Page 31 of What It Means To Be Found

“That’s not how alcohol works,” Garrett added, after watching my mouth that formed the words my hands signaled. “It lowers your inhibitions; it doesn’t magically make you develop an attraction towards people.”

I felt my frown melt away at his words, pondering them.

He had a point.

I kept going back and forth regarding hypothetical reasons to explain Eloise and her behavior towards me after I received those voice memos, but every time I tried to broach the subject with her, it got derailed. Did I want something intimate with Eloise? Obviously. I just didn’t know what to do about it. How to talk to her without someone fucking interrupting us, or her misinterpreting my words.

Eventually, through signing, and Adam having to vocalize a good chunk of my communication to the rest of the guys and Taylor, I briefly explained my predicament with Eloise. As soon as Adam had confirmed that I was interested in Eloise like that, Josh shot both fists up into the air in celebration, pumping them a couple of times before settling back in his seat.

“So, talk to her. Tell her how you feel.” Josh encouraged.

“It sounds like you two just need space to communicate without everyone else around. One-on-one.” Tom added, standing straighter after Kyle rested a top hat on his head.

Easier said than done, I explained, adrenaline pumping in my veins at the knowledge everyone in this room had of me now, We have a communication barrier.

“Hot,” Josh smirked, clearly referring to the voice memos that Eloise sent me. I wasn’t sure what to think of that.

“You have a phone, yes?” Garrett asked, his gaze landing on where the rectangle stuck out in my pocket, “Use it.”

I frowned; I don’t know if I can text her unannounced yet.

“I think you can.” Josh encouraged, his teeth playing with his lip ring as he eyeballed my phone in my pocket as well.

“You won’t know unless you try!” Kyle sang as he pulled the top hat off of Tom and stood up on his toes for a kiss. Tom obliged before turning to face me with his words of encouragement.

“Just text her. Start small. The worst she could do is say she isn’t into you like that, which really seems unlikely after what everyone else has said.”

I stared at the couple on the far side of the room, at how comfortable Kyle and Tom were reaching for each other. How Kyle could wander over to the cufflinks and Tom would follow him without a word and wrap his arms around his partner’s shoulders, planting a quiet kiss on Kyle’s head while Kyle just smiled and leaned into the contact, content as he browsed men’s accessories.

I felt an ache in my chest and reached my hand up to rub it a little before I thought about the sensation too much.

“Just text her,” Adam encouraged from his new spot on the seamstress’ stool. “Worst case scenario, you still don’t have a date for the wedding. Best case scenario…” he let his sentence trail off and shrugged, standing taller at the seamstress’s silent wave of her hand for him to do so.

The conversation shifted again, which I was only a little grateful for. Part of me wanted to blurt out a number of questions to the group, along the lines of “What do I say?” and “What should I start with?” or even “Do people just text ‘hey’ anymore?” I felt out of my league, I hadn’t texted a woman specifically to have a conversation with her in years.

I decided that I would do it, though.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had openly spoken with another group of masculine people about a woman I was interested in. I think the last time I truly did so was back in high school before my accident. Damaged vocal cords made life significantly more difficult when it came to establishing relationships, especially for someone like me who was already introverted. In college, very little communication needed to take place for a woman to want to have sex with me. The same goes for all the hookups I had after signing with the NHL.

I thought about it some more as I took my turn to get measured, noticing how the seamstress’s cheeks blushed as she ran the measuring tape up my leg, across my chest, and around my arms.

I knew I was attractive to some degree.

Courtney and Josh went out of their way to remind me of that every fucking day.

…Was that something I could use to my advantage when it came to Eloise?

9

ELOISE

Weeks had passed since I had both seen or spoken to Logan St. James.

Not going to lie, it was kind of a relief. Thankfully our schedules hadn’t synced up, because I was busy helping my boss, Pat, organize a few events for the early intervention clinic, and I was usually too tired and burnt out at the end of the day to do too much with my friends.

I had a lot going on.

My mother was constantly calling and trying to get me to hang out with her and her friends again. I had limited myself to two brunches over the last month and a half, which seemed reasonable to me. She was clearly upset about the distance I had quickly put between us since moving out, but she was a prideful woman and went out of her way to avoid letting me know that she was struggling with all of it.

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