Page 16 of Eight Steps to Alpha

He nodded furiously. “We did.”

“I think ignoring this conversation has made it even more awkward.” She swallowed, finally able to breathe a little easier. “And I just want you to know, I don’t like you like that, and that I’m A-OK with the Mary Poppins situation. I wouldn’t be helping you otherwise.”

He met her eyes. “Fe?”

Her heart stopped for a moment, but she locked her eyes with his, determined to see this conversation through, “Yeah?” she whispered, her throat so disloyal it betrayed her every time she tried to speak.

“You’re the best friend a guy could ever ask for, you know that?”

Her eyes creased at the corners, and she looked down to her fingers, biting her bottom lip to suppress a stupid grin. “Damn straight, I am,” she said around a bubble of laughter. “You’d be lost without me, Elliot Prescott. Literally.”

He itched the back of his neck and smiled. “Probably so.” But then he met her eyes, and his face grew serious again. “But if this ever happens again—"

She cut him off. “It won’t—”

He held up a hand. “If this ever happens again, we can’t let it fester. We have to talk about it right away, because you mean too much to me to lose you over lack of communication.”

She smoothed her hand over her hair, and gripped the side of her neck, knowing she was blushing. But it was such an Elliot thing to say, she couldn’t help from feeling warm all over with flattery. He was such a good guy. So sweet, and caring, and thoughtful. “Okay.” She promised. “If I ever decide to devour your mouth again, we’ll talk about it first thing in the morning.”

He chuckled, not missing her claim to the money shot. “Do you want to tell me about your hickey now? I mean kiss tattoo—whatever you call it?”

Her brows lifted and she shook her head. “Lip branding.” She corrected. “And not really.” She rose to her feet, deciding it was the perfect time to exit, but he reached out and touched her arm.

It was such a simple touch, gentle, just below her elbow, but it took all the air from her lungs. She glanced up at him again, finding all the light heartedness from a moment ago completely gone.

“You’ve never kept anything from me before. I think that’s what bothers me most.”

She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding and met his eyes. He was right, before now, she told him everything. If they were ever going to move past this, there could be no secrets. Just like before.

“I didn’t tell you.” She swallowed hard. “Because it was nothing.”

His hand dropped from her elbow, but he didn’t move away. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

She wanted to run to her room, to close the door, and not say another word, but she kept her feet planted.

“Who’s the guy?” he said softly a moment later.

Fisting her hands at her sides, she turned to face him. “No one—” but then she lifted her chin. “I mean, Todd Peeking.” She cleared her throat. “Who really means nothing to me, which I think is why it’s been so hard to tell you.” Her brows pinched together, because this line of conversation was incredibly hard to admit. “I think I’ve been on a diet too long, Elli, and all the cake, in all the places, looks too good to me now.”

He smiled, but his chin titled down to his feet, telling her this wasn’t easier for him either. “Who’s Todd Peeking?”

Her nose wrinkled up with a cringe. “I hoped you wouldn’t ask that question.” But again, channeling her inner Winnie, she lifted her head and faced her Heffalump. “He’s the new English teacher in the 600 building.” She swallowed.

Elliot puffed up his chest, dropped his hands to his sides, and tucked them both into the front pockets of his pajama pants. “Should I meet this, Todd Peeking’s?”

It was said with all the protectiveness of an older brother, and a slow smile edged toward the corner of her mouth. “No.” She shook her head. “No. You definitely should not.” Pushing past him, taking his last question as the perfect time to leave the conversation, she headed for the kitchen.

“Are you guys serious?”

There was a tightness in his voice, one that wasn’t protective, but something else.

Taking her Terminator cup from the cupboard, she filled it halfway with water, and turned around. “No,” she said honestly. “If that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

He adjusted his stance, his jaw tight, and face unreadable. “Promise?”

She swallowed hard, setting her glass back on the counter. “Yes.”

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