Page 44 of Eight Steps to Alpha

“How so?” Fe prodded.

“Well—“he licked his lips”—she’s pretty, always smells good—” he turned to face her. “And she’s witty.”

Fe’s lips puckered. “Petty, don’t you think?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Wait, are we not playing the game anymore?”

“Your lie was bananas. You never eat them.” She took another shot. “But I’m curious about this. Answer the question.”

He shook his head. “It’s not just about looks, Fe. She’s really smart. She’s the best ad negotiator in the firm, which is why she’s in London right now.”

“Okay? So, she’s beautiful, successful, what else?”

He pushed himself to his knees in front of her. “Isn’t that what we all want? A beautiful, successful person to fall in love with?”

She shook her head. “No. That’s not what I want.”

He filled his glass with more alcohol and looked up. “What do you want?”

“I want someone who makes me laugh. I want someone who will carry me over puddles, and hold my hair when I puke.”

He grinned “Did you get that from a romance novel?”

“It’s not funny!” She threw a pillow at him. “And what if I did?” She rose to her knees and pushed herself off the floor. “It’s still true.”

“All my life, I’ve wanted a girl like Mary to notice me. Shoot me for trying to make a boyhood fantasy come true.”

She flexed her jaw. “Why?”

“Because—” He raked his hand through is hair but grew silent.

“Because why?” She insisted.

“Because it will mean I’ve arrived! That I’m as good as my older brother.”

She let out a breath, and he realized he’d already said too much. He pushed himself from the floor, and walked over to the kitchen to fill a glass of water. He needed it. Fe was right, not everyone could handle whiskey, and he was one of them.

But Fe was by his side before he even turned on the faucet. “You’re as good as your brother, Elliot.”

He set the glass on the counter, his eyes locked on her fingers that barely touched his arm.

“I’d choose you over your brother any day.” Her voice was wobbly, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol, or something else.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he turned toward her. ”Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“You have better hair, for one. Better eyes too.”

“Petty,” he threw her words back in her face.

She smiled. “You’re funnier.”

His eyes softened. “I’m glad you noticed.” But he moved a little closer, stopping himself just before he touched her. He opened the drawer beside the sink, pulled out the crumpled-up list that was hidden toward the back, and smoothed it out on the counter. “Ask without asking.” He looked up at her. “What does that mean?”

She leaned against the counter looking down at the list. “It means to be assertive. Know what you want, and go after it.”

He frowned. “Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

She shook her head. “Not like that.” She took the list from his hand, and placed it back on the refrigerator. “Like a kiss. You need to feel the moment, trust yourself to know the situation, and go for it.”

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