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I try not to choke on my orange juice at this, but thankfully neither of them seem to notice.
“I’d hardly call the next town over ‘exotic,’” Emile responds with an eye roll. “But here in little ol’ Aura Creek, not much happens.”
“Good,” I say without thinking. I manage to catch myself just in time and hurry to continue before they think the statement is weird. “I’m ready for some peace and quiet after so much traveling.”
The two of them nod as if I’ve said something very profound, but I shove a forkful of tuna salad in my mouth before I can say anything else.
I don’t know what it is, but Emile’s presence makes me want to open up, even though I know that’s the last thing on Earth I can afford to do. But even as I try to avoid his gaze, I feel a pull to him, like there’s something happening between us I don’t dare acknowledge.
“Well, I bet you’ve got plenty ofrealexotic stories to tell then,” says Marcel, breaking my concentration.
Again, I try not to choke, only this time, I’m not so successful. I end up having a coughing fit, and it takes a few minutes to regain composure. Thankfully in the hubbub, the question has been forgotten.
Somehow though, I can’t help but hope I haven’t made a fool of myself in front of Emile, even though that’s the last thing I should be worried about right now.
6
EMILE
I’m trying so hard not to cringe at every single aspect of this conversation, but it’s taking all my willpower to do so, and the longer it goes on, the worse I feel.
I thought this morning’s gawking at the poor woman was bad enough, but now she’s sitting right across from me, eating her tuna salad, drinking her orange juice, and somehow managing to look incredibly sexy doing it. Even that coughing fit was somehow endearing.
Here, up close, I see she’s even more beautiful than I realized when I saw her jogging by. I was aware of her fantastic body – her clothes didn’t exactly do much to hide it. But now I can really appreciate the features of her face. Her eyes are slightly almond-shaped, sloping down softly in a way that makes her look thoughtful all the time.
Her hair is cut straight across in what might be considered a long bob, ending bluntly a few inches above the shoulders. When I look closely, though, I can see there’s a natural curl to it that the haircut is trying to hide. If it was a little longer, I think it would be in waves. Her olive skin is still a little dewy from her run and involuntarily, I imagine myself reaching out to touch her face and feel her skin. It looks so smooth and tempting.
If I were a different man, I would be relishing this right now. Marcel is the kind of man who lives for scenarios like this. He’s in love with the idea of love, which is why he’s always getting himself into trouble.
For me, the idea of feeling this drawn to another person is just… uncomfortable. I don’t know how to have that kind of all-encompassing relationship. My dating history proves it. In fact, I’m content to just be left alone.
But that, it seems, just isn’t in the cards, thanks to my propensity for having well-meaning but meddling friends.
Of course, Marcel decided to call over the hot girl. Uh, the neighbor. Of course, he immediately launched into advertising me as someone far more interesting and ‘exotic’ than I actually am. And of course, the poor woman is now mortified to be here.
This has happened way too many times before, and although I love Marcel, he’s also one of the least subtle people I know. This usually means that he's trying to be ‘helpful’ in situations like this but it only ever leads to disaster. Every time I’m single, he can’t wait to push me to the next woman, even when it’s impractical and sometimes even annoying. Luckily, I don’t really believe there could be a future with this stranger, or maybe his meddling would upset me more.
I do feel a little bad for this Clarissa girl because I’m sure he’s scaring her off. But maybe that’s not a bad thing, big picture. I don’t have time for a relationship anyway.
“So why did you choose Aura Creek?” Marcel is asking, hardly letting the poor girl finish her lunch.
Clarissa looks up again, her deep brown eyes flickering to me for a moment before she looks back at Marcel. Every time she looks at me, even just briefly like she did now, I can feel my heart skip a beat. I fucking hate it.
I look away, not trusting myself to hold Clarissa’s gaze without accidentally showing all my cards. I barely got away with it this morning when I watched Clarissa jog past with all the subtlety of a steamroller.
Still, Marcel should know me well enough to see that I’m clearly not comfortable here, but he clearly has only one thing on his mind – playing matchmaker with me and the neighbor, whether I like it or not.
“To be honest, I kind of just pointed blindly at a map and chose the nearest small town,” Clarissa answers, shrugging. “My parents are still traveling, and I don’t really have any other family, so I figured it didn’t really matter where I moved as long as it was somewhere peaceful.”
“Well, Aura Creek is definitely that,” I find myself saying.So does that mean she’s single? What are you saying? It doesn’t matter. You’re getting on a boat soon. You gonna send her a postcard or what?
I don’t know if it’s eagerness to get to know Clarissa more that makes me speak up, or if it’s desperation to stop Marcel from completely embarrassing me, but once Clarissa turns her attention back to me, I feel my heart start racing again.
And then in the back of my head, I remember Lauren accusing me of not knowing how to let anyone in. I remember all the times she told me that all she wanted to do was love me, but I made it so damn hard, and I never loved her back. And the worst part was, as good as she was to me, I couldn’t tell her she was wrong.
The memory of her acts as a warning, and I remind myself not to get too involved here. Clarissa is my neighbor, that’s all.
“So how did you travel for so long then?” I ask monotonously, trying to keep up a nice neighborly conversation but not get too interested in the answers. It’s a fine line and one I hope I’m walking.
