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“And that’s all you need to keep doing,” I assure him. “She’s had a lot of men walk out on her, her father being the biggest one. And I’ve known her even longer than you. Time after time, men come in with sweet words and big promises, only to walk out of her life. Hell, even at her job, she forms a friendship with some of these old folks and they pass away on her. She knows loss—she expects it—so she’s careful with her heart, keeping it hidden behind protective walls and disguised with sassy comebacks.”
He’s quiet, thinking about that for a moment. Quiet, contemplative Eli is an unusual sight, which makes me think there’s a lot of truth to what he’s saying. “She’s trying to push me away, challenging me at every turn to test if I’m gonna bail. But I want to be there for her, Riley. And not just short-term.”
I pat Eli’s hand comfortingly. It’s funny, really. With their history, the shoe’s definitely on the other foot. Eli is typically the one running from any commitment, but it seems that he’s the one chasing now.
“Keep being there, Eli. No matter the test. She notices. That I can promise you.”
Eli nods, and we eat the rest of our sandwiches quietly.
After a bit, he laughs softly. “You realize we went that whole conversation without saying her name?”
“Whose? Voldemort’s?” I ask, and Eli laughs a little louder. “That’s the Eli I know. Look, you want to put some muscle on, do it. But the muscle she’s going to care about the most is the one deep inside your chest, not the ones on your arms. And that muscle’s pretty damn strong already.”
I put my hand over my heart, hoping he can stay the course however long it takes Arielle—I mean, Voldemort—to decide he means it.
Eli nods and wipes his mouth. “Thank you.” A switch flips in his eyes, and he says, “Now, back to our original topic. Exactly how naked were you two when she came in and busted you? Explain everything . . . slowly . . . and in detail.”
He closes his eyes, his fingers at his temples like he’s willing the image to appear in his mind.
I throw my wadded-up napkin at him. “None of your business, pervert!”
“Fine.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Can’t you give me something, though? I’m dying here.” He lets his head fall to the side, his tongue lolling out.
“Well, there was the time on the treadmill . . .” I let my voice taper off as Eli perks up, his eyes suddenly bright and locked on me expectantly. “But that’s private,” I finish with a wink, and he groans in disappointment.
“Ugh, I love you, girl, but I hate you. You’re taking away all my fun.”
“I think you’re getting plenty of fun. I’m just glad that’s not enough now and that you’re looking for something more,” I tell him proudly. “Do you know the most important part of friends with benefits?”
“The benefits,” he says, hands wide like ‘duh’.
“No, Cuddle Fluff,” I say, using his own nickname against him. “The friends part.”
He smiles, and I know he hears me. But it’s going to take time.
When they figure it out, Arielle and Eli are going to be amazing together. They have a strong foundation of friendship, obviously get each other sexually, and they’re putting in the work to build their relationship properly from the ground up as they change the rules from their previous arrangement.
I just hope it doesn’t take too long because a double date with them would be awesome! I think about telling Noah that tonight but decide maybe I’ll keep that brilliant idea to myself for now. I’m not sure he’s ready to hear more about his sister’s love life when she’s been so close to ours recently. It’d help if she’d quit texting him toga pictures when he least expects it, but I’ll admit, that’s pretty funny. And so like Arielle.
Chapter 22
Noah
“Noah, Lady Elisa would like to see you in her office,” Gina says on her end of the line. “Are you busy right now, or can I tell her to expect you soon?”
While Lady Elisa doesn’t demand us to jump at her every request, I’ve found it’s not a bad idea to do so, especially if you want to stay in her good graces. If she asks if you’re busy, you better have a pretty damn good reason to not drop what you’re doing and get up there. Like a fire. Or a rabid dog currently chewing on your ankle.
Or maybe a zombie apocalypse . . . but I think Lady Elisa’s tough reputation would scare off any undead threats. Whether Shaun of the Dead slow style or World War Z speedsters, she’d stop them with a stare.
“I’ll be up there in two minutes,” I assure Gina. “Thank you.”
