Page 38 of Mr. Swoony

We part, and the table turns quiet, everyone taking little glimpses of me as if I’m a guard dog they can’t stop watching to make sure I don’t attack.

“Eloise, would you like some coffee?” Jade asks.

“Let me pour you a cup.” Henry is quick to grab a mug and the pot of coffee.

“There are donuts and bagels,” Jade says.

“Hi, Eloise.” Bodhi waves at me. “We’re making potato chip cookies. Jade said they’re your favorite.” He holds up a bag of potato chips. “I get to crumble them.”

“Thank you. I do love a sweet-and-salty mix.” I meet Jade’s gaze, and we smile at one another.

“I can’t promise anything. It’s my first attempt at them.” She holds up her phone because she must be following a recipe.

“Here you go.” Henry holds a coffee mug out for me.

“Thanks, Henry.”

“You’re welcome.”

I sip the coffee, feeling all eyes on me. A chair screeches on the floor, and in my peripheral vision, I see a large body coming toward me.

This is it. Conor’s going to ask me to go and talk. Of course I’ll accept, but what is he going to say? Does he feel obligated to date me or something now? Does he regret what he did yesterday? Oh god, this is such a disaster.

“I haven’t had the pleasure yet. I’m Tweetie.” A large hand lands in front of me.

I slide my hand in his. His blond hair is chin-length and wavy. The night of my bachelorette, I never saw him up close, but I can see why he had a woman on either side of him.

“Hi. Eloise. The runaway bride.”

He laughs and squeezes my hand. “I like you. Got to laugh at yourself.” He winks and steps away. “Okay, Conor, make your move.”

Another chair screeches, and I glance over to see Conor standing and scowling at his friend and teammate. “I didn’t realize we’re in the seventh grade.”

Just the sound of his voice makes my stomach flip. Especially as I concentrate on sipping my coffee as if he’s not walking over to me.

His feet come into view, sneakers matched with jeans. “Hey.”

“Hi.” I look up and realize his eyes are the same as Kyleigh’s. Now I know where the feeling of familiarity came from the night we met.

“Can we talk?” His voice is low, as if that will keep everyone from eavesdropping.

“Yeah.”

“Front porch?”

“Sure.”

He holds out his arm, waiting for me to lead the way.

“Don’t take too long. The cookies are almost done!” Bodhi calls behind us.

“We’ll be back,” Conor says, reaching in front of me to grab the door handle and open the door for me.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I walk down the steps and sit on the third one down. Jade and Henry have rented a typical house in Chicago. Narrow but deep with three levels.

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