Page 21 of Hot Chicken

God, this man. He’s such a charmer. Was he this way with girls back in the day? Did he sweep Jennifer and countless other girls off their feet the same way?Ugh. Don’t think about them.

We head inside and spend the evening eating, dancing, laughing, and chatting about everything and nothing. There isn’t one moment of awkwardness between us. It’s as if we’ve been in each other’s lives for the last decade without missing a beat.

“So,” Matt says hesitantly, running his hand over the beautiful dark stubble covering the sharp lines of his jaw. “Elliot. How did I not know that was your given name?”

“Not sure how you missed that. Lord knows I got picked on for it back in school.” I shudder, letting thoughts of yesteryear creep in. I’m not letting that awful time ruin this perfect evening. It may only be one perfect date with a boy I idolized, but we’ve both grown, and I intend to be fully present for this dream-like experience. Because I’ll likely replay it many times in the future. “It’s Pops’s name. I’m named after both of my grandparents. Elliot Joan Albright.”

“Oh, yeah? It’s different. I like it. I’m not named after anyone.” A frown mars his beautiful features. “And my dad is a junior but wouldn’t name Harrison after him because he’s adopted.” Noticing my horrified expression, he clarifies, “We’re both adopted, but he’s the oldest, so I wouldn’t have gotten his name even if he wasn’t a jackass.”

I can’t help sitting up in my seat at this remark. “That’s awful.” I wince, regretting my outburst. I don’t want to make him feel worse. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to say. But how you arrive in your family shouldn’t matter. Just that they loved you enough to want you there.” This topic cuts a little too close to home. I probably need to change the subject. “Your ink. The symbols are Russian. Aren’t they?”

Matthew reaches up to rub the pads of his fingers along the exposed skin of his throat where the top of the multicolored domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral are drawn. “Yeah.” He smiles. “I was born there.”

“Wow. That’s so cool.” I beam.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I went through a bit of an identity crisis my senior year.” His eyes connect with mine, and I glimpse what feels like sorrow lying beneath. “Ellie, there’s no excuse. But I should’ve done more. Said something when they…” Matthew looks toward the dance floor. I never expected anyone to defend me. I admit I charged him guilty by association. But joining in with their vitriol was what really hurt.

Matthew waves to the server, signaling our evening is coming to a close. I wish it hadn’t ended on such a downer. But there’s no use pretending the past didn’t happen. “You ready to head out?”

“Sure,” I say, trying to focus on this handsome, generous man who wanted to spend the evening with me. That after all of these years, I had the date I dreamed of. And it was nearly perfect.

Matt reaches for my hand to help me stand but doesn’t let go until we reach his truck. I’m twenty-seven and still feel like a giddy schoolgirl, wondering if my hands are sweating and if he’ll offer to kiss me goodnight.

We drive to my place in silence, his thumb dusting over my knuckles along the way. If only someone like him could be mine. But he’d said he was only here until he could get his mother’s care settled. And he lit up like the lights strung for the Christmas festival when talking about his job and home in Sycamore Mountain earlier tonight. There’s no doubt I’m a temporary diversion.

We make it about halfway down my drive before Matt slows his truck to a stop. Twisting in his seat, he holds my hand a little tighter. “Ellie, I know it’s only a first date. But can I kiss you?”

First date.Will there be more?

He scoots closer to me and cups my face in his hands. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve always thought so. I’m so glad I got a second chance to finally tell you.”

What the hell?

His words strike a match. Maybe he’s more superficial than I wanted to believe. I’ve never been embarrassed about the way I look. Sure, I was short and chubby as a teen, but I didn’t have any female role models. I ate to dull the pain. The pain of losing my grandma Joan. The pain of realizing it didn’t matter if my biological mother was gone and my father was in jail because they didn’t want me anyway. The pain of enduring insults hurled by ignorant, shallow people born with a silver spoon in their mouths. People with bigger issues than mine, if they could have so much to be grateful for, yet choose to focus on degrading me.

Pulling his hands from my face, I turn to exit the truck. I don’t need to listen to these lies. He may like what I’ve turned into now. But I know he didn’t like what he saw back then.

“I have to go.”

Chapter 20

Matt

“What? Why?”

But she’s already out of the truck and walking down the dirt drive with her arms wrapped around her. There’s no chill in the air. Her posture reminds me of how she’d look after Jennifer hurled insults at her as if she was cowering in on herself.

“Wait!” I yell, chasing after her. Grabbing her arm, I pull her toward me. “What did I say?”

She rubs her arm where I’ve yanked her, and I instantly cringe. I didn’t mean to be rough, but something is clearly wrong.

“Just cut the crap, Hightower. I was there, remember? I heard it all.” She’s livid. Her face is flushed, and there’s a fire in her eyes I’ve never seen before. Hell, if it weren’t related to something I might’ve done, it’d be hot.

“Heard what?”

She rolls her eyes at me before putting her balled fists on her hips. “Jenn asking you if I was what you wanted now, mocking me as usual.”

My head drops.Why hadn’t I grown a pair and defended her? I was a self-absorbed coward.

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