Page 2 of Fun Together (Make Romance #1)

Faye

I blink, thinking he’ll go away.Nope, still there.

“Eli? What are you doing here?” And why was he clearly expecting to see me?

“I just started working here this week,” he says, in a tone that insinuates I should know this bit of information. Why didn’t Andrew mention that not only had Eli moved back, but that he got a job where I work?That news seems way more important than what’s currently stocked at Trader Joe’s.

“I had no idea. When did you get back?”

“About four months ago. Maybe five?” He reaches up to scratch the underside of his jaw. “Time flies.”

The last time I saw him was graduation night five years ago.

Andrew, Eli, and I had gone out to celebrate and I stayed over at their place like I always did after a night out.

I woke up in the middle of the night dying of thirst and stumbled down the stairs to find Eli sitting alone at the kitchen table eating Oreos.

I wonder if he’s also remembering that night spent talking about our plans.

I was starting an internship at the very same company I’m currently working at.

He was off to New York City the next day with no job or permanent place to live lined up.

His leaving felt a little sudden, even for him, but I chalked it up to Eli being Eli.

He asked me if I would come visit him and I was taken aback, not because of the question, but the way he asked it.

Like he was holding his breath for my answer.

It hit me then, that he was really leaving.

It wasn’t some kind of whim, and these late-night conversations that had become commonplace for us were never going to happen again.

Then he hugged me in a way that felt like goodbye, and our three-person unit was down to two.

We were moving on and transitioning into the next phase of our lives.

Andrew visited him several times, but I never did.

I’m not sure why, other than this instinctive need I have to protect myself from some future disappointment.

Eventually, we’d probably all stop visiting each other altogether, so why prolong the inevitable?

“It really does,” I say, looking up to watch the floor numbers tick down as we descend.

At first, I think he looks exactly the way he did that night.

He still has the same tall, athletic build.

The same light brown hair curling over his ears, like he’s always in need of a haircut.

An ease of movement, like there’s no place he doesn’t belong, whether he’s leaned back in a rickety dining chair eating cookies at four a.m. or waltzing into this elevator and completely throwing everything off balance.

Do I look the same to him too? Or is he also realizing, like me, that so much has changed since then.

I see now that the boyish charm he always had in college has been replaced with something more mature, almost rugged.

His skin is tan—like he’s spent the whole summer outside—and what was formerly a baby face now has a bearded jawline.

And when he reaches up to adjust the strap of his backpack, I notice his right arm is sprinkled with tattoos down to his wrist.Those are new.

“How have you been?” he asks.

Now there’s a loaded question. “I’ve been good. Are you happy to be back?”

“Yeah, it’s good to be home. I’ve missed everyone.” He smiles then, and as if recalling a fond memory. “I’ve missed the food, mostly. First thing I did when I landed was go to Bojangles for a chicken biscuit.”

The elevator dings our arrival on the ground floor, and we step out to walk toward the exit to see the security guard, Tom, always sitting sentry at the building’s entrance.

Tom has been the security guard in this building for over twenty years.

He has one of the most impressive thick white mustaches I’ve ever seen, and he eats a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch every single day.

“Miss Faye, what are you still doing here?” he asks as we approach.

“You know the hustle never sleeps, Tom.”

He gives a good-natured chuckle. “Well, since you are here, FedEx just dropped this off for Alexis. He holds up a small rectangular box. “Should I keep it locked up this weekend for her to collect on Monday?”

I can’t help but smile at his diplomatic way of asking me to please take the cursed package off his hands, so he doesn’t have to deal with Alexis on Monday.

“No, don’t worry about it. She asked me to grab it for her.”

He looks relieved as he hands it to me. “Have a good weekend and try to stay out of trouble.”

I place the package in my tote bag. “You know I can’t make any promises.

” Tom and I do this same song and dance every week, where he makes a joke about being on my best behavior during the weekend, and then I come in on Monday morning and say I did something super wild like try a new coffee creamer.

I notice that Eli is watching our exchange with amusement. “Tom, this is Eli.”

Eli reaches out to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Tom. I hope you’re able to get out of here soon, too?”

“I’ve got about an hour left on the clock. Then I’m going fishing with my granddaughter this evening.”

“It’s a perfect day for it. Where do you fish?” Eli asks.

I guess Eli’s gift of gab is something that hasn’t gone away. They go back and forth for a few minutes until I decide to put an end to the bonding session when they start talking about whether nightcrawlers or something called a Texas rig makes the best bait.

“Alright Tom, we’ll let you back to it.” I start walking to the exit door and Eli follows me. “See you on Monday!”

We walk in silence for a few seconds as we make our way across the breezeway that leads to the parking deck. The sun feels good on my skin, thawing me out after freezing inside all day.

Eli playfully elbows my arm. “What kind of trouble are you getting into this weekend?”

“Let’s see. I’m currently in the middle of a very riveting Survivor re-watch.”

We reach the parking deck’s elevator and step inside. “What floor?” he asks.

I rack my brain trying to remember where I parked that morning. “Um, five.”

He reaches across to press the five button, and the sleeve of his white T-shirt moves up so that I can see where his tattoos continue up his arm.

There doesn’t seem to be a particular pattern or theme to them, more like random images scattered across his skin in simple black line work.

The look suits him, and I wonder if they extend up to his shoulders and back.

“What season are you on?”

“Hmm?” My face heats, realizing I’ve just been staring at his arm.

“Your re-watch. What season?”

“Oh. Twenty, I think?” Saying it out loud makes that too real. Twenty seasons of Survivor watched in a six-month period has surely landed me on some kind of watchlist.

He smiles down at me, bright and genuine, and things go topsy turvy. “That’s a lot of tribal councils.”

Eli has smiled at me countless times before and I never reacted this way. Between that, the tattoos, and this new facial hair he’s sporting, I suddenly feel unsettled.

When did Eli get so hot?

I’m so relieved when we arrive on the fifth floor that I scramble out of the confined space so fast that my bag slides off my shoulder and hits the concrete with a thunk.

And then it begins to vibrate.

I look at Eli as if he can provide some explanation, but all he does is raise his eyebrows.

The bag starts to pulse, like a steady heartbeat beneath the canvas cloth. I rush to pick it up and feel that the vibrating is coming from Alexis’s package.

“Have you ever shopped at a Sharper Image?” I ask him, trying to remember the last time I even saw a Sharper Image store. But I think I know what this is, and I really want to be wrong.

“Isn’t it an electronics store?”

I hold it up and let the bzzt-bzzt-bzzt fill the silence.

He bounces his head to the beat. “It’s got a nice rhythm to it.”

We look at each other for a couple of seconds, both on the verge of laughter. “What do I do?”

“Let’s open it,” he says, like it’s a treasure we’ve found that he can’t wait to get his hands on.

A silver ring on his right index finger catches the afternoon light as I hand him the package. Our fingers briefly brush against each other before he pulls his keys out of his pocket and uses one of them to cut the tape along the top of the box.

“Please tell me it’s not what I think it is,” I say.

He peeks inside and says in an impersonation of a QVC salesperson, “Today, we’ve got a lovely personal massager for you folks at home.” He places the box up on his palm, on full display, eyes glowing with playful mischief. “Boasting dual motors and a waterproof silicone design.”

I snatch the box out of his hands. “Please stop.” The packaging has a clear plastic front, so the vibrator is clearly visible, hot pink silicone resting snugly against its black velvet backing.

“My boss really just gave me a vibrator to test over the weekend.” I didn’t realize I’d said this out loud until he laughs.

“What do you mean you’re testing it?”

At this rate, I will never have to purchase blush ever again. “Sometimes she gets me to test things for company gift ideas.”

“Is she planning on handing out vibrators like other companies give out water bottles? Will they be company branded?”

“This isn’t funny.” It’s extremely funny, and I can’t help but smile up at him. “I should pretend I didn’t get this, right?”

He tsks and shakes his head. “I don’t know . . . Tom and I are witnesses.”

“I know Tom would vouch for me. You wouldn’t keep a secret for me?”

“Faye, you know I’d take a bullet for you.” He pauses to allow the vibrator joke to land. “But as a new member of the HR team, I don’t know if I could be involved in your deception.” He grabs the box back out of my hand. “In fact, I think I need to take this as evidence.”

I reach for the box, and he dangles it out of my reach.

We’re both fully cracking up now, because the way I’m flailing to take it back from him is hysterical.

I stop trying when his words register. “Wait, you work in HR?” I don’t see him as the kind of guy who enforces company policies. If anything, he’d break them.

“Well, technically recruiting, but it’s under that umbrella.”

I nod, impressed. “That’s great.” The box is still buzzing away in his hand. “We need to turn that thing off.”

“Oh yeah, wouldn’t want it to run out of juice. Although . . .” He stops to read the back of the box. “It does operate up to four hours on a full charge.”

“Stop making me laugh about this. It’s mortifying.”

He hands it back to me. “Look on the bright side. Your weekend just got more interesting.”

I wedge my fingers into the package and feel for the off switch, refusing to pull the vibrator out right here in front of him.

It’s now that I notice the only car parked on this level is my lone Honda Accord, and his car is nowhere to be seen. “Where is your car?”

“Oh, I parked on the fourth floor.”

“Why didn’t you get off there?”

“Because we were talking.” He says this as if it’s obvious, like we were chatting about the most important thing in the world and not my pathetic weekend plans. “And then I couldn’t leave a lady distressed over her vibrating box.”

I bite my lip to keep him from getting the satisfaction of getting another laugh out of me. “It isn’t my box.”

“Mm-hmm.” He walks with me to my car. “Why didn’t you leave early like everyone else?”

I nod down to my bag in answer.

“That’s why you were working so late?”

That, and avoiding my life, apparently. “It’s complicated, but yes. What were you still doing here?”

“Trying to get a jump on things. Had a riveting orientation video about workplace safety to watch.”

I open my car door and toss my tote bag into the passenger seat. “Just wait until you get to the data security portion.”

He gives me another smile that makes my breathing do a weird thing that has nothing with coffee overconsumption, and everything to do with something surprising sparking in my chest. “It’s good to see you, Faye.” He turns to walk toward the stairs and waves to me. “Good luck on your testing!”

I wave back and get into my car, immediately resting my forehead against the steering wheel. My heart is pounding, mind racing to process the last thirty minutes. Was he just flirting with me? Was I flirting back? I attempt to ignore the butterflies emerging from dormancy in my stomach.

Really? You wake up for the first time in months, and it’s for Andrew’s best friend?

Almost as if I’ve summoned him with my traitorous thoughts, my phone buzzes with a text from Andrew.

I can come by later if that’s too early.

In all the commotion, I forgot he had even texted me.

I text back, 10 works. See you then.