Page 2 of Ellie Hayes and the Himbos
Granted, some of my awe wears off when his jaw slackens—dumb confusion isn’t a good look for anyone—and I wave. Hisbrow furrows, and it’s another few seconds of silent observation before he takes in a breath, holds it, then lets it out on a thoughtful “Huh.” He extends a socked foot to nudge the guy playing the video game, who turns to face him. The pretty one bugs his eyes insistently, pointing toward me, and gamer boy finally looks my way.
“I already said—ohmigoodness!” He heaves himself forward to stand, and the tiny chair rises with him, the armrests gripping his backside. He staggers forward in a crouch, reaching back to free himself from the lawn chair with a high, self-conscious giggle.
“That chair isverysmall,” he says, and rises. We’re the same height in my heels, and he’s built like a compact linebacker, his barrel chest rising and falling in quick, panicked breaths. “I am Diego!” he announces in a shout that has me flinching. He frowns, then gasps. “Oh!” He tears the headset from his head, sending askew the blush-pink scrunchie partly restraining his curls. A few coils spring loose, and he smooths them back, heedless of his controller and headset.
“I am Diego,” he repeats. His volume is normal this time, but his chest is still heaving like he’s come in from a run. “So sorry for my rudeness. I didn’t know you would be…” The hand still bearing the headset extends toward me, making a vague, circle shape. But whether he’s indicating my gender, the ten-plus years I have on him, or the plunging neckline of the halter dress I selected when the evening’s direction had promised champagne and not sudden singledom, I don’t know.
He glares at Grant. “This is not aroommate!” he insists. “This is a pretty lady!You…” He returns to me. “Youare a pretty lady.”
It comes out more as an accusation than a compliment, whichis good; given the overwhelming suck of the past five days, a compliment from this puppy probably would have made me cry.
I smile. I think I like Diego. “I’m Ellie.”
“Ellie,”he repeats, like my name is the key to resetting his expectations. Apparently, it is, because his face lights up with a smile so large, his cheeks threaten to overwhelm his eyes. “Okay! Nice to meet you,Ellie!”
The pretty one continues to observe from his spot in the lawn chair. “And you want to livehere?” he asks.
While I can’t rightly say thatwanthas anything to do with my current situation, I’m also not inclined to lay out that my boyfriend proposed “a break” while I wait to find out if my body has decided to turn on my nervous system, and that, frankly, I’d rather set myself on fire than spend another evening under the same roof as him. So I nod.
He considers this. Then shrugs. “Aight.” He gets back to his phone.
“That’s Alistair,” Diego explains. “He just got back from a shoot.He’s a model,” he adds, conspiratorially. I nod. Of course he is.
“So it’s the three of you? No girlfriends or…” I stop myself shy of sayingactual adults?
“Nope,” says Grant. “Just us. Though my brother was here for a while. He had the back room while his place was getting remodeled.” He chuckles. “Ian wassoready to get out of here.”
Looking around at a living room that appears to have been furnished with the contents of the lost and found of a public pool, I don’t doubt it. Good for him.
“Is the back room the one that’s available?” I ask.
Grant’s brow wrinkles, then relaxes. “Oh, yeah! Do you want to see it?”
“It’s what I’m here for,” I remind him.
Grant brays out a laugh. “Right! Cool. Let’s—”
A vibration picks up in my purse. My chest squeezes uncomfortably, but my lips twitch into a smirk. Took him long enough. I’d already ignored theYou okay?I received while waiting for my ride, and Cole’sEllie???had arrived as I’d messaged Grant about looking at the room.
Three pairs of eyes dart to the clutch humming at my side, then back to me. The only other sounds in the room are the tinny gunfire drifting from Diego’s headset and the incessant rock of the ceiling fan.
The phone stops, and the tension in my chest releases some.
“The room—” I start, and the buzzing picks up again, rattling against my hip. The guys cock their heads in tandem, a chorus line of curiosity. I sigh.
“Excuse me.” I fish my phone from my purse. Filling the screen is the familiar, handsome face of my abruptly, emphaticallyex-boyfriend, Cole’s too-pretty lips captured in a smile. It’s a far cry from how I’d left him at the restaurant, eyes rounded in shock, my “Go fuck yourself” hanging in the air over our cozy two-top. His mouth had still been open when I excused myself from the table, which in retrospect I regret doing. He’d just dumped me in a public setting, thank you very much. He didn’t deserve politesse. I’ll have to consider that a moral victory.
I glare at the image, a sliver of hurt intruding on my anger. We were supposed to be celebrating. Even if today’s MRI results were more of a semicolon than the period I was hoping for, I washappy. I got dressed up; I’m wearing boob tape, dammit! We’d been on a downward trajectory for months; what was another night of willful ignorance? But before we could even order, Cole announced that he was “just not strong enough for this, too.”
The memory of thattoocuts deeply enough that I wince. I swipe the screen to find the option to block his number.
“Ellie!” Cole’s voice explodes from the receiver.
I swear under my breath.Damn stiletto tips.I’m constantly flubbing on my phone because of my nails, but I just can’t give them up.
“Where are you?” he continues.
I frown. He doesn’t sound mad or worried, more… exasperated. Which is annoying. I’d like to think that one’s long-term partner’s sudden disappearance from a dinner together would register as more than an inconvenience. At least when that long-term partner isme.
