Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth
“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.”
Romeo and Juliet
I made it home. You don’t have to send out an APB.
Evan kept his word, texting back, an avocado peanut butter?
I smiled, loving how he played along with my brand of weird. anxious pretty boy.
In my defense, I’d dipped into a bottle of wine.
It wasn’t even midnight, and I was rattled by that kiss.
I’d wanted to stop at Chelsea’s to unpack it all with her, but to my absolute shock, Basil’s car was still parked on the road, and the lights were out inside.
I wasn’t sure whether to root for my friend or pity poor Bas.
She’d eat him alive. Still, I couldn’t remember a time when she’d given a guy her address, let alone invited him home. Now he’d know where to find her.
Meanwhile, I’d been shot down from a simple kiss.
But that kiss…
I must have short-circuited his wires temporarily, and that made me feel eleven kinds of gross. As soon as his brain caught up, he’d shut me out.
I had second-hand embarrassment re-reading my last text, such a failed attempt to flirt. If he’d left me on read again, I might have had to move to Canada rather than show up at work Monday, but Evan volleyed right back.
Evan: the anxious part’s right
Me: you’re being humble about the pretty
Evan: shucks
Hanging out with him, acting dorky, I’d seen beyond all that pretty. In the parked car, barely lit by weak streetlights, I couldn’t even see his face. That magnetic draw, the desire to kiss him, went way beyond the superficial.
Me: you’re like a transformer
Evan: the shape-shifting alien robots? how did you guess?
Me: wait, are you? god that would explain so much.
Evan: you think I’m a machine?
Me: I think you’re more than meets the eye.
Evan: that…
Me: oh no
Evan: no, I’m just laughing. I thought you’d hit rock bottom with the iceburg joke.
Me: my joke was hall of fame.
Evan: for worst jokes?
Our text banter went off-and-on throughout the weekend, light and breezy. No mention of that kiss. Nothing about what it might have meant, and that was more proof this was a one-way infatuation.
Since I’d worked at the inn all day Sunday, I didn’t get a chance to catch up with Chelsea until Monday morning, when I stopped at the coffee shop on my way to the library. Yawning, I considered ways to get a break from the grind. “We should move our vacation up, like to next week,” I suggested.
“What’s up with you?” she asked, pouring milk into a metal pitcher. “You’ve been a zombie lately.”
“Just tired. I’d love to disappear and sleep for a month.” I felt like I was attempting to juggle neurons to keep my brain firing twenty-four hours a day.
“Have you considered witness protection.”
“More like a medically induced coma?” I considered other ways to escape responsibility for a month. “I could strategically get hit by a bus.”
Her brow furrowed. “Maybe you should consider telling Kate you need some time off.”
My heart squeezed at the suggestion. Why couldn’t I give up the job that wasn’t paying my bills? Why was I holding on so tight to a career that would never materialize? Maybe it was time to grow up and stop dreaming of a fairytale ending.
“Bas is coming over tonight to watch Evan’s first weather report,” Chelsea said, moving like a whirlwind. The buzz of customers acted like white noise, lulling me to sleep.
“What?” Again?
“Yeah.” She stared at me, waiting for me to tease her for crumbling before the battering ram that was Bas, but I loved this for her.
I leaned against the counter. “So what’s going on with you two?”
She shot me a look. “You remember how you put invite a neighbor over on the checklist?”
I chortled. I never thought she’d actually do that.
I didn’t think she could name a single person who lived on our street, and watching the news together was the flimsiest of pretexts.
“Bas isn’t exactly a neighbor,” I said, but we’d fudged things on the list to be in the spirit, if not the letter, of the intent. “But I’ll allow it. Is he cooking?”
“No, I am.” Her eyes widened comically, and I coughed a laugh.
“Lord, save him.”
Once she handed me my latte, I hopped on the free trolley to the university, pulling out a paperback for the short ride.
I could have just stayed home, curled up in my pajamas in bed and worked there, but with the temperatures dropping and the fall leaves changing colors, I had such a strong urge to be among the students with their backpacks slung over one shoulder, hurrying to class.
By the library, I breathed in the air of scholarly knowledge, and a memory of Evan hit me sideways, picturing him standing not so far from here, with the same look of reverence and nostalgia I felt every time I stepped foot on university grounds.
I should have invited him to join me. Would he have come?
Deep in the stacks, I found a quiet area and began the last few pages of “Diderot’s Dream: He Said/She Said,” an incomprehensible wall of text about the fuzzy nature of discourse vis-a-vis reality.
The last eight hundred words had taken longer to edit than I’d anticipated, but I’d managed to wrangle some order to it and made it flow more logically.
A quote attributed to Diderot read, “Mind what you do; if you deceive me once I shall never believe you again,” and the low-hum of regret twisted in my gut, leaving me sad that one lie had done so much damage.
Why had Chelsea dared me to lie to someone who’d interested me on all levels: mind, spirit, and body? The one guy who’d put himself out of reach, using the job as an excuse to rebuff me. What if he was the one, and I’d blown it with tricks and bad timing?
Becoming friends somehow only made things worse. Not because my crush was unrequited—not only that. But because the more I knew of him, the more I liked him. And I couldn’t stop imagining what might have been.
When I finally rolled into the newsroom around two, I’d worked myself into a state of anxiety about seeing him again. How was I going to pretend he didn’t affect me?
Gigi turned a dramatic chipmunk expression at me when I hung my messenger bag over the back of a chair. She scurried over. “Keep your head low, today.”
I’d already planned on it. “Why?”
“Tom was let go.”
“Tom?” Oh, God. “What happened?”
She shook her head, glancing surreptitiously toward the control room. “I’ll tell you later.”
Lauren entered with a thunderous expression. “It’s going to be all hands on deck today.” When was it not? “Can you handle building the rundown without help? You should know how to do it by now.” Her exhaled sigh held the weight of disappointment before I’d even failed her.
I flinched at the embedded insult. I’d only been here a week, and yet she expected me to be an expert without any proper training. “Of course.”
“Great. I’ve got to deal with a staffing crisis.” With that, she stormed off.
As soon as she was out of view, Gigi whispered, “I think he was high on the job Friday night.”
“Who? Tom?” Oh. That was a bit of a relief. If they were firing people for no reason, I might have been more concerned. Still, the stress of this job kept ratcheting up.
What if Lauren made me take over the broadcast?
I swallowed a lump of fear, then remembered Evan’s promise to give me advice.
After drafting an initial rundown, I snuck over to the other side of the building and peeked into the weather office, but it appeared to be empty.
I crossed the threshold, anxiously. This was the first time I’d been in Evan’s space since we’d shared a dark car on a rainy night.
“Hello?” I called.
I ventured farther in, staring at the monitors on the wall, awed by thermonuclear war games on screen. How could anyone understand any of that?
“Elizabeth?” Evan came in holding a stack of paper, wearing those nerd glasses and a blue pinstripe shirt.
As he approached, his aftershave and body musk hit me like a typhoon.
Maybe I’d miscalculated by avoiding him last Thursday.
If I’d glimpsed him working in his office, all scientist hot, I would’ve been prepared for how downright sexy he looked in that powder blue button-up.
I might’ve been inoculated against his green eyes and pouty lips. “What do you need?”
Was he unhappy to see me? Or were we just awkward now?
“Nothing, just—” I started to turn back.
A reddish flush on his neck reminded me of how tentative he’d been Saturday night, when I’d won a kiss from him with one bold move.
What if he sat on a razor’s edge, fighting a desire his body wanted but his mind refused.
It was confusing the way his pupils dilated, all while he shot me down with words.
I wanted to flee. I wanted to unbutton his pants and slide my hand inside the boxer briefs which I knew he wore—from experience.
My knees threatened to betray me. “They fired Tom.” I swallowed, mouth dry as cotton. “It’s a madhouse today.”
He laid the papers on a desk and exhaled sharp. “Yeah, I was planning on holing up in here to avoid the drama.”
I blinked, too anxious to parse a double meaning in that. “I’m terrified Lauren will make me step in for her today. I’m not ready.”
“You probably are, but try to focus only on the people in the studio. It’s a job like any other. You just have to forget anyone else is watching.”
“And then picture everyone naked.”
“What?” He coughed a laugh. “I mean. I don’t know how that would help.”
“Well, maybe not everyone. Not Kent.” I imagined Evan with nothing on, and my cheeks heated. “Okay, you’re right. Nobody in the nude.”
“Maybe not in the studio at least.” Was that a hint of flirtation? Surely not. Not after his whole declaration on Saturday.
Movement on one of the screens overhead caught my eye, and I seized on a change of topic. “How on earth can you read anything on here? It looks like an invasion of blue raspberry jello.”
He snorted but stepped closer. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Yes.” I chewed my lower lip, silently begging him to touch me.
He laid a hand on my shoulder and turned me toward the map.
Standing just behind me, with his body aligned with mine, he pointed at the monitor.
“See this cold front?” As his right hand traveled across the graphic, his left drifted along the bare skin of my arm.
“It’s sliding up under the warm air mass. ”
Okay, surely we were no longer talking about the weather. Nothing on the map matched what he was describing.
“What happens when two bodies collide?” My voice came out a quiet rasp. He was so close, I could have leaned back and pressed against him.
With a breath that tickled my neck, he whispered, “Severe turbulence.”
My own breath became shallow. I wanted to turn around and face him, but maybe this was the only way he’d confess his attraction to me. “What’s your prediction?”
His chin brushed my ear as he touched the screen, hovering over the mountain range to our west, and his electricity sparked across my skin. “It’s sometimes difficult for a low pressure system to surmount so many obstacles.”
I twisted around and licked my lips. He took off his glasses, and his green eyes pinned me in place. My heart rate quickened. I chanced a little more open flirtation. “How likely are they to come together?”
I prayed this had all been innuendo.
Like he heard my plea, he bent his head, his mouth inches from mine, and whispered. “Under the right conditions, one hundred percent chance.”
That wicked smile I loved so much twisted the corner of his lip. I played back the question I’d asked, and God. My face had to be beet red from my own cringe-worthiness. I’d never been this brazen with anyone, even if it was only code.
I locked onto his gaze. “So what’s keeping them apart?”
The edge of the desk pressed against my thighs as I leaned back, knees parted. He stepped into the breach, so close, rocking into me, letting me feel his own arousal. “Nothing but air.”
Was that me swooning?
“Evan? Elizabeth?”
We both swiveled to find Lauren, standing in the doorway, looking from me sitting on the desk directly below the monitor, in a most unladylike position, back to Evan groin to groin with her associate producer. Without another word, she turned and walked out.
“Oh, fuck.” Evan backed away with a wince and took off after Lauren.
What an ignominious end to my career.