There’s an awkward silence as the memory of our previous conversation about the bookstore doing better — and why — hovers dangerously above our heads before disappearing again.
“Oh. Right. That’s a shame,” Elliot says, taking a sip of his drink and wincing slightly as the sugar hits his taste buds. “Not that the store’s doing well, obviously,” he adds hurriedly. “That’s amazing. Seriously. It’s just … I thought you might be working on that novel you always wanted to write. Or something else, maybe?”
“Nope,” I reply briskly, turning away and pretending to tidy the already-immaculate desk. “I still have the same problem with that. No stories, remember? Nothing to tell. Although, I guess I could just do what you did, and make something up?”
Elliot shuffles his feet awkwardly, and I briefly consider throwing myself face-first into my coffee: I suspect the scalding heat of it would be marginally less painful than the look on his face right now.
Why did I say that? Why couldn’t I just let it go for once?
“Look,” he begins, “About that. I didn’t know it would affect you so much; what I wrote. I didn’t know it would make you a … what was it you called it? A ‘laughingstock’? It didn’t cross my mind that it might embarrass you. I didn’t even think anyone would read it, if I’m honest. I definitely didn’t imagine all of this.”
He pulls at the collar of his shirt as if it’s in danger of strangling him. He’s not sounding nearly as self-confident now that it’s just me and him. It makes me like him more.
“No. No, I don’t suppose you did,” I reply, softening. “It’s… quite something.”
“I suppose that’s one way of describing it.”
He gives a wrychuckle that takes him another step closer to the Elliot I remember.
“That plastic globe thing outside,” he says. “I wasnotexpecting that. And I went by the Rose Tavern, but it’s been re-named, apparently? Now it’s—”
“The Globe,” I confirm, cringing inwardly. “There are a lot of things around here named after snow globes now. I’m amazed they didn’t just rename the town Hollybrooke and be done with it. Nice name, by the way.”
I’m being sarcastic, which is something the old Elliot would’ve known right away. This one, however, just grins, as if it’s a joke we’re both in on.
“I know; it’s cheesy as all get-out. But I have a soft spot for the name Holly, for some reason. I really wanted to use it.”
He smiles again, and it somehow manages to reverse time, and send him spiraling back an entire decade until he’s back to being the aspiring writer in the big scarf, who told me he’d never forget me.
“You didn’t say that earlier, though?” I reply evenly. “When Levi asked you if anyone inspired you to write the book? You just said it was about your great-grandfather. You didn’t mention me at all.”
I try my best not to sound too needy — or just plain whiny — as I say it, but the look of surprise on Elliot’s face suggests I haven’t succeeded.
“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he replies, making it sound like a question. “When I saw you earlier, you seemed so angry about it; about the book, and the attention you’d got from it. I didn’t want to make things worse for you by admitting Evie was based on you — especially not in front of the press that were there. Not to mentionMaisie Poole, who made me sign five copies for her. Hey, is it just me, or has she not changedat all?”
He blinks rapidly, and I have to bite my tongue not to laugh at the comical expression on his face.
“Rumor has it she has a portrait in the attic,” I say, deadpan. “Either that or she’s a vampire. It’s definitely one of the two. Possibly both, knowing Maisie. She’s nothing if not thorough.”
This time his smile is one of relief tempered with caution.
“And you?” he asks softly. “What’s your secret? Because you look exactly the same, Holly.Exactly. I felt like I’d gone back in time when I bumped into you the other day. It was … yeah.”
I really want to know what ‘it’ was — ‘yeah’ doesn’t really give me much to go on here — but I’m too thrown by the unexpected compliment to ask.
“Oh, I’m definitely a vampire,” I reply seriously. “I survive on the blood of the people who’ve crossed me.”
“That would’ve made one hell of a plot twist,” he says, chuckling. “Shoulda used that one for sure. Unless I’m one of the people who’ve crossed you, obviously. Which I kind of think I am, given your reaction to me not mentioning you earlier. Either that or this coffee’s much worse than I thought, andthat’swhy you’re annoyed with me?”
He takes another sip and pulls a face.
“Oh, the coffee’s terrible,” I assure him. “And you’re nottotallywrong about me not wanting to be outed as Evie Snow, either. I don’t… I don’t really know why I was annoyed out there when you didn’t mention me. I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted that. I’ve never wanted to be connected to the book.”
“Hasit really been that bad for you?” Elliot asks. “Being Evie? I’m sorry, Holly. That’s not what I wanted. Really, it’s not. I didn’t think for a second that the book would make life difficult for you.”
“But … she’s soawful,” I say, before I can stop myself. “I don’t even know why he falls for her; she’s just…urgh.”
I almost knock my drink over as I wave my hands expansively to emphasize my point. Whatever my point’s supposed to be.
