“Like a Magic Eye?”
“Exactly,” she said, lips quirking faintly. “Eventually, once I relax and stop trying so hard, a hidden picture appears.”
I smiled back, a little uncertain. Sometimes it felt like Eliza wasspeaking a language I wasn’t entirely fluent in, like I kept missing the idioms and the nuance. “How was your day?”
“It was nice,” she reported lightly, rubbing her shin with the sole of her opposite foot as she idly turned a page. “I went to the beach with Doc.”
I wasn’t sure if she was trying to make me jealous or not, but if she was, it was working. “How was that?”
“It was hot,” she said, and at last she put her book down. “Did you need something, Linden?”
“No,” I said, too quickly. “Well, yes? I, uh, brought you something.”
Her eyebrows lifted at that, just slightly. “Did you now?”
I nodded, pulling a book out of my back pocket—David Foster Wallace,Consider the Lobster—and handing it over. “Have you read it?” I asked her. “The guy at the bookstore said this was his favorite collection of essays.”
Eliza nodded, turning it over to look at the back with a smile that seemed to be mostly to herself. “I’m sure he did,” she agreed. “Let me guess—plaid button-down, hipster glasses?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said in surprise. “Friend of yours?”
“Not exactly,” Eliza said, pushing her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. “He once told me that he couldn’t recommend any novels by female authors because he, and I quote, didn’t really do books aboutromantic shit.”
“Whoops,” I said with a wince, tucking my hands into my pockets. “What did you say?”
“I told him that Mary Shelley wroteFrankenstein,and that it was clear he’d never given a woman an orgasm,” Eliza said lightly.“Then I slashed the tires on his recumbent bike.” She grinned in a way that made it extremely unclear to me whether or not she was kidding. “Anyway, now I mostly use the library.”
I nodded. “So I’m totally striking out here, huh?”
But Eliza shook her head. “I wouldn’t gothatfar,” she said, waggling the book in my direction. “This was very sweet, Linden.”
“I was an asshole last night,” I told her ruefully. “And this morning too, when I blew off your brunch invitation. I’ve known Holiday a long time, and we had some stuff to work out—friendship shit,” I clarified quickly, “not romantic shit—but that’s taken care of now. I only have a few more days here, and I want to make them count.”
“Oh yeah?” Eliza bit her lip—to hide a smile, I was pretty sure. “And how do you plan to do that, exactly?”
“I don’t know,” I told her honestly. “But I was kind of hoping you might help me out.”
Eliza tilted her head to the side like she was considering it; my rib cage expanded with anticipation and hope. “You know what, Linden?” she decided, curling her legs up on the swing to make room for me to sit beside her. “I just might.”
