Chapter 3 #3
“So, yeah, isn’t it a shame Eli couldn’t join us,” Sadie observes as she takes another drink. Leo and Dean both give her a funny look, which I can’t decipher, but I don't try.
“Well, we’ve shown him what he’s missing,” Leo replies, shaking his smart phone which is still open on Instagram and winking at her. I look down at my fingers, willing myself with all my might not to blush or do anything else to give myself away.
I have such a crush on Eli Gastright.
There, I admitted it.
It’s completely ridiculous and laughable. He's so far out of my league it’s not even funny. As if a man as ludicrously hot as that would ever look at a plain Jane like me.
But there’s no harm in looking at him and wishing, I tell myself every morning, and, after the past few years I’ve had, it’s nice - and a real surprise - to have a quiet, harmless crush on someone, safe in the knowledge that it can never go anywhere.
Kind of like having a book boyfriend, but he’s a walking, talking feature of your daily life that you can sigh over as you watch him in action.
"He should have come," Sadie says, with a definite tone, into her beer. Maybe he doesn't often join them?
“Mmmm,” Leo agrees. “I did try, but you know our Eli. Wanted to get some stuff finished up.” He gives a wry smile and stretches his jaw slightly as if to say, “meh, what are you gonna do”.
Dean shakes his head and signs. I know enough to know he’s said “works a lot” or “works too much”, and, I think, “idiot”.
I thought Leo was ridiculously handsome when I met him, and he is, but Eli seems to have been created to my own exact specifications of Dream Guy.
That, long, almost black hair paired with those amazing, Mediterranean blue eyes and perfect olive skin.
That wide, beautiful mouth, and that deep Cajun rumble that comes from it, the hints of the gorgeous accent never failing to send shivers of lust down my spine.
I swear, I nearly lost myself entirely and collapsed in a swoon when I actually heard him say New Orleans' motto, “laissez les bon temps rouler”, this morning to Leo. Especially when it was paired with the rare grin that splits his face in two and crinkles his eyes with laughter lines. And I never realised how much I like tattoos on a man until I saw Eli’s arms, which are muscular and covered with intricate repetitive geometric designs, chevrons and zig zags and cross hatches and infinite detail.
Even better, I saw the most amazing and lifelike skull design on his rock hard abs when his t-shirt lifted a little as he reached to the top of the cupboards for the new coffee drum for me in the kitchen earlier this week.
Managed to be cool, but did have to surreptitiously run my fingers along the corners of my mouth in case I was drooling.
He’s a quiet one, that’s for sure. Leo and Dean are both gregarious people in their different ways, and there’s often a lot of laughter between them and their clients in their studios.
Eli, on the other hand, gets the job done, no small talk, very little chit chat, just him and his laser focus.
But it doesn’t affect his popularity; I have to tell people who call asking for an appointment with him that there’s a ten week waiting list.
Thanks to that tall, broad shouldered, mostly silent, inked up American, my battery operated boyfriend has been doing some serious overtime, and I need to remember to pick up some more batteries the next time I go grocery shopping or I’m screwed. Or, you know, not, as the case may be.
I shiver a little, even though there’s not much of a breeze, as I imagine Eli running his tongue down my stomach on his way further down, to give me what is of course going to be the best head of my life…
“Anyway,” Leo says, and I jump slightly, racing my mind back to the here and now and hoping no-one picked up on where my dirty mind was headed, “what made you move to Foxton?” They all look at me.
My throat goes dry. “Ah...well, it was just time for a change,” I say, trying to sound breezy, as though I’m the sort of cool person who will completely uproot her life and relocate on a whim; however, I also don’t want to sound unreliable to my employer, so I hastily add, “and I visited here a few months ago, just for a long weekend because it was off season and I could afford those sorts of prices, and I fell in love with the place. There’s such a.
..I don’t know, a vibe here. Like everyone’s so inclusive, and life is about fun. I wanted that.”
Dean signs something, and I catch the word ‘family’.
“Your family must miss you,” Leo translates.
I take a steadying sip of my drink. “Nope. My parents died when I was six, and my grandmother...she died about seven years ago.” It’s true.
I’m alone in the world. The thought eats me up at night when I’m trying to get to sleep: there’s no-one who loves me, no-one to care if I’m ill or hurt, no-one to mind if I’m in trouble.
I sometimes wonder if that’s part of the reason I stayed with Gav for so long: to have someone…
“I’m so sorry,” Sadie says softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. Leo and Dean’s eyes look sympathetic, too.
I shrug. “It’s OK,” I say with a smile, but I have to grit my teeth against the threat of some surprise tears. It’s been so long since anyone sympathised with me that I don’t really know what to do with myself.
Dean signs again, and I catch “who” and “all of us”.
“Who’s your favourite out of all of us,” Sadie asks with a grin, letting go of my hand.
“Sadie,” I say without skipping a beat, and Dean laughs, not making a sound.
His head goes back, and his scar - a knotted, torn looking mass at his throat - is more visible.
I try not to think about it, and I never ask him or anyone about that night, but the idea of someone shooting such a great person makes me want to break something.
“Hey,” Leo says in mock affront, “what about all the times I showed you how to order stock and make appointments? Did they mean nothing to you?”
I shrug. “I’d just rather raid Sadie’s wardrobe than yours,” I say flippantly, and she fist bumps me.
Leo looks down at his t-shirt, a plain olive green that, while simple, really works with his golden skin tone. “I think you’d look cute in this,” he asserts. Then, to my amused shock, he whips it off, leaving him bare chested in the middle of the beer garden, and throws it to me. “Here, try it on.”
“Oh my god,” Sadie drawls with an eye roll, “any excuse.” Leo chuckles, and I gape at him a little.
Dude is ripped, and covered in amazing ink, two full sleeves that must have taken hours, flashes of script here and there, and even a few mandalas I immediately recognise as Sadie’s work.
The women in the rest of the beer garden are staring in ill concealed lust, and I can’t blame them.
But hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, I guess, and Leo is many things, but he’s definitely not a shy guy.
“She doesn’t want to wear your sweaty, smelly boy shirt,” Sadie laughs.
I look down at it, and then sling it on over my loose fitting blouse. I want to join in with the spirit of things. I want them to like me. I want to be one of them. “Ta-dahhhh,” I sing, holding my arms out, and get treated to laughter, a little applause, and a whistle from Leo.
“Save my seat,” Sadie says suddenly, standing.
“I will personally rugby tackle anyone who tries to snag it,” Leo assures her as he finishes his pint.
“Now, that, I’d pay to see,” she replies without looking as she walks through the door to the bar. Leo turns his head and watches her go before turning back to me.
“That’s a nice colour on you,” he says.
I chuckle a little. “Thanks.”
“So, are you happy with how everything’s going? The job, I mean?” he asks me seriously, and Dean looks up, too.
And this is why I love working with them. They all treat me so well, and care that I’m OK.
“Absolutely,” I say sincerely.
“Is there anything we can do to make life easier for you, or anything you think we can do better?” he asks.
I think hard. “Not really. Everything’s been remarkably straightforward. Your systems were all there, you just needed someone to run them.”
He nods. “Well, yeah. Someone consistent and reliable, who wouldn’t dribble on us or throw tantrums...”
Dean snorts silently, eloquently for someone with no voice. Leo smirks at him, and I giggle.
“I keep hearing about these receptionists, and it sounds like there’s a great story - ”
“Look who I found!” Sadie exclaims brightly as she wanders back to the table, eyes sparkling a little.
And behind her, holding a dark looking pint, is Eli. My stomach plummets. He blinks as he looks at Leo, half naked, and me wearing Leo’s shirt. I hastily take it off and hand it back. Shit. Shit. Why did I have to be sat here looking like a wally when he walked in? Why??
“Buddy,” Leo says brightly as he puts his t-shirt back on, and there’s a gleam in his eye that I don’t understand. “You made it!” He seems to be highly amused about something.
Sadie quickly sits at the end of the table. This leaves her old seat next to me as Eli’s only option.
“Yeah, thought I’d drop by. There’s nothin' that couldn’t wait,” Eli murmurs as he sits down, and my heart rate picks up.
I’m frozen in my seat. God damn, he smells so good, like wood and rosemary.
Whatever his aftershave is, I want to soak my pillow in it and let it send my dreams to a sexy place where clothes are optional.
“We were just talking about which of us is Em’s favourite,” Leo says, looking mischievous. Eli puts his pint glass down slightly hard on the table.
“And I won,” Sadie crows, sticking her tongue out sweetly.
Eli smiles slightly. “Good choice,” he says quietly without looking at me, taking a large swallow of his pint. I chuckle nervously, casting around for something to say.