Page 18 of He Falls First

“Yeah, my assistant skills aren’t so great for my personal life. I tend to prioritize other people over myself. It’s something I need to work on.”

“Fair enough,” I say, considering her words. As much as I find this whole pledge thing ridiculous, maybe there’s a lesson in it for both of us.

“I’ve been taken for granted in relationships before,” she says, her foot tapping nervously against the floor. “I don’t want that to happen again. But I guess I’m not very good at picking men who will value me.”

“Valuing yourself isn’t about picking the right guys,” I say, carefully measuring my words. “It’s about understanding your own worth. You don’t have to worry about picking the right men. It’s about being you, and the right men will come to you.”

“That’s what you think,” she says with a hint of self-deprecation. “You probably don’t have to try very hard at all.”

“Harder than you think,” I mutter, truthfully. I don’t usually let people in, let alone care enough to want to fix whatever mess they’re dealing with. But there’s something about Elizabeth—something that makes me want to see her win, just once, for herself. “Why do you care so much about what other people think, anyway?”

“Um, because I’m not you?”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

“Because I’m not a rich, handsome dude who can be rude and still get whatever he wants,” she says, her eyes teasing. “I kind of have to care. I won’t get by in life otherwise. I have to find the right people, talk to them in the right way. Can’t just be all focused on what I want.”

“Look,” I grumble, leaning across the linen-draped table, “you’ve got it backwards. It’s not about hunting down the right men.” My gaze locks onto hers, trying to drill this point home. “You should be the one they’re tripping over themselves to get to.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows hike up, her mouth quirking in skepticism. “Oh? And just how do you suggest I do that?”

“Confidence, Elizabeth.” I lean back, my chair scraping slightly against the hardwood floor. “It’s like armor. Men will fall at your feet first if you’re untouchable enough.”

“Confidence?” She gives a small laugh, the sound more bitter than sweet. “That’s easy for you to say, Hendrix. You walk into a room like you own it. I walk in trying not to spill my coffee.”

“Exactly my point.” My fingers drum against the table, betraying a restlessness I usually keep under wraps. I scan the room, searching for an example, and my eyes land on a woman sitting at the bar. She has a certain air about her—confident and poised, sitting tall, red lips curved in a knowing smile.

“See that woman over there? Notice how she carries herself. She knows her worth. Doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks. That’s confidence.”

Elizabeth follows my gesture, studying the woman before deflating a little. I find it odd how any interest in this conventionally attractive woman fizzles out the moment I compare her to Elizabeth. But Elizabeth seems entirely oblivious as she shakes her head.

“Come on, I’m nowhere near her league,” she argues, glancing at the woman. “There’s a reason she’s with men like—that.”

A man joins the woman at the bar, gives her a kiss on the cheek. His suit and slick haircut make up the uniform of banker types everywhere.

Elizabeth turns back to me. “Men like you,” she adds quietly.

I frown at the couple. “And men like that… Is that the kind of man who interests you?”

I pull at my sleeves to cover the tattoos sneaking out from my wrists. I may look the part here, and that’s on purpose. But if she looks close, she’d see I’m not that type of man, like she thinks.

Elizabeth’s eyes dart between me and the other man, like she’s making calculations. “I don’t know,” she says, color rising in her cheeks. “Point is, I’d need a whole personality transplant to exude that level of confidence.”

I shake my head, an unexpected irritation gnawing at me. The woman at the bar is attractive, sure, but she suddenly seems as appealing as stale bread. Not when Elizabeth’s here, being all… Elizabeth. There’s no way she sees herself clearly.

“Listen, you don’t need to change who you are. Just stand tall, look people in the eye, make them know you expect to be valued.” It surprises me how much I want her to believe it. “Trust me. You’re more than capable of exuding that same level of confidence. You just need to believe in yourself.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Coach,” she replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes. But I can see a hint of appreciation in her gaze. She takes a deep breath and straightens her posture, attempting to emulate the other woman.

“See? You’ve got this.”

“Maybe,” she says, still sounding uncertain. But it’s only a matter of time before she starts believing in herself like I do. And when she does, those men she dates won’t stand a chance.

“Absolutely.” My conviction is fueled by the unshakeable belief that she deserves to be seen the way I’m beginning to see her—not as the nice girl who will fetch your coffee, but as someone formidable.

Her eyes meet mine for a brief moment before she looks away.

I’ll be damned if I let anyone take this amazing woman for granted again.

---