Page 13 of Bound To Me

You know, the guy you keep trying to push away. The hot one.

I smirked as I replied:Oh,THATElliott. Hi Hot Elliott. My first night went really well.

I’m glad. Do you want to meet for a drink?

Fuck.Don’t give in, don’t give in, don’t give in. Fuck it again. I responded:Sure, where do you suggest?I groaned out loud, garnering stares from other passengers.

A few minutes passed before he responded again:There’s a cool place near me. I’ll send you the address. Or I can pick you up if you’d like?

My heartbeat whooshed in my ears as I replied:Okay. You know where I am. See you in an hour?

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I got back to the hostel and quickly changed into jeans and my usual scoop-neck, long-sleeved bodysuit—a staple to hide my scars, which I had had in every color. I didn’t have any time to think about what I was doing. I threw on a jacket and touched up my makeup just as I got his text:I’m here.I grabbed my purse and quickly headed down the stairs, almost falling over when I saw him standing in the lobby. I thought he’d be sitting in his car, waiting for me, but I should have known he’d be a gentleman. He wore a black henley that showcased his glorious muscles, paired with jeans and “Old Skool” Vans. I was pretty sure my jaw dropped to the floor as I approached him.

“Hi,” I smiled. “Hot Elliott?” I teased.

He laughed and looked down at the floor—I was making him blush.How is that possible?

“That’s what they call me.” He shrugged, looking back up at me. “Shall we?” He gestured toward the door.

I nodded and followed him as he opened the door for me and walked us to his car parked down the street. Of course, he had a Prius; he probably recycled, gave money to charity, and fed stray cats in his neighborhood. He opened the passenger door for me and I kept repeating to myself:Do not trust him. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he’s not a monster. He got into the driver’s seat and started the car, glancing over at me with a smile before he drove off. I sensed that he was nervous. I couldn’t figure out, for the life of me, why he’d be nervous around me.

“So, Jacqueline. Not to pry, but don’t you have family around here you can stay with? Since you’re from here?” he asked as we waited at a red light.

I sighed as I looked ahead. “I don’t have family anymore,” I answered vaguely.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized.

I shook my head as I turned to smile at him. “You didn’t know. It would be safe to assume I have family here. But I was anonly child and…I lost my parents when I was young.”Why am I volunteering this information?

He quickly glanced over at me with sad eyes as he drove. “That’s rough. My dad died when I was young too. I know how traumatizing that can be.”

“I’m sorry.” I wanted to change the subject. “So, where exactly do you live, Hot Elliott?” I asked, hoping to divert the attention to him.

He was smiling now.

“I’m in Los Feliz, not very far from here.”

I nodded. I only knew of beautiful houses and good dive bars in Los Feliz.

“And why exactly are you single?” I wanted to get the hard-hitting questions out of the way.

He looked over at me with a surprised grin that quickly faded. “If you must know—I’m widowed. I lost my wife four years ago.”

My heart dropped.Oh no. “I’m…I’m so sorry.” I shook my head at myself.Okay, so maybe he’s perfect…and maybe he really is just a nice guy.My guard was starting to slowly fall to the ground.

He shook his head as well. “Yeah. So…you’re really the first woman I’ve talked to for this long since she passed.”

My mouth shot wide open. “Whyme?” I muttered.

He took a moment to respond as we pulled into a parking lot that looked familiar; I realized it was across the street from a grocery store I used to frequent.

His face grew even more serious. “I don’t know. I just felt…drawn to you for some reason. I can’t really explain it.” He shook his head at himself and I wanted to reach over and kiss him. Instead, I made a self-deprecating joke.

“Because you’re a therapist and can sense a crazy person when you see one.” I laughed.

He gave me a small smile as he turned to me. “You keep calling yourself crazy—a mess. I’m not sure if a ‘crazy mess’ could be in Los Angeles for just a few days and land a great job like you have. You’re completely self-aware, maybe even painfully so, and that must be hard for someone who seems so sensitive and smart.”

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