“Thanks for the help with the fitting.” Eitan nudges my shoulder. “You were right.”
I give a half-hearted smile, trying not to feel bitter that I’m helping Eitan do a better job than myself. As long as the weddinggoes well, I figure Pen will be happy. And my query will land in Alice’s inbox. It’s the thought of that fateful ping of an email laden withmyquery letter that propels me forward. Iwillfind a way to get Pen everything she wants for this wedding.I’ll get another chance, I tell myself, preparing for some of my favorite clothes to get soaked (and ruined) on the way to the train.
I realize Eitan just said something that’s been lost to the miasma of my internal monologue. “What?”
“I asked if you want a ride.”
My shoes and blouse arereallybegging me to take that offer. But I got a hot flash in the middle of Lake Michigan—the one place it should be anatomically impossible to get one—because Eitan’s hand came close to stroking my cheek. Imagine what kind of damage could be inflicted in an enclosed vehicle.
“I’m good.” I look back at the rain, begrudging my touch-starved skin for ruining one of my favorite pairs of shoes. I stare at said shoes until Eitan walks away.
A car honks behind me.
“Ruby!” Eitan calls from the driver’s seat of a beat-up green Subaru Outback nestled toward the back of the carport. “This is ridiculous. You live down the street from me!” Eitan honks the horn again, just to be annoying. “Can you please get in the car? I won’t be able to drive home until I know you’re not getting soaked in this storm.”
I turn red.
He honks again.
“Fine!” I yell, walking to the car, wanting the honking to end. I yank the door open and shove myself inside. The car is old—it still has a CD slot—and every surface is covered in mud-colored vinyl. It smells like pine, somehow. Wouldn’t put it past him to have a fresh branch sitting in the back, permanently soaking the car in the distinctive scent of bro camping in the redwoods.
I have to keep ribbing him, because otherwise I’ll focus too hard on the fact that only a center console separates us, rain is turning the world upside down, and Eitan’s presence is heating up this small space like the surface of the sun.
chapter
fourteen
“We work well together,”Eitan says, poking me in the ribs as he drives down Sheridan Road. The sound of the word ‘together’ coming out of his mouth in this confined space is too much.
“No, we don’t!” I say, like a madwoman.
“Sheesh, okay. We’re horrible together. That better?” He laughs. The sound fills up the car.
“Yes,” I mutter. I shift in my seat, leaning as far away from him as possible.
This part of Sheridan is quiet and verdant and positively steeped in privilege. I want to take a bath in it. The rain is making it difficult to see more than ten feet ahead and we’re about to hit the part that winds through small bluffs, so Eitan slows to fifteen miles per hour. This drive already feels ten hours long.
“So…” Eitan taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “Are you going to ask out Andres?”
I flick an invisible speck of dust off my leg. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you clearly liked him.”
“I liked him…” The aftershocks of my daydream about Andres flash through me. Picturesque and idyllic and utterly preposterous. “From afar.”
“Only way to find out if you like him from close up is to ask him on a date.”
I can’t help the bark of laughter at the prospect of me, Ruby Hirsch, asking out someone like Andres. The only dates I’ve been on have been from the dating app Found, all squarely fueled by someoneelsemaking the first move.
I’ve asked out one person in my life—Grant—after three Long Island iced teas made me brave, and we all know how that turned out.
“Why don’tyouask him out?” I deflect.
“He’s not my type,” Eitan says, calm as he navigates streets half flooded with rain.
“What is your type?” I ask, trying to sound dry and sardonic. It comes out more desperately curious.
His attention flits for a second from the road to me. “I like…people who are nerdy.”
