Page 41 of Not in Love

All signs pointed to no—chief among them, the fact that she saw him as a villain, bent on robbing her mentor for his own diabolical amusement. And yet, Eli had managed to foolishly hold out hope until ten minutes past seven. At which point, in the very hotel lobby where he’d first laid eyes on her, he had to face the truth: however out of control his attraction to Rue might be, she was coping with hers far better. And damn him if he wasn’t fucking envious.

His draft beer was still half-full, and he didn’t hurry to finish it. He had nowhere to be, and since Rue was going to be all he thought about anyway, he might as well do so in a place that reminded him of her, where he could nurse his foul mood just as thoroughly as his drink.

The obvious distraction would be to find someone else. There were apps, or the old-fashioned ways: bars, colleagues, friends of friends, who’d help him exorcize the last woman he should be taking up with. But Eli didn’t need to try it to know that no one else was going to be enough. He would rather go home on his own, catalog everything he knew about Rue Siebert, and jerk off like the pitiful loser he clearly was.

“It’s a bad idea,” Hark had told him the night before, driving home from the party. “And you know that.”

“What is?”

Hark had rolled his eyes. “Come on, Eli. You look at Rue Siebert like her pussy tastes like beer. Stop pining.”

“You’re the one who sent me to her the other day. And I don’t pine.”

“Then why are you being like this? Jesus, you’ve been in actual relationships and never lost your mind. What’s so different now?”

Did you look at her? he’d wanted to ask. Tonight? Did you hear her voice? Did you see her expression when she first noticed me? Did you see her mouth?

“I’m not saying she isn’t beautiful.” Hark. Reading his mind. “And she obviously has that energy you like—”

Eli had laughed. “The energy I like?”

“Hyper-competent. Mysterious. ‘I scored better than you on the quiz, and I could kill you with a pencil’ energy.”

“Not one of the women I’ve been with was mysterious. Or murderous.”

“Because you used to know better.”

“Yeah, fuck off,” he’d said mildly. “Nothing’s happening with her.” A long pause. “I just want to fuck her. We’re not going out for milkshakes or planning a coastal town weekend.”

Hark had dropped his head to the steering wheel. “Don’t do any of it. We are going to take Kline, and she’s going to fucking hate you for that. She already does. Plus, she chose to put her trust in Florence Kline, which clearly indicates shit judgment. Who would do that?”

They’d exchanged a dry, self-commiserating glance. “Three dumb assholes, that’s who,” Eli had muttered.

Twenty-four hours later, he could admit that Hark was right. His best bet was to avoid Rue. Get her out of his—

“Eli.”

He looked up. She stood less than three feet away.

“Hi,” she said.

The green dress and complicated hairdo from the night before had been punch-in-the-gut, spank-bank-directory material. Tonight she was a completely different person: plain white T-shirt tucked into jeans, no makeup, and . . .

Still a punch in the gut. Still spank-bank directory. He wondered if there was a version of her that wouldn’t be.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I . . .” She shrugged.

“Couldn’t make up your mind?”

“Something like that.” She climbed onto the stool next to him, lips curled in her small non-smile. “Then I did. Figured that if you were still here, maybe it was fate.”

“You don’t believe in fate.”

“Never have. You?”

“I think it’s all bullshit.”

She was quiet, that silence full of stares and pulled strings simmering between them. “Tomorrow. Are you still going to play golf with Eric Sommers? Try to convince him to . . .”

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