I don’t know what he expected from me. He chose the most ridiculous girls—and that had nothing to do with the fact that I wanted him to choose me. Okay, maybe a little, but I’m pretty sure the girl just now used the foundation color burnt orange, and had been dropped on her head way too many times as a baby.
Eli didn’t need to go for the stupid, slutty girls. He was smart, had an incredible job in advertising, wore suits most of the time because of said job, and had women of all ages turning their heads to look at him.
But I knew why he went for them more often than not . . . because the majority of them didn’t expect anything from him after that night.
We were driving out of the parking lot before he said anything. As always, his voice was calm, but his tone let me know he was anything but.
“What was that?”
“What?” I countered, and crossed my arms as I stared out the window.
“Paisley,” he growled in warning.
I huffed and turned so my back was against the door and I was facing him. “Come on, Eli, she was awful—even by your standards. You know there are girls here in Yorba Linda who actually look human.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“She had white lipstick and orange foundation. She was one bad encounter with green Jell-O powder away from being an Oompa-Loompa. Actually, you should be thanking me. If anything, I saved you from catching herpes or something.”
Eli’s lips tilted up in the corners, and when he spoke again, I knew his anger was slowly fading. “That doesn’t mean you need to make fun of her.”
You don’t need to flaunt all of them in front of me either, I thought lamely. I sighed and rested the back of my head against the window. “She didn’t notice.”
“I did.”
I stayed silent for a long time after and curled my legs up to my chest, trying to ignore the way I felt hearing his disappointment in me. Looking up when the truck stopped, I dropped my legs and cocked my head.
“Uh . . .”
He didn’t say anything as he got out and rounded the front to open my door.
“Are you not taking me home?”
“Nope.” Pulling me out of the truck, he grabbed on to my wrist and began towing me into his apartment.
“Eli,” I complained, and tried to pull back. He just grabbed me up in his arms and started jogging—like I weighed nothing at all. “Put me down!” I demanded, but I couldn’t stop laughing from the uncomfortable bouncing.
“Open.” Dropping the keys on my stomach, he quickly moved his arm back to continue holding me.
I fumbled for the keys and had to steady my breathing and focus on each key as I tried to find the correct one. It’s not like I hadn’t opened this door thousands of times, but he was breathing heavy and holding me in his arms, and about to walk me into his apartment—and I was turning into the girl he’d been with at the bar. I wasn’t sure I knew how to count to unicorn.
As soon as I had the door unlocked and opened, Eli walked us inside and kicked the door shut.
“You can put me down now,” I whispered, and he snorted.
“You changed my plans for the night, Pay, so now you have to celebrate with me.” Setting me down on the kitchen counter, he turned and grabbed a box of cupcakes and pulled two out. Gently tearing the tops off both, he handed me the tops and began unwrapping the bottoms. “And now I don’t have anyone to eat these with, so you’re up. Get ready for a sugar coma.”
My mouth had been tilting up into a smile as I’d watched him get my favorite parts of the cupcakes for me . . . but his words had just clicked, and my smile fell. Looking at the two frosted tops in my hands, I asked, “So, you’d been planning to eat these with her?”
He nodded and winked as he bit into one of the bottoms. “More or less.”
“Got it.” I nodded with him and bit down on my lip.
Part of me wanted to smash the frosting and cake into his face for not seeing what he was doing to me, for how much he was killing me . . . but the rest felt too sick to do anything. My arms dropped to my lap, and I set the tops onto the counter before sliding off it.
“Are you not going to eat them?”
Turning to look up at him, I swallowed roughly. “No, I don’t feel that great. I’m just gonna call a cab and go home. I need to get my purse out of your truck though.”
His brow furrowed. “One, when have I ever let you call a cab? Two, if you don’t feel well, I’m not letting you leave. Three . . . no.”
“Eli, it’s not a big deal. It’s not late, why don’t you go back out so you can have fun instead of spending the night with me while I’m being all lame? Find another Oompa-Loompa to bring back and share the rest of your cupcakes with, or something.”
Brushing the cake off his hands, he hooked an arm around my neck and started walking out of his kitchen. “You’re the only one who eats all the frosting for me, I’m not leaving you alone if you’re sick—”
“Eli—”
“—and you’re Oompa-Loompa enough.”
My shoulder’s sagged. “I am not orange.”
“You’re short, you’re halfway there.” With a sly grin, he pushed me toward his room. “Change, I’ll go get your purse and be right back.”
I sighed and stared at the closed bedroom door for a few seconds after I heard his footsteps retreat down the hall. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to go home and take a long bath as I tried to forget the pain of being invisible to the man I loved. Not curl up on his bed with him like we’d done hundreds of nights since we were in college. Because all that would do would make me believe I could have the life with him that I was craving.
And that just wasn’t happening.
With one hard knock before the door opened, Eli poked his head in before walking all the way inside his bedroom. His lips tilted up on one side as he walked past me to change. “You always look like such a lost little girl when you’re in my clothes.”
Crossing my arms under my chest, I dropped my head to stare down at the floor and tried to ignore the tightening in my throat. He’s not trying to hurt you. He’s not trying to hurt you . . . My stomach clenched and my chest ached from his millionth reminder that he saw me as nothing more than his best friend.
“Hey,” he crooned, and tilted my head back. “Fuck, you don’t look good at all.”
“Language.”
Eli’s expression fell. “Do you want me to get you something before we go to bed?”
I shook my head, and my lips thinned into a hard line. “I would rather go home.”
His blue eyes ran over my face, the worry in them was clear. “Not happening. Get in bed.”
Not giving me an option—and not like I thought I would get my way anyway—he flipped off the lights, pulled me over to his bed, and propped up all the pillows the way I liked and knew he hated. Crawling onto the bed, I waited until he was on the bed with me and sitting up against the pillows with his arm stretched out for me, before curling into his side as he pulled the comforter over us.
“You’re not going to be able to fall asleep like this,” I stated dully.
He turned on the TV, leaving the volume down low, and tightened his arm around me. “I’m not tired. Just feel better, Pay . . . let me know if you need anything.”