“What do you mean?” I ask. “How?”
“She knows my past too, and she’s got reservations. Like I said, I get it. I change cars like some people change socks, and I don’t have a good track record with commitments. She wants to know for sure that I’m not just going through a phase. So while I’ve put myself out there for her, she’s still . . . questioning whether to buy or lease.”
I raise my brows and look at Eli’s sandwich. “And do you think putting on five pounds of horsepower is going to earn her answer?”
“No,” Eli admits grudgingly, “but it gives me something to do to help focus myself. And I have to admit, it’s pretty easy to focus when I’m being a good boy, eating right, lifting hard, and . . . well, being there for her.”
“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.”
Locking my computer, I grab my jacket and head upstairs, where Gina’s alone in the front office area. “Hello, Gina. Holding down the fort alone?”
“Something like that,” she says, giving me a smile. It’s an unfamiliar gesture, and I realize that until now, she’d smile for River but not for me. Have I been that much of an asshole to everyone? “She’s in her office. Go on in.”
Lady Elisa’s office, as always, inspires me as I step inside. Motivation, maybe a bit of envy, and an overwhelming sense of awe . . . I’m not sure how to put it all together into words. I just know that I want an office like this someday and that I’ll do anything to make it happen. With my nose to the grindstone for the hard work, a dedication to learning, and even a bit of luck, I feel more confident than ever that I can do it.
Although I still have plans to change the desk placement and get rid of that awful red throne chair. Black leather will suit me better, I decide.
“Noah, I’m glad you could come up so quickly,” Lady Elisa greets me, simultaneously indicating one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Please sit down. I want to have a talk.”
I take one of the chairs, doing my best to stay calm. This isn’t her informal sitting area, which means she wants to talk business. And she’s getting right to it. No small talk or offers of coffee. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“Talk to me about the latest on BlindDate,” she demands.
I feel like this has all the hallmarks of being a trap. Lady Elisa doesn’t often ask things she doesn’t already know the answer to, and I’m certain with BlindDate being the company’s most recent launch, she’s got her finger on the pulse of the stats. But perhaps she’s checking my assessment?