Chapter Thirty-five
Elizabeth
“Shall we give over and drown? Have you a mind to sink?”
The Tempest
I sat at my desk in the TA’s office in the English department, listening to Carolyn and Sara discuss Gothic novels, like The Monk and The Italian.
I desperately wanted to eavesdrop, although I had nothing to add.
As thrilled as I’d been that Kate had granted me this little perk, I knew I didn’t belong, and though nobody had given me the stink eye or told me I was a fraud and a hack, editing because I couldn’t write, the impostor syndrome settled on me like a shroud of London fog in a penny dreadful.
To avoid the temptation to ask questions—or worse, try to sound informed—I shoved in a pair of ear buds and drowned the conversation out with the gentle pitter patter of a digital thunderstorm.
With a glance out the window at the darkening clouds, I could almost believe it was raining out. If Evan was right, snow would start to fall soon. Maybe we’d even get the full eight inches.
I snickered.
As far as gestures went, last night’s weather forecast proved Evan knew my sense of humor, and he was willing to embarrass himself to make me laugh.
I cherished how he kept up with my weirdness, and it reminded me how damn fun he was to talk to.
We made for good friends, and if he only ended up being someone I could exchange naughty texts with when Chelsea was unavailable, that would be a huge win for me.
But I wasn’t attracted to Chelsea. I didn’t crave her kisses or fantasize about her in the shower. And while I wanted her time and her love, I never felt jealous imagining her bestowing those three little words on Bas—some day. I didn’t hope she’d declare herself to me and me alone.
A week ago, I’d hoped that Evan and I would get to that place together—some day. Now? I wasn’t sure what Evan could do to prove I’d be safe giving him my heart—and body—again.
But for now, he’d earned back the title of friend. That was a place we could build from.
My phone chimed right as I’d settled into a groove, and I made the mistake of peeking. When I saw it was an email, not a text, from Evan, my curiosity won out. I slipped out an ear bud and heard Carolyn arguing, “But Ambrosio is both victim and perpetrator.”
Thankfully, I had no idea what that meant. I leaned back in my chair, feet pulled up cross-legged, and opened the email.
Elizabeth,
I’ve been thinking about our list, if you’re still willing to make one with me, and I’ve come up with the following suggestions.
I’m hoping you’ll add some of your own, so I kept it to a short ten, which I know you’ll tell me is an oxymoron.
Please reply within twenty-four hours with a yes or no on each of these.
I propose the following: we will have the month of December to complete as many as possible.
Each point earned will be paid out in the form of one full minute—which you can spend on a bookstore spree on Jan 1.
However many books you can grab in the time allotted will be yours, my treat.
You might be wondering what my reward will be. Simple: soaking in your joy.
1. Go to a writing group. (I know this was on the other list, but I noticed you haven’t done it. You have an invitation…)
2. Listen to an audiobook. (You always say you don’t have time to read for fun, but you spend so much time walking or on the bus. Perfect time to listen!)
3. Watch Shakespeare In Love.
4. Visit the Planet Word museum in D.C.
5. See a live production of Much Ado About Nothing. (I’ve already bought the tickets for the Shakespeare Theater on Dec 11. You can take whoever you like.)
6. Stay the night at the historic Berkeley Bed and Breakfast after the play. (Since you work at a B&B, I figured you might want to be spoiled for a change.)
7. Go to a wine tasting with your best friend. (I know you haven’t spent as much time with Chelsea as you’d like to lately.)
8. Research graduate programs to gather requirements for application.
9. Share your writing with someone you trust.
10. Kiss someone you like on New Year’s Eve. (Is this cheating?)
I’m impressed with how long your list with Chelsea was. This wasn’t easy at first, but then I thought about what I know of you, and suddenly I had to stop myself from adding more. We can fudge these as needed.
You have a week to add another ten.
Are you game?
Evan
I pressed my fists to my face to squelch an unprofessional squeal.
Even though it was just more words, he’d had to sit down and write down actions designed to build trust, spark romance, and lead to intimacy.
He’d heard me on Sunday. I’d stood up for myself, told him I needed action, and he’d delivered.
The list was subtly clever. The first suggestion, the writing group, would mean calling Aidan, and he knew that. What better way to prove he trusted me, and that he wasn’t the jealous monster who’d shown up last Saturday night?
Then he’d promised me a series of dates that effectively made him all mine every free moment in December. And what dates! Everything was curated to my interests. I couldn’t have planned better if I’d been given free rein.
Maybe he was love-bombing me, and I was too stupid to realize it, but as I read and reread the list, I marveled at how well he knew me after such a short time. And he still liked me.
Other than point number nine, there wasn’t a single thing I’d change. I could always send my writing to Chelsea, but I understood the assignment. Did I trust Evan? Would I let him into the most vulnerable parts of my heart?
Evan,
These are all a yes. Beware. I’ve already begun to compile the list of books you’ll be carrying for me on New Year’s Day. Promise me you’ll read some of them with me.
Elizabeth
Could I come up with another ten? Had he left me a minute free?