Do you have to pile on?
Aren’t you together?
Beck
I’m at the bar with Noa. Come meet up
Liv
I’m with Fern. Come over here
Shit. Of course Liv was with Fern. Now she probably knew he was asking after her. He needed toignore,not engage. He would not be heading up to town, not to the bar, and definitely not to Fern’s apartment.
Fitz valued his solitude, focusing on his art away from judgment. He texted them back to say he was busy, then shoved his phone face down on the counter and went into the living room to smoke a bowl before cooking.
His bear grumbled when he abandoned the fish. All that snorting was driving Elliott nuts, but the grizzly got on board with his idea, and they both calmed down again when he picked up his pipe.
Fern was clearly into smoking. He could always swing by to give her some bud. It would be the perfect excuse to visit without being weird. A housewarming gift—and an apology for being unapproachable when she came down his road.
With a long exhale, tension floated from Fitz’s shoulders and he hopped to his feet, feeling better than he had a minute before. He didn’t need to pursue their potential bond. He could just give her a friendly gift.
His grizzly liked the plan—probably because he was horny and wanted to smell her up close.
Snorting at himself, Elliott got to work on his meal: a nice trout and risotto. He liked to cook, loved it really, and he could throw a beautiful pot, but aside from that, what did he bring to the table—hypothetically—if hewaslooking for a relationship?
Not much.
Not nearly as much as Able… for example. Not that he compared himself to Adam that often, it’s just that he couldn’t stop wondering: Why had Fern smelled like him?
Either way, Elliott wasn’t looking. He wasn’t considering the potential bond. And it didn’t matter. She was way out of his league, far too hot and outgoing for the slice of the world he stuck to. He preferred things quiet, and he recognized his flaws: He was a big lug, a stoner, a man with very little motivation outside of his hobbies.
Oh, and his hair was too long.
Flaws aside, helikedhis life. He made a passable income, lived a quiet existence, and there wasn’t room in it for anyone else.
Alone with three empty chairs staring back at him, he ate while reminding himself all the reasons he kept his status quo:
One: He liked to sit on his sofa naked, and no one else needed to know that.
Two: Socializing exhausted him, and roommates brought conversation. He hardly even talked to his family.
Three: Ceramics were a fragile craft. The risk of a visitor breaking something was stressful enough. Having a partner, amatearound all the time? Not worth the trouble.
He liked to sleep in and stay up late. A mate might wreck his proofing bread, choose the wrong music, leave a mess where he neededhismess to go. It just wasn’t reasonable. This is why he kept things casual, why he kept things to hookups, why he’dignoredevery other potential bond that had popped up in his life.
Things were good. He wasn’t going to rock the boat.
3
Fern goes home.
PassingReads&Roastsat a crawl, Fern peered into the darkened second-floor windows of the bookstore and coffee shop before turning into the parking lot out back. Her apartment, comped by the town as a thank you for moving to such a rural area, sat upstairs at the opposite end of the building. Olivia had stayed in the same studio last fall before she moved in with Ben. And while Liv had taken the place furnished, Fern couldn’t bear to part with her things. She’d only accepted a complimentary bed. Her old mattress sucked.
The Tomlinsons, her new landlords, were closing up shop for the night, and Anita, with her long brown braid, swayed over to introduce herself and hand off the keys with some day-old baked goods. She and her husband offered to stay and help, but Fern declined with a smile. Olivia may have left, sick of waiting, but she’d texted before disappearing with an assurance she’d be back—with reinforcements.
Sitting on the roof of her car, Fern enjoyed a cold croissant and the quiet night until a white Jeep rolled into the lot and Liv, Ben, and a friend hopped out.
“Livvy!” Fern yelled, sliding down her windshield.
