath. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”
“Of course not,” I say, swiping at my eyes with the sleeve of my oversized sweatshirt.
“It’s just a silly gift… You know what,” I shake my head, “this is stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.
You’re not a crystal person. Here, let me…
” I reach out to take it back, but Elliot twists away from me.
“On second thought,” he says softly, “I think it’ll look great right…” he places it in front of the framed photo of his family. “Right here. Thank you, Holly… for the gift.”
I swallow the jagged lump in my throat. “You don’t need to keep it.”
“I want it,” he insists. “I love amber.”
“Don’t take it out of pity.” He’s such a bad liar. He can’t even look me in the eye. I stretch out my hand. “Give it here.”
“It’s starting to grow on me,” he says with a reassuring smile.
“Hm.” I narrow my eyes. “And the candle?”
Reluctantly, Elliot picks up the candle, turning it in his hand like an alien object. “I can’t say I’ve ever owned a scented candle… willingly,” he says, giving it a sniff, flinches.
He sniffs it again, nodding in grudging acceptance. “I guess these are the compromises one must make when one is in a fake relationship.” Elliot nestles the candle on the shelf. “That being said, I can’t wait to break up.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well… the feeling’s mutual. But you’ll still keep my gifts after we break-up, right?”
Elliot tilts his head, considering. “You sure you don’t want custody?”
I swat him on the arm with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Fake boyfriends don’t get a goodnight kiss. That would only open up a whole new can of worms.
“Goodnight, Elliot,” I say, trodding back to his bedroom, now my room.
“Goodnight, Holly.”