Page 35 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

Nine

Beckham unlocked the door to his condo, his backpack trying to slide off his shoulder, and stepped inside before the bag could fall to the ground. He set it on the floor and turned off the house alarm. From somewhere behind him, Trent meowed, the sound of tiny padded feet on polished wood following.

When he turned, Trent was heading toward him from the living room. Beckham had heard how aloof cats were, but apparently Trent hadn’t gotten that memo. He greeted Beckham when he came home like a dog would. Trent curved around Beckham’s leg like he had at the shelter. Beckham crouched down to scratch the cat’s head. “Hello to you, too. Tough day at the office?”

Trent nuzzled Beckham’s palm, angling to get his ears scratched.

“Yeah, me too,” Beckham agreed. “Some jerk-off tried to mess with my friend.”

Trent looked at him with half-closed eyes as he leaned into the scratching. Beckham blew out a breath and stood—my friend. Somehowthathad happened. Inviting her to a NoPho party, agreeing to help with her detox plans, all of it brought her deeper into his life than he had planned. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself. For so long, he’d been the train wreck, the one people had to help out or deal with. The family fuckup. Knowing thatEliza, this smart, put-together therapist, was coming tohimfor help,andthat he could actually provide her with it, had been a heady rush.

Now he just hoped he could deliver.

He had no doubt Eliza would feel better and calmer going off-line. There was science out there to prove that. He also didn’t doubt that she’d be able to meet men who’d be better than what she was finding on dating apps. He could think of a number of guys who’d be at the party this weekend who were decent dudes. No, the part he was worried about was that he enjoyed the playful flirting they’d done a little too much. The images that had flitted through his head when they’d been joking about getting naked or secret fetishes had been potent and impossible to ignore. Eliza was tempting as hell, and he got the sense that under the right circumstances, she’d be into a hookup with him. There was attraction on her end, too.

But then…he’d just be another guy looking to her for a good time. He had nothing else to offer beyond that. He wasn’t in the market to be anyone’s husband, or boyfriend for that matter. He didn’t want kids. If he pursued her, he’d become exactly what she was trying to avoid. The thought that he’d be included in anywhere near the same category as that dickbag Ryan was a grim one. He didn’t want to bethatguy.

He groaned as he headed toward the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of fizzy water, and took a long swig after popping the cap off. Trent hopped onto one of the chairs by the island, staring at him.

“You’re a stalker,” he said. “You know that, right?”

Trent flicked his tail but kept staring.

Beckham held out his arms to his sides. “I can rise above this, right? It’s just attraction. Nothing special.” He leaned back against the counter, taking another swig of seltzer, wondering how he’d become someone who talked things out with his cat. “Maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve hooked up with someone. The only company I’ve had in my bed lately is you. And no offense, but you’re a pillow hog and your breath could use some work.”

Trent lifted a back leg high and ducked his head down to lick the unmentionable parts of his anatomy.

Beckham snorted. Yep, that had to be the problem. He wasn’t thinking straight because he hadn’t slept with anyone since Halloween. The holidays had shut everything down for a while, and then he’d been busy with work stuff. Maybe Eliza wasn’t the only one who could get something out of the party this weekend. Megan, one of his hacker friends, usually came to the parties. She had declared boyfriends too much work and too much of a distraction, so was often down for a casual hookup. He’d focus on that. Because at least if he was focusing on that, he wouldn’t be obsessing about Eliza.

He looked back to Trent. “Good plan, Trent. Thanks for the talk.”

Trent meowed like he understood completely.

***

Later that night, Beckham was getting out of the shower when his phone dinged. He grabbed a towel, knotting it around his waist, and walked over to the bathroom counter. A number he didn’t recognize showed on his screen.

He opened up the text.

Unknown:Analog Guru, what does one do at night if not scrolling Instagram, YouTube, or dating apps?

He smiled.Eliza.He assigned her name to the contact in his phone and then typed back.

Beckham:You’re allowed to stream TV. Or you could read. Practice a new language. Learn to make cheese. Take up the bagpipes.

Eliza:Is that what you’re doing? Bagpipes?

Beckham leaned against the counter. He should say yes. Keep it light.

Beckham:No, you caught me getting out of the shower.

There was a long pause. Three dots appeared like she was typing. Then another pause. Finally, the message popped up.

Eliza:Oops! Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.

Beckham:It’s fine. I wouldn’t have replied if I was busy. Just give me a sec. Close your eyes while I change.

She sent the emoji of the monkey with its hands over its eyes, and he laughed.

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