Not in Love by Ali Hazelwood

I followed Tiny’s indiscernible interests all over the sidewalk, feeling his leash tug determinedly at my fingers. Several neighbors were out, walking their own dogs, and they stopped often to exchange pleasantries (with Eli) and vigorous butt-sniffings (Tiny).

“Not what I had in mind when I came over,” I muttered, pulled in the direction of Tiny’s whims. Eli seemed unfazed, and never made a move to take the leash from me, not even when Tiny freed himself to chase a squirrel, forcing me to run after him in what had to be a Looney Tunes–worthy display.

“Don’t worry, I will fuck you later,” Eli murmured once I was back at his side, nodding at an elderly lady who was walking a poodle that looked eerily like her. I glanced at Tiny, then Eli. There was a resemblance there, too—the messy, curly brown hair. Was this a thing? “But since you came to me, I figured we could do things my way.”

“We always do things your way.”

“Do we?”

We didn’t, and I knew it. Since the very start, I’d been the one setting boundaries, making requests, building fences. Probably because, since the very start, I’d sensed he’d be willing to push past them. His role had been well defined: respect my wishes, follow my lead.

But after the last few days, it was obvious that he wanted a hazy, undefined more. Which was hazily, undefinedly terrifying.

“Don’t worry, Rue. I’m not going to ask you for anything scandalous, like to skate with me.” He glanced at me in tender amusement, as if I were a child who still believed in leprechauns at the end of the rainbow. “This is not a date, or anything as gross and morally perverted as that.”

And yet, it felt just as disturbing. Back at his house, he took a couple of minutes to send the files to his team, and then sat me on a stool while he prepared something with couscous and stir-fry and spicy, mouthwatering scents.

“Is this the last of your signature dishes?”

“Yup. I’m going to have to learn a few more if I want to keep luring you here.”

Do you? Are you sure you want me around? “Where is Maya?”

“Camping.”

“Doesn’t she have summer classes?”

He shook his head. “On break. Left early this morning.”

I’d come here because I couldn’t stand to be alone with my thoughts, but with the darkening sky, the rhythmic chopping sounds, the veggies sizzling in the pan, my mind drifted back to Florence. What she’d done. The way she rationalized her actions, as though a valid justification for her behavior existed. There had to have been a point, in my years of knowing her, in which she had expressed some kind of belief that hinted at her capacity for something like this. And I’d missed it.

“Relax.” Eli’s voice startled me. His large hands wrapped around my shoulders, thumbs digging firmly into the knots between my scapulae.

“I am relaxed.”

“Sure.”

“I am.”

“Rue.” Something light and warm nuzzled the crown of my head. His nose, maybe. “If you’re here to avoid thinking about it, then do so.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m not good company. I should be more . . .”

“More?”

“Engaging. Chatty. Sociable. Charming.”

He circled my stool to catch my eyes, and I fought the impulse to guide his hands back to me. “Should you?”

I shrugged, and he went back to the stove and tossed the veggies in one smooth move. My social inadequacies were old news by now, but what if Eli didn’t understand the full extent of it? What if he thought he knew me, but—

“You’re enough, Rue. And if you aren’t . . . I just don’t mind.” I stared at his back as he worked, watching his muscles play under the cotton. “I said it before, but I do like you. You’re funny, even though you like to pretend you’re not. You’re loyal—to the wrong people, sometimes, but that’s still a quality that I deeply appreciate, even more so after what happened ten years ago. You have a strong sense of what is wrong and what is right. You’re deliberate, and you’d rather shut up than lie—even to yourself.” He began plating the food. In his perfect profile, I saw a twitch of a smile. “And as we’ve already agreed upon, you’re a fantastic lay who smells amazing.”

It was my cue to laugh at his joke and dismiss the rest, but my heart was beating hard in my throat. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“You could return the compliment.”

“I should praise your sense of justice and morality?”

“Not that one.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “I guess you’re an okay lay, too,” I said flatly, and my heart galloped when he laughed from someplace deep in his chest. “You don’t resent me?”

“Why should I?”

“If it hadn’t been for what was stolen from you, I wouldn’t have this career.”

“You would still have a career.” He carried both plates to the table and waited for me to join him.

“Sure, I’d be working somewhere else. But my project was funded with something that was taken from you.”

“No, I don’t resent you for that. It looks like you are resenting yourself, though. And we agreed that tonight wasn’t about that.” Eyes still on me, Eli scooped up a forkful of food and began eating. “Did Vincent come back?”