“Yes, I see you there,” Penelope informed him. “Hang on a second and then I’ll bathe you in attention.”
Eli had said he wanted to give her something today. This must be what he’d meant. When she’d stood him up, he’d slipped it under her door.
Was this a... poem?
The way he’d arranged the words in lines made her think of poetry. Haiku? She remembered from Ms. Mitchell’s elementary school class that haiku was five, seven, and five syllables. Right?
She read it again, counting the syllables.
Eli Price had written a haiku poem for her.
Oh...wait. Understanding lifted like the tip of a rising sun in her mind. The night they’d shared the fried chicken dinner, she’d listed three concerns about dating him. What had she said to him exactly?
She’d said... She chewed her lip, remembering. She’d said she worried he couldn’t be truthful. He’d told her on the Fourth of July that his squadron was being reassigned in January.
She’d told him she worried he couldn’t share his feelings, and he’d written a poem.
He was a goal-oriented person and he was addressing each of her concerns in turn.
What was left? She’d said something about him being so strait-laced that she didn’t think he’d be willing to make a fool of himself for love.
Was he going to make a fool of himself next?
She lowered onto her sofa. “Come here, Roy.” Her cat sprang from surface to surface, eventually landing on her lap. He gave her a chiding look that clearly said,Where’ve you been?
“Sorry. Family emergency.” Distractedly, she rubbed his head while continuing to stare at the poem.
This gesture from Eli was so very, very sweet. She’d been wrapped up in her brother’s family’s needs for hours. But this paper told her that Elisawher.
That Eli cared.
His thoughtfulness brought tears to her eyes. It seemed like time to revisit her dating rule. It had served her well for a long time. But was it still serving her if it was keeping her from Eli?
Despite the hardships that dating Eli would bring, it could be that he’d be truly, delightfullygoodfor her. It could be that a relationship with him would be worth much more than the costs.
•••
“This team needs to develop the eye of the tiger,” Eli informed the Sharpshooters when they gathered just outside the sports complex twenty minutes before Monday night’s game. “Does anyone know what that means?”
“Orange?” one kid suggested.
“Is it like the eye of a tornado?” another asked.
“The eye of the tiger,” Eli told them, “is about competitiveness. Think about tigers and what their eyes look like when they hunt. They’re focused. Intense. They work hard. They’re deadly. We’re going to have the eye of the tiger tonight. We’re going on the hunt, focused and intense. And we’re going to try to win one for Coach Theo, because he and his family have been going through a hard time lately. I’m sure he could really use some good news.”
“So... what’s our surprise?” the freckle-faced kid wondered.
Eli pulled a small, round tub out of his gym bag. “Hair gel.”
“Hair gel!” They all made faces of disgust. An offended rumble went through the group.
“We’re going to take this gel and we’re going to make mohawks out of your hair so that you’ll look as big, intimidating, and ferocious on the outside as I know you are on the inside.”
“The hair of the tiger!” one of them shouted.
“That’s right,” Eli acknowledged. “Part of winning is having the right attitude and you guys could use a little more swagger. We’re going to have the hair of the tiger and the eye of the tiger. And, remember, if you steal the ball or rebound, you also get the claw of the tiger tattooed on your bicep.”
“I want mine tattooed on my butt,” the class clown stated.
