“Nope,” he said easily. “I don’t feel anything for her. I never said I did. In fact, I seem to remember putting myself out there to someone else and getting rejected.”
The playful expression on his face was almost enough to dissolve some of my nerves.
“Arnie and I make a good team. As demonstrated today.”
“And you’re going to stick together?” Eli asked. I didn’t like the knowing air in his voice. Like he was aware of something I wasn’t.
“Yep,” I insisted.
We stood there in silence for a few beats following my clipped response. If he thought I was going to continue to entertain this conversation, he was dreaming. I had made my stance more than clear.
Eli stared at me. Lines formed between his brows as his face became more and more thoughtful. He folded his armsacross his chest and I tried to ignore the way his t-shirt strained against his biceps.
“You’re really uncomfortable here, aren’t you?” he finally asked.
I wanted to laugh. “I thought I made that pretty obvious by running out of the lounge on the first day.”
“I thought it was just the show getting to you. But it’s everything isn’t it? Being stuck with strangers, trying to get to know someone. Even if we weren’t being constantly tailed by cameras, you would still want out.”
My gaze fell to the counter as I fiddled with my hands. “So? Is it so hard to believe that I’d be uncomfortable in a setting like that?” I didn’t like how he made it seem like I was weird or something for preferring to be alone.
“Hey.” Eli reached across the counter and brushed my arm. I ignored my instinct to pull away. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to understand you, is all. It’s not like this is comfortable for me either. Maybe I’m better at hiding it, but opening up, trying to find a connection...This is all strange for me too. Why do you think I gravitate toward you so much? In a setting like this, where everything is foreign and awkward, you’re the only person who makes it feel less difficult.”
A tingly sensation fluttered through my chest as I finally met his eyes again. I found nothing but sincerity in them.
“You know, I wasn’t always like this,” I said.
He tilted his head, waiting for me to continue.
I gestured to myself. “I wasn’t always this awkward shell of a human. I mean, it’s not like I was ever going to win a social butterfly pageant, but I was at least capable of basic human interaction.” I sighed, debating how much of myself to show. But I felt calmer now in the quiet, without a microphone pressed against my chest and a camera bearing down on mefrom above. “When Michael—when it all happened, no one knew how to talk to me. My best friends from before had grief of their own. We had been together since we were eighteen. Everything was ours and nothing was mine.” I blinked a few times. “I never meant to get so withdrawn.”
“When did it happen?” Eli asked quietly.
“Don’t you mean ‘how’ did it happen?” I knew I sounded bitter, but he didn’t budge or look away uncomfortably like most people did. I hated that question. It was like people felt entitled to ask it any time they found out my fiancé had died. I understood human interest and all, but why was I expected to rattle it off as easily as a bullet point on the résumé of my life?
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me,” Eli said softly. “I just want to know you—in any way I can. I’m not sure what the right thing to say is, but if I ever offend you, please feel free to tell me to fuck right off.”
My lip twitched. “It was two years ago.” I found myself surprised that I wanted to continue. “We lived together, and had been engaged for over a year at that point. But we’d been dating since we were eighteen so we weren’t in this big rush to walk down the aisle.” I smiled sadly, knowing that even if Michael had lived, we never would have taken that step. But that was something I wasn’t ready to share.
Eli’s eyes darkened but he didn’t say anything.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “The whole thing happened so suddenly. One minute I was on my way to meet him for dinner, and the next he was gone.” I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory. “It was pouring rain that day. He always biked everywhere and I never even worried about it. He was one of those people who seemed bigger than life, you know? Untouchable. But all it took was one moment and he was gone. He hit a slick spot and fell into traffic. A car hit him and—” I choked back a sob.
“Hey,” Eli whispered. “You don’t have to talk about this.”
“It’s okay,” I said, inhaling through my nose. “I’ve always been a crier. I can’t help it. It’s been two years, and I’ve had time to process it—to accept it. But it’s still so surreal to think about. He was so young and invincible. He was the boy I fell in love with when we were just teenagers. Then he was gone in an instant.”
Eli rubbed his tense jaw.
“I can’t even imagine what it would be like to go through that,” he finally said. “You were both too young.”
“Unfortunately, there isn’t an age limit on something like that.”
Eli blew out a breath. “Ireallywant to hug you right now, but I’ve noticed...” He paused, assessing me. “I’ve noticed that it doesn’t seem like you want to be touched.”
I cradled my head in my hands, embarrassed he’d noticed. “When Michael died, everyone wanted to hug me. Some people say they won’t hug you, because you look too fragile or they feel uncomfortable about it, but that wasn’t my experience at all. Suddenly it felt like everyone had to have a piece of me, some thing that could only be given through physical contact.
“Every time I entered a room—hug. Every time I left a room—hug. Like if they didn’t encircle me with their arms and tether me to them, my now-empty life would cause me to float away, or something. But any time someone reached for me, it jerked me out of my own mind. Like they had physically pulled me from my thoughts. Maybe that was a good thing—maybe I shouldn’t have been alone with them. But how was I ever going to get comfortable with them if I wasn’t, you know?”
