Page 17 of Unforgettable Player

“You want this spot back?” I ask.

“No, it’s fine.” His neck flushes as he grabs his book.

“The Brothers Karamazov,” I say, nodding to the book. Wow, smooth. Some of your best work. Except, I’m not ‘doing my work’ on Elliot. I’m just making polite conversation. Right?

“Have you read it?” he asks.

“Tried it once. Didn’t understand it.”

I expect the same mocking smirk I’d get from Scout, or one of those pretentious guys I tried to date back at college. Instead, Elliot just offers me an understanding smile. “I know what you mean,” he says. No, he doesn’t. I’ve seen those annotations. He gets it. “But I think people try to make Dostoevsky seem more unattainable than he really is. His work is actually really accessible when you let go of the pretentious, gatekeeping attitude of academics.”

I smile as his cheeks turn an attractive shade of pink. He probably thinks he’s being embarrassingly nerdy right now. And okay, yeah, he is being nerdy, but it’s definitely not embarrassing. In fact, I really wish I wasn’t wearing these flimsy shorts, because if I stand up in the next few minutes, he’ll see how impressed I really am.

“Maybe you could explain it to me sometime?”

Stop it. Stop flirting with Eli.

He looks down at the book and nervously thumbs the already dog-eared corner. “Sure,” he mumbles.

I made it weird. Fix it—now.

“It looks fun, anyway,” I joke, nodding to the gloomy cover.

He snorts. Putting on a slightly dramatic voice, he says, “English writers—I will die for honor, American writers—I will die for freedom, French writers—I will die for love, Russian writers—I will die.”

I bark a laugh so loud, Scout scowls at us from the pool.

“What are you two talking about over there?” she calls.

I ignore her, keeping all my attention focused on Elliot. “Did you make that up?”

“No.” He brushes his hand through his slicked-back hair and blushes deeper. “I read it somewhere. It’s silly.”

“It’s funny.”

“It’s accurate.”

Our eyes meet and I hold his gaze for a moment before he looks away.

Fuck, Elliot has beautiful eyes, and beautiful skin and beautiful lips….

Scout climbs out of the pool and even the water dripping from her hair is unusually aggressive.

“Come on, Eli, let’s go get something to eat.”

Elliot follows her without argument. I have to bite my tongue to stop from asking if that’s what Elliot actually wants.

As he passes me, he splashes water on my leg. I don’t know if it comes off his hair or body or his shorts, but … the second I realize water from Elliot is on me, I freeze, staring at the droplets sitting innocently on my bare leg. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I brush them with my thumb and close my first around them.

6

ELLIOT

Naomi and Richard are home from work and Connor doesn’t have hockey camp, so we decide to take a drive out to the beach to enjoy the weather.

The small beach we used to hang out at as kids is reasonably quiet despite the season. Most tourists head to the larger beaches, where parking isn’t permitted and there are more amenities. This is very much a local beach, with small patches of soft sand amidst the rockier ground.

Water laps the shore as we set up camp. I try my best not to look in Connor’s direction while he helps Naomi set up her umbrella.