Page 22 of What We Keep
I didn’t know a lot about Elsa beyond that she’d been our neighbor and then my high school crush.
“I know you’re a hard worker. You’re up here, all on your own. That counts for something.”
“Really?”
“It matters in Alaska. I bet you know all the things about the whales here.”
She pressed her lips together. “What do you know about marine biology?”
I paused, pressing my tongue in my cheek. “That you monitor migration patterns and track things.”
When she giggled, my heart squeezed tight, and it felt as if that connection between us—one I didn’t even fully understand—tightened.
“I’ll let you know how it goes, although I probably won’t know tomorrow. Who knows how many applicants they have.”
“Wouldn’t hurt you to be optimistic,” I offered, my voice low.
She rolled her eyes. “Says you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re cynical. More cynical than me, which is saying something.” Her tone was as dry as ash, with an eye roll to boot.
My laugh came out unexpectedly as I shook my head. “Okay, fair point. Also, you don’t have to report to me about your schedule. Or to any of us.”
She rested her hand on her hip again. “I don’t want to keep arguing with you about this. I need to help. It’s important. I have to contribute something, and I like painting.”
“I know. But if you didn’t do it, it would be okay.”
She held my gaze long enough that every cell in my body fired before she turned away and began rolling paint on the wall. I had to force my feet to leave the room when all I wanted to do was linger and watch Elsa paint. But that wasn’t rational. She was a distraction. A delectable distraction.
That night, I walked through the darkness, listening to the rustle of the wind in the trees, an owl calling into the night with another answering. When I walked upstairs, Elsa was sitting on the couch. Her hair was up in another messy bun, and she was wearing sweatpants and a tank top. When she smiled at me, it was impossible not to smile back.
“Hey.” Her voice was warm.
Just one word was enough to amp up the anticipation humming in my veins.
“Hey.” My voice came out gruff, and I resisted the urge to clear my throat.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m watching TV.” She gestured toward the screen.
“Of course. You live here.”
Elsa tipped her head to the side. “I’m staying here.”
I didn’t know why, but her insistence on making that distinction elicited a wave of protectiveness. “You live here,” I repeated. “Why do you insist on saying you’re just staying here?”
I left my boots by the door and hung up my jacket, a sense of trepidation sliding through me as I crossed the room. My draw to her was so strong, I wanted to sit down on the couch beside her and curl my arm around her shoulders.
And what, dude? Are you pretending to play house here?
I forced myself to take the chair instead, keeping a little distance from her.
Elsa studied me for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. I guess... well, I’ve only been here two nights, so it feels temporary. Honestly, everything has felt temporary since we moved away.”
I wanted to tell her that she belonged here, that she was home. But I kept my mouth shut, even as I felt that truth settle deep inside me.
Elsa shrugged, and I tried not to notice her shoulders. Fuck me, even her shoulders were cute. There was a dusting of freckles on them, and I wanted to count them. I wanted to find every freckle on her curvy body. Instead, I forced myself to look away. “What are you watching?”
