Page 52 of One More Shot
Because we are one hundred per cent, resolutely, justfriends.
There hasn’t been another charged moment like that.
No almost kisses.
No lingering glances.
No fleeting touches.
It’s like she’s placed me firmly in a box labelled ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ and there’s nothing more I want right now than to break free from it.
I want Eliott in a way I’ve never wanted someone before, and I don’t quite understand it.
I know that I’m attracted to her, that I’d love to hear her soft moans and sink myself into the warmth between her thighs again, but it feels like this goes beyond just basic attraction.
There’s another layer to it that I haven’t quite managed to figure out just yet.
‘You got any plans for tonight?’ Cash calls from behind the curtain. The too-small blazer comes flying over the railing and narrowly misses slapping me square in the face. ‘Bailey’s been invited to a restaurant launch. Pretty sure she could get you on the list with us if you want to come?’
Dining out at some of the most ridiculously expensive restaurants and bars in the city for free is one of my favourite perks of Bailey’s job and, on any other day, I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. But not tonight.
Tonight, Eliott is coming over. As afriend. I have to keep reminding myself that before I do something stupid and ruin everything.
Friends.
Just friends.
As incongruous as it sounds, I can be the type of guy who spends a chill Friday night watching terrible movies on the couch with a friend. Can’t I?
‘Gonna have to pass on that one,’ I say as Cash emerges from behind the curtain in a sleek, black tux that I know Bailey is going to absolutely lose her mind over when she sees him wearing it.
Cash gives me a sideways glance before he turns to face the mirror. ‘I feel like you’ve been really hard to pin down lately.’
That’s a fair assessment.
At some point over the last few months, there’s been a switch. My free evenings are no longer spent with Cash and Bailey or trawling through various dating apps on my phone. Any nugget of spare time I have has gone straight to Eliott without me even having to think about it.
Sometimes we’ll grab dinner, and we’ll spend hourssquashed into a booth stealing from each other’s plates and talking about anything and everything.
That’s how I discover that Eliott’s taste in music stems from spending summers in Grenada with her grandparents growing up, and she gets a special light in her eyes when she talks about the island and her memories there.
Or how, when she tries to explain something about photography and all the intricacies that come with it – things like shutter speeds and aperture and something calledchromatic aberration– she starts to talk really fast and can’t stop grinning.
I like that.
Learning which topics will make her whole face light up. I wonder if I’ll ever be one of them. If, when she talks about me, her eyes brighten and her mouth splits into the same megawatt grin the way it does when she’s talking about her grandmother’s cooking or telling me wild stories about her time at university with Sasha.
‘Just been busy,’ I say with a noncommittal shrug.
Cash glances over his shoulder and I see a flicker of understanding spark behind his eyes. ‘You’re seeing someone.’
It’s not a question.
I force out a laugh. ‘Nah. I’m not.’
Cash hums in disbelief and, once again, I can’t decide if it’s annoying or admirable just how well he knows me. ‘Are you going to use your plus one for her?’ he asks, completelyignoring my pathetic attempt at denial. ‘What’s her name? Our deadline for invitation responses is next week, and we need to add her to the name plates for dinner.’
‘I’m not seeing anyone.’ I pause and then decide to add firmly, ‘And I’m not using my plus one.’
