Page 59 of Hazel and Elijah Find Out: First They F*cked Around

Elijah lifted an eyebrow toward me and I shrugged.

“Elijah March,” Ben spoke into the microphone, “get on up here.”

Pressing a quick kiss to my cheek, Elijah stepped away. Unlike when Nora moved through the crowd and it opened for her, everyone squeezed in on him. He inched toward the stage with a smile on his face. I shook my head at how his smile sparked responses in the women on all sides of him—their eyes dreamy, their hands…touchy.

I didn’t consider myself the jealous type, but I really wanted them to take their hands off him.

“Let the man through,” Ben said. After a few beats, it was clear no one was interested in “letting the man through.” Ben shifted his weight, then threw his hands in the air. “This is clearly going to take a while, so I’ll tell you the services Elijah is offering.”

Ben went on, but I was too distracted by Elijah’s laughter as he made slow progress to the front of the room. He was beautiful, and nice.

Depending on the crowd, he was very popular. It must give him whiplash how quickly people went from shunning him to coveting him. Before buying the clinic, I could fade into the wall, but the spotlight on me grew even brighter when I’d started dating him. He was so noticeable, it rubbed off on me. He knew just how to navigate it, while it made me feel clumsy and awkward in comparison.

Their attention fit like a too tight outfit. Making me aware of all of my flaws and any seams that could tear, any threads barely holding me together.

He had just stepped onto the stage, his clothes a bit less put-together than they had been. His wavy hair was a bit rumpled, falling over his eye. Combined with the stubble on his jaw, and the lopsided grin on his face, he looked exactly like the roughish playboy I’d always thought he was. My heart thundered in my chest, and I couldn’t look away from his beauty. Just like when I was a teen, watching him from the fringed edges of the group, I was overwhelmed with how lovely he was.

But there was also my quiet insecurity with him by my side, would I always be under fire?

Maybe it was the way everyone was fawning over him, or because I was all too aware of how strongly I’d fallen for him. But that question began bouncing around, gaining volume. I wiped my clammy palms on my skirt. Voices called out amounts, and I wanted to be excited about the money being added to the donation, but I was too busy being wrapped up in my head.

And good god, didn’t that make me horrible?

He was so much more than the sum of their whispers. He didn’t deserve to have me feel ashamed to be with him. Even if my shame had nothing to do with him and everything to do with my fear of negative attention.

I didn’t even hear how much the final amount was when Ben called out, “Sold!”

Elijah jumped down from the stage and was instantly surrounded by women again. I could only see the top of his head, but judging by how tightly packed the group was, he must have someone pressed to each side of his body.

“How did you snag a man that dishy?” Emily asked, wiping the bar top clean.

“I didn’t snag him; he came to me.” I wished my tone sounded less defensive.

“Girl, I’m just joking around. I don’t think you went out with, like, a butterfly net and caught him.” She shrugged. “It’s just kinda surprising.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, even though I knew the reason. But I had an open wound just waiting for some salt to be poured into it.

“Because you’re you, and he’s him. You aren’t an obvious match.”

Inwardly, I winced.

“But you look good together. You both look happy,” she went on. “But like, everyone in town has been talking for weeks about how weird it is.”

I looked down at the toe of my shoe—my throat tight.

Everyone in town talking about me.

Pressing a hand to her sternum, she said, “I mean, I think it’s great. Just, ya know, be careful.”

Emily strode down the bar, saving me from responding.

Dennis stood next to Ben on stage. The bidding had started, and I was already a couple of bids behind. I needed to swallow the ache in my throat. I needed to appear unfazed, unburdened, and unhurt.

I needed to win that carpentry work.

“One hundred and seventy-five dollars! Do I have one hundred and seventy-five dollars?” Ben asked into the microphone.

Throwing my hand high over my head, I proclaimed, “One hundred and seventy-five.”

---