“Yeah. You like cliché dinner dates, right?”
Her hand drops to reveal a scowl.“Classic.”
I grin and pick up a fry. “If you say so.”
“You are really bad at asking people out, you know that? You’re supposed to flatter me, not make fun of me.”
“Huh. Usually, I just name-drop my dad.”
Eleanor’s eyes widen. “Have you seriously done that?”
I’m quiet a beat too long.
“Oh mygod.”
“No, listen. I haven’t.… However, well-intentioned friends may have used that line on my behalf once or twice before.”
“Did it work?”
“I mean. For a one-night stand, sure.”
Eleanor shakes her head in mock disappointment. “Well,you’re going to need to up your game if you want a date with me.”
Before she’s even finished speaking, I set my plate back on the tray and knee-shuffle over to her side of the bed. “Eleanor. I think you’re really smart and cool and fun to be around.”
“Thank you,” she says primly. And then she lifts a brow, like,go on.
Still smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, I ask: “Will you go on a date with me?”
“I don’t know… I’ve never dated a divorcé before.”
I tip my head in acknowledgment. “First time for everything.”
Her eyes flit down to her plate, and back up to me again. “Fine. You can take me to dinner.”
I bite my lip and do a slow, celebratory fist pump, which makes Eleanor roll her eyes, but she’s smiling, so I count it as a win.
She’s still wrapped up in her plush robe, hoarding all the pillows behind her back. Her plate is balanced in her lap, but she sets it aside as she reaches over to snag her phone from the bedside table.
“Shit. I never called my sister back.”
I manfully ignore the way her robe has fallen open to reveal her leg all the way up her thigh and scoop my shorts up off the floor. “I can get out of your hair.”
“Oh.”
I look at Eleanor over my shoulder as I button my fly. “?‘Oh’?”
She’s sitting with her knees curled in now, cheeks gone pink.
“You don’t have to go. I don’t really have time to call her now anyway. I should start getting ready for the show.”
This mention of the show is momentarily jarring. I didn’t forget about it, exactly. But I was preoccupied, for obvious reasons. Now I check my watch and realize Eleanor is right—if we want to make it for the actual show, not just the after-party, we need to get moving.
Eleanor catches my frown and stands up, tightening her robe. “I mean, you can go, obviously. I’m realizing you probably want to go back to your room to shower or change.”
My fingers drag across the stubble on my jaw. I still need a shave. A fresh shirt wouldn’t hurt either. “I don’t have to,” I echo. “If you want some company while you get ready.”
A shy smile tugs at Eleanor’s lips. “Cool.”
