Brother?
Eliza: Well, that’s how you’re teasing me—it seems accurate.
I’m fucking sorry, but the things going through my mind the last twenty-four hours are not remotely familial.
I’m so shook.
Shook to my giant core.
The hamburger I just crammed down my gullet seems to get lodged, throat gone massively dry, and I have to chug half a bottle of water to get it down.
Brother.
What?
Is she bloody serious?
Stop cursing, Jack. It’s beneath you.
I’m sorry, but I cannot—this is…this…
The only reasonable thing to do would be to take her on a date, but I cannot do that either because that blasted roommate of hers sent me twenty messages in a single twenty-four-hour period even though I’ve clearly not been interested enough to reply.
Bloody hell. What a mess.
Eliza: You want your phone now or what? The clock is ticking.
Me: You said you were going home.
Eliza: So? That doesn’t mean I want to wait around for you. I WAIT FOR NO MAN.
Me: Calm down Gloria Steinem.
Eliza: **shrugs** I’m not wrong though.
Me: No, you’re right.
Me: Give me ten minutes and I will meet you in front of the admin building, by the statue of the guy with the pony.
Eliza: Um, that’s the founder of this university, and that is his dog.
Me: Tomato, tomahto. Ten minutes.
Eliza: See ya.
Suddenly, the sight of her standing there waiting for me is different. As I approach and she spies me walking toward her, the smile that crosses her face has an identical one crossing mine but has my stomach doing a weird…thing.
If I hadn’t just scarfed down a burger, fries, fruit, and potato chips—almost got myself a hot dog too—I would imagine I’m still hungry.
But that’s not what this is.
This is something entirely different altogether.
“Hey.” Her hand rises and she gives a cute little wave.
Cute.
That’s an understatement, but I let it pass without more thought; I have to stop overanalyzing my own thoughts about Eliza—it’s not healthy because this cannot lead to anything more.
You’re leaving.
Kaylee is her roommate.
Kaylee would probably cut Eliza’s hair off in her sleep if she knew we were seeing one another on the sly.
We haven’t snuck around.
We’re mates.
Ugh, mates—sounds just as dreadful as being akin to her brother.
Vomit.
Gag.
Ashley would have fits if he heard the putdown, and perhaps I’ll tell him because he’d get a kick out of it. Have a lark during our next video chat, and also, maybe he’ll have some advice for me, or Georgia will?
Eliza’s arm is extended, and as I get closer, I can see she’s holding my mobile in the palm of her hand. It’s outstretched facing up, almost as an offering.
Fabulous.
I reach for it. “I missed you, pal.” That makes Eliza laugh, and I pull her mobile from the back pocket of my jeans and hand it to her. “I added some sick new content. You’re welcome.”
“What does that mean?” Another laugh as she begins thumbing through her screens. “Dammit, Jack! You added a porn app!”
“Don’t tell me you don’t watch a spot of porn…”
“Yeah, but I don’t use an app for it, sheesh! I google it like all the other normal humans. Ugh!” She continues swiping, standing next to the giant, looming statue made of…of…some heavy metal. Iron?
Who cares.
“What is this?” She thrusts her mobile forward. “Is this another dating app?”
“Yes, but your account has been deactivated already. I didn’t like it.”
My nose sniffs the air disdainfully. The app was tacky and ill designed, and let’s not get started on the crop of blokes.
“Oh my god, I cannot with you.”
Shite.
If she doesn’t think that is funny, she won’t like the fifty or so selfies I took between bedtime and ten minutes ago.
Perhaps this is why she’s comparing me to a brother? These goofy little things I thought were harmless jests are also killing her lady boner for me.
Not that she had a hard-on for me to begin with, but a bloke can dream!
“Can I ask you a question?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“Of course you can.” Head bent, she’s still playing on her mobile and replying to messages. “What is it?”
“Am I in the friend section?”
“What’s the friend section?”
“You know—the friend zone.”
Eliza begins to laugh, tipping her head back and barking out a giggle so loud a few passersby look. “I’m pretty sure that term is universal—not a soul on this planet has referred to it as the friend section. Oh you are too much.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Uh…were you being serious?” She’s stuffing her mobile—the correct mobile—into the side pocket of her black book bag.
“Yes I was being serious. Why would you think I wasn’t?”
“Because, Jack, all you do is joke about everything. Plus, why on earth would I not have you in the friend section?” This is said with a roll of her eyes.
She isn’t looking me in the eye, and she doesn’t have her mobile in her hand any longer.