Page 27 of Love By the Book
Holy. Crap.
Eli Lancaster can sing. Like, really sing. His voice is rich and soulful, filling every corner of the room. Gone is the buttoned-up professor. For a moment, the entire bar is transfixed, then as Eli hits a long note perfectly, the place explodes.
Zoe still stands at the front with the rest of the group and they’re singing the backup lyrics loudly enough that they carry even without a mic.
But I’m completely fixed on Eli who loosens up as the song carries on. His eyes, which had been closed in concentration, suddenly open and lock onto mine. The intensity in his gaze nearly knocks me out of my seat.
As he belts out the chorus, the meaning of the lyrics hits me like a tidal wave. This is a song about a man who’s in love with a woman but knows she wants to go her own way. He’s saying he would give her his world if he could. Is Eli… is he trying to tell me something?
My heart races, and it’s not just with the energy in this room. It’s the realization that Ifeelsomething for him. Something real. Not crush-level, not fling-level, but gut-deep, maybe-don’t-leave-level feeling. And that’s the most terrifying feeling of all.
Eli’s voice soars on the high notes, raw emotions pouring out of him. Our club members have become his own personal hype squad, hooting and dancing when they aren’t singing. Despite the atmosphere, the words seem to hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning.
I feel like I’m seeing him for the first time. He’d explained how he has difficulty carrying conversations. Not with me, though. Now watching him pour his soul into a song at a cheesy karaoke bar has me staring slack-jawed.
As the final chords fade away, the bar erupts in cheers and applause. Eli blinks, as if coming out of a trance. A slow, shy smile spreads across his face as he takes in the crowd’s reaction. But his eyes find mine again, and in that moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the room.
Alex nudges me and gives me a knowing look that I pointedly ignore. She hops up, offering to bring me a drink. I’m not even sure if I say yes or not. As Eli makes his way back to our table, he accepts high-fives and pats on the back from other patrons. I’m still frozen in place, my mind reeling.
“So,” Eli says as he drops beside me, his knee bracketingmine. He’s slightly out of breath and flushed, his cologne stronger than ever. “A worthy enough attempt for my first performance atThe Tipsy Mermaid?”
I open my mouth, but for once in my life, I’m at a loss for words. How do I tell him he just turned my world upside down with a single song? That I just saw a side of him I didn’t know existed and I want to see it again?
“I… wow,” I finally manage with the absolute elegance you’d expect from someone who works with words for a career.Come on, Rhianna, get it together.“Eli, that was… you’re an amazing singer.”
He ducks his head which only slightly obscures the smile blooming on his face. “Thanks. I guess I felt inspired.”
Our eyes meet again, and the air between us crackles with unspoken words and possibilities. I know I should look away, should remember that I’m supposed to be his matchmaker. But right now, with Eli looking at me like that, a flush still coloring his cheeks, I can’t bring myself to care about anything else.
I’m in trouble. Big, Fleetwood Mac-Rumors-tour sized trouble. Because somewhere between the cinnamon rolls and the karaoke and the quiet, steady way he looks at me like heseesme…
I stopped pretending this was a casual crush.
I think I’m falling.
And the scariest part is that a small, reckless part of mewantsto. Even knowing how it ended last time. Even knowing what it cost.
Rhianna
The library at midnight is my personal brand of magic—quiet, cozy, and just eerie enough to keep things interesting. There's something enchanting about being alone here after hours, surrounded by all these stories just waiting to be discovered. The building creaks and groans around me like it's trying to tell its own tales while I dig through yet another stack of local books that we can’t bring out while non-magical tourists visit during our regular hours.
I've been trying to focus for the past hour, but my mind keeps drifting back to karaoke night. To Eli Lancaster channeling his inner Stevie Nicks (okay, fine, Lindsey Buckingham) and absolutely bringing down the house. Who knew Professor Buttoned-Up hadthathiding under all those pristine oxford shirts? But more than his surprisingly amazing voice, it was watching him transform on stage that got me thinking. One minute he was shy, reserved Eli, and the next... pure magic.
Which might explain why I’ve spent the last three hours down this rabbit hole of local legends and lore instead of, you know, sleeping like a normal person.
Because watching Eli at karaoke—seeing him really let go,light up, become someone unexpected—made me realize something. You can read about a person all day, hear their stories, learn the facts. But experiencing them—watching them come alive in a moment you never saw coming—is something else entirely.
And that got me thinking. How many stories are tucked away in these books, waiting for someone to see them, reallyseethem, instead of just skimming the surface? How much of history has been left gathering dust when it was meant to be felt?
Not that I've been thinking about Eli specifically. Much. Okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, it's hard not to when he sang that song while looking right at?—
"Burning the midnight oil?"
I jump approximately sixteen feet in the air, nearly baptizing my research in cold chamomile tea. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, wearing a navy sweater that makes his eyes look unfairly gorgeous. I swear I’m one accidental smile from real feelings. And that cannot happen.
"Lancaster!" My voice definitely doesn't squeak. "What are you doing here?"
He holds up an ancient-looking book bound in leather that's seen better days. "Reinforcing some of the older magical wards. I saw your light on." His eyes drift to the chaos of papers spread across my desk. "Local folklore?"
