What the fuck?
The onslaught of emotion boiling out of me is sickening, making me feel dizzy beneath the weight. And I love it. I love the way these horrible feelings warm and rise at the sight of him, as if they’re finally making sense.
And that is the worst part. Because even if he felt this too, I wouldn’t know how to hold him anyway.
“Eli,” I breathe, watching those sweet little dimples cave into his cheeks.
“Grocery shopping?” Elijah begins to tap his knuckles against the melons, as if sound will tell him their worth.
“Yes. You?” I ask.
He nods, peeking up at me as he rounds the stand slowly. Closer to me.
Then, he says, “I never see you around town.”
My eyes dart around our immediate vicinity, and I see an elderly woman eyeing us curiously. My skin crawls.
“I don’t like coming into town.”
“Why?” he presses, now standing next to me.
When did he get so close? I take a step back, creating much-needed distance. The closer he gets, the more I’m tempted to reach out.
“I prefer to be alone,” I say, surprising myself with honesty. It’s incredibly easy, I find, to talk to him.
Elijah hums, trailing a long, slender finger over the closest watermelon.“And how could I convince you to prefer to be alone withme?”
“... What?” I’m just staring at him. There is no way I’ve heard him correctly. Not only were his words incredibly suggestive, but they were also far too bold.
Surely, I misheard him. But Elijah just grins at my wide eyes and stiff shoulders.
“Rowan, get a drink with me after you shop.”He makes it sound less like a recommendation and more like a gentle command.
“No, I—”
“Rowan.” His voice is stern as he cuts me off, and when I meet his eyes, he’s giving me an assessing, no-bullshit kind of expression. “Have a drink with me. Answer some questions, then I’ll leave you alone. Unless, of course, you beg me not to.” He grins, leaning in slightly.
I take another generous step backward, swallowing harshly. Would it… would it be so bad to get a drink? I mean, if he leaves me alone after, it’s worth it, right? I can suffer through one night, surely.
“One drink,” I tell him, watching his eyes light up. That grin spreads from a cocky antagonization to a genuine, full-blown smile.
And yeah, it lights up the whole fucking room, as if he’s single-handedly brought the sun from the sky just to show it to me here in this dingy supermarket.
I remember how his happiness tastes, don’t I? I want to taste it again. I want to swallow it greedily, to hold it inside of myself for use on those days when things get too hard for him.
Only, Elijah is not Benjamin. So Idon’tknow what his happiness tastes like, and I have no right to hold it against my tongue.
With new plans to consider, I get nothing that requires refrigeration and follow Elijah out of the market. He directs me to meet him at the only bar in Fort Myers, and I take my time driving there. It only takes five minutes to cross this small section of town, but I’m nervous. So fucking nervous.
And as I walk into the low-lit, rundown bar, I realize I have every right to be. The bartender and the few stray after-work patrons glance up when I walk in, eyes widening in confusion. I don’t think I’ve ever walked in here before.
I spot Elijah at a two-person high-top toward the back, waving me over. Ignoring the insistent eyes, I make my way to him. He’s grinning at me again, as if it’s impossible to do anything but smile in my company.
He must have run into me right after leaving work, wearing grey slacks, a black sweater, and shiny loafers. In my blue jeans and white t-shirt, I feel tremendously out of place.
Two beers already sit on the table, the bottles sweating with perspiration. I may have taken longer than I thought to make the drive.
“I hope Corona is alright,” he says, leaning forward onto the table. I let my fingers tap against the glass, nodding.
