He sighs, drumming the tips of his fingers against the side panel of the door. “You’re right not to trust people,” he says, turning to face me. “The world is full of selfish men, capable of fleecing even their own kids.” His voice sours.
I know there’s a story there, but I also know that I’d be crossing an invisible line if I tried to fish for details. I can sense the anger underlying his words, the resentment in his tone. I’m reminded of yet another reason that I was good at my job—trust must be earned, not demanded.
After a long, silent stretch, we finally exit the highway, then take a rural road in the direction of the lube shop.
“I’m not keen to dredge up any childhood memories of Mississippi,” Eli suddenly says, his voice low and serious, “but I’ll try. I’ll do my best to pull this off.” The shop comes into view ahead of us. “For all of us.”
I turn into the parking lot, then slide the SUV into park. “Eli,” I say, shifting to face him. “Why are you doing this, really?”
He pauses, glances back at me with that oh-so-fake smile, and says, “Can’t you tell? I’m a hustler with a heart of gold.”
And, when he says this, his Mississippi accent is so spot-on that I can’t help but smile back.
CHAPTER 18Holly
I enter the Ivy Room to find Eli, alone, perusing the display menu. With just one glance at our “Tripp,” my spirits rise. We’ve come so far in such a short time. Eli has memorized every detail of Tripp’s backstory, he’s nailed the clean-cut frat boy haircut and shave, and he looks fabulous in the business-casual clothes I ordered last week: crisp slacks and a blue-gray sport coat with subtle overplaid and a butterfly finish.
After squeezing in three more arduous sessions in the language lab, Eli suddenly broke through the accent. My hunch is that Eli and Luisa’s incident on the side of the highway fixed more than a flat tire. She blushed furiously when I suggested that her moment of kindness did the trick, then quickly redirected the conversation to my upcoming date with Professor Hugh Pridmore.
At the end of the night, as Hugh and I exchanged numbers, I did manage to sneak a quick two-fingered touch, and that jacket was just as soft as I’d imagined. Since then, I’ve been checking my phone constantly, hoping for texts from Hugh and daydreaming about being close to him again.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long for the first text. Hugh followed up first thing the next day:
Woke up to blue skies this morning and thought of our surprise encounter.
Reading his text brought me right back to that strange sensation I had, my entire body on high alert, sitting so close to Hugh while Nikki belted out “Blue Skies.”
ME
Really fun to see you there and yeah its really a beautiful day
HUGH
Is springtime in atlanta always this lovely?
ME
As long as you can see through the pollen
HUGH
I quite like the pollen. Gives everything it lands on a lovely chartreuse tint.
ME
You may be the only person in the world who finds pollen lovely
HUGH
Me and the bees! Dreading my return to dreary london.
I was deep in concentration, trying to come up with some pithy response about the weather in England, when his next text came through, saving me from feeble attempts to appear clever.
HUGH
At least i have our Monday date to look forward to when I’m back. Dinner first?
ME
