“Sure.”
She dug into one and did the whole cross-eyed moan thing. “Raspberry? My goodness, it’s delicious.”
“You’ve said that about every croissant you’ve tried.”
“Well, each one is better than the last. Now—” she paused, tapping the table. “Are you ready for a blind date?”
“A date? No. No way.” I shook my head, my instinct shouting at me to get out. “I told you, I’m athree-nightguy.”
My palms sweated and my chest ached at my inability to do what she said. Dating meant feelings and feelings meant eventually pain. “Elle, I never date. Ever.”
She wiggled her brows, not getting the level ten panic going on inside me. “You might need three nights to really enjoy what I’m talking about.”
“What—”
She plopped the packages on the table, spreading them out and making sure to not knock the croissant plate off the edge. There was writing on each package, and the shape hit me. They were books.
“Four blind dates with books, Cal. Books. Not a human. So, stop coming up with ways to run.”
Not a human.She wasn’t talking about someone else. Thank god. I had nothing to offer another person except three nights in bed.
I let out an awkward chuckle. “Was I that obvious?”
“Mr. Allergic to Feelings? Yes.” She scrunched her nose, smiling at me with so much warmth that my chest got tight.
I focused on the books and her loopy writing. “How does this work?”
“Which one sounds good to you?”
Scientist abandoned on a planet and becomes a pirate to survive
Grumpy writer lives next to sad writer and form a slow burn relationship
Friends go skiing but one dies, and then another.
Five teenagers go into a room. One dies. But who did it?
I picked up the four options, enjoying the feel of the first choice. It was floppy. Plus… Pirate? Space? Abandoned? Those sounded more up my alley, and a flicker of excitement weaved its way in my soul. Elle glanced over at me, her teeth coming down on her bottom lip as her eyes lit up with anticipation. This mattered to her.
“This one.” I set the other three off to the side and unwrapped the floppy pirate book. Elle pushed up onto her elbows, leaning closer to me as I opened it. Her excitement hung in the air, and if me reading made her this happy, I’d buy every book in the world for her. Once the paper came off, Elle took it and folded it into nice squares.
“The Martian.” I eyed the orange cover and read the back. “Saw the movie a while back but never knew it was a book.”
“It’s an interesting writing style. Please, read it, and next week you can tell me about it. I loved his storytelling.” She tapped her fingers on the table, her nails yellow and orange, and she took the stack back. There was another one, a fictionized true crime one that also caught my interest, but space was cooler, and you couldn’t tell me otherwise.
I could schedule a few hours a day to read it in between the gym and my plants. Honestly, hours went by without me doing a single thing some days, so it was better if I had a plan. Gave me purpose. Hanging with the guys after Ty’s invitation was different. Not bad, not amazing, but all right. My skin felt too tight, and I had to force myself to laugh instead of fully relaxoffthe ice, but they didn’t look at me like they wanted to hit me the entire time. There were even insides jokes I was a part of now instead of looking outside in.
Even if I hated the book, I wanted to read it so I could have something else to talk to her about. “I can’t wait.” I held the book up and smiled.
Elle’s entire face lit up, and her cheeks pinkened. “You need to smile more, Cal. You have a great one.”
“Uh, thanks.” I pulled on the collar of my shirt, the café seeming a little bit too warm. I set the book on my lap and retrieved my laptop from the other chair. “You ready for day one of boot camp?”
“Yes.” She yawned, covering her mouth and apologizing. “Sorry, I’m exhausted.”
“Late night? You should’ve rested since you weren’t at the bar.” I didn’t like knowing she was tired. She worked her ass off almost every night, so I hoped she’d rested and watched TV.
“The writing group met for three hours and continued at a coffee shop and an acoustic show. I don’t think Ty and I left until eleven. That was like ten hours of talking, and you know I’m a chatterbox.” She shrugged, her self-deprecating joke not hitting.
