“No need to apologize. John seems nice.”
Elijah opens the lid to his bowl, sending me a smirk over the steam.“Baked potato soup, huh?”
I shrug and say, “Well, it is cold outside.”
Elijah laughs, shaking his head as he blows the steam away from his face. I try not to take note of his pursed lips or the smell of mint coming from his breath.
But I’m only human, and worse—a man, so I taketremendousnotice.
“I find it kind of funny that a big guy like you likes soup so much. It’s such an odd picture,” he jokes.
I narrow my eyes on him. “Why is that so funny, angel?”
Elijah flushes once again at the use of the pet name, and he refuses to look me in the eye. “I don’t know… you’d just think a guy like you would like steak or something.”
“Tsk tsk, how judgmental of you.”
Elijah freezes, and he sputters for words. “Wait! I-I didn’t mean it like that! I’m n-not saying that you can’t like soup, I just—”
“Chill, Eli. I was joking,” I interrupt, and Elijah visibly relaxes in front of me. He peeks at me from under his lashes as he wraps his lips around a spoonful of soup.Tease.“So, a date, huh?”
“Yeah, do you want to?” he asks carefully, and I nod.
“I’d love to. What’s the plan?”
“Let’s meet at Tabitha’s Place for dinner, and then we’ll go do something fun. Just dress casually.”
“Tabitha’s Place?” I ask, and Elijah has no issue picking up on my slight panic.
“Do you not like their food?” he questions, and I find myself choosing my words carefully.
I can’t very well tell him the owner’s son threatened me a few days ago—that would lead to too many questions. And clearly, Elijah really likes eating there with the amount in which I catch him going to the establishment.
“No, I like it. We can go.” In response to my words, Elijah watches me for a moment, assessing my reaction. “I just haven’t gone too often, so I was nervous for a moment. But it should be fine,” I lie, and some part of me aches at the action.
I lie to him far too often, even if it is for a good reason.
“Well, isn’t that true for all places in town?”
I laugh. “Good point.”
“Wait,” Elijah starts, sitting up straight. “Speaking of—how did you know where the office was? You never come into town, let alone to the newspaper. I don’t think I ever told you…” He begins to think, staring at a wall behind me as he most likely replays various conversations we’ve had.
I find myself panicking again. I can’t tell him I know the location of theFort Myers Postbecause I stalk him, but he’s not far off. Sure, I’ve lived here my entire life, but the newspaper wasn’t always located on this strip of town, and I never had a reason to hunt it down.
“There’s only oneFort Myers Post,” I grasp at straws, doing my best to act neutral. “So it wasn’t hard to find. Plus, Google Maps exists."
Just when I think Elijah will push further, his ever-calculating brain seeing right through me, he shrugs.
“Makes sense. Well, I’m glad you found me. Thanks for lunch.” He smiles brightly, little dimples appearing to greet me, and guilt once again overcomes me.
I’m the fucking worst. I swear it—I will tell him. Once things have settled and Elijah and I are in a stable place, I will sit him down and tell him exactly what I know and what it means.
I will tell him that I’ve been watching him, and he’ll understand that it wasn’t for some perverted interest, but because I feel drawn to him at all times.
Things will be okay, and I will be able to put down this guilt that I am holding onto so tightly.
“Well, I’ll head home and get ready for our date, then,” I say, standing and throwing my empty container away.
