Page 37 of Fun Together (Make Romance #1)

Eli

“I see the driveway still isn’t fixed yet,” Faye says as she’s unable to avoid hitting a big hole where the gravel needs to be filled in. She sighs. “I called someone last week about it.”

I grab the grocery bags from the trunk before we walk inside, screen door squeaking closed behind us to announce our arrival.

“That you, Bambi?” her grandpa yells from inside the house.

“It’s me!” Faye shouts. “You can put those bags on the counter,” she says to me.

We walk into a kitchen that reminds me so much of my grandma’s—the same stale coffee smell with a hint of cigarette smoke. I set the grocery bags down next to a pile of mail. “Bambi?” I ask Faye.

“He calls me that,” she says with zero enthusiasm.

“That’s adorable. Can I call you that too?”

She shakes her head. “Hell no.”

We walk further into the house into a living room that looks like it hasn’t changed in decades. The only modern-looking item in the room is a sixty-inch television in the corner. Her grandpa is sitting in a recliner positioned right in front of it.

“I brought a friend,” she says, giving her grandpa a hug.

“A friend? Didn’t know you had one of those.”

“Funny,” Faye says, gesturing to me. “This is Eli.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I say, going over with my hand extended.

He gives my hand a firm shake. “You like movies, Eli?”

I join Faye on the love seat. “Sure, I love movies.”

“This is one of my favorites,” he points at the screen. I see Cillian Murphy walking through deserted London streets in a pair of teal scrubs.

“Is this 28 Days Later ?”

He seems impressed that I know it. “I like to nap to it.”

This man naps to zombie apocalypse movies? That explains Faye’s comfort movie of choice. I turn to her and lean in so that only she can hear me. “So much about you makes sense to me now.”

She tries not to smile. “All those empty streets? Nice and quiet.”

“I was admiring your truck when we pulled in. My brother has one just like it.”

“Oh yeah?” He perks up. “Had it forever. Still runs pretty good.”

“Yeah, Emmett fixed his up a few years ago. I’d love to find one to do the same.” I’ve always wanted a project like that—something I can fix with my own two hands.

“I’ll keep an eye out. There’s always somebody selling one around here. One of my buddies I see at Roy’s fixes up trucks and resells ‘em.”

“I thought you were scaling back on Roy’s,” Faye says.

“It’s my watering hole, girl. I can’t just stop going.”

“What is Roy’s?” I ask.

“It’s a restaurant, if you want to call it that,” Faye says.

I think I understand the dynamic she has with her grandpa. She tries to take care of him, and he stubbornly refuses.

I look around the living room and there are a few photos on the wall. I see a school picture of a girl that has to be Faye, smiling a big, gap-toothed grin in a neon green shirt.

There’s another photo of what looks like a much younger version of her grandpa with a pretty brunette woman. I wonder if that’s Faye’s mom.

Faye must catch me looking. “That photo is so embarrassing. I had grape jelly all down the front of my shirt.”

“That just makes it more genuine. You were a kid who ate a PB and J that day. I love that.”

“That’s my grandpa and my mom in that other picture. Before grandpa lost all his hair,” she says a little louder in his direction.

“You look like her.”

She nods and hums in agreement as she stands up. “Hey Gramps, why don’t we show Eli your garden,” Faye suggests, smoothly steering our conversation in another direction.

We head outside to the backyard, where a small garden sits along the chain-link fence that marks edge of the property. It’s overgrown, so I’m guessing it doesn’t get a ton of upkeep.

Her grandpa walks over to one of the plants. I can’t tell whether it’s a vegetable or a weed. “It’s gotten a little leggy with all this rain we’ve had.”

“What do you have in here?” I ask him.

“Tomatoes when the bugs don’t get ‘em, cucumbers, carrots, some potatoes.”

“Nothing like a fresh tomato from the garden,” I say, and I hear Faye snicker.

“Bambi hates the garden,” her grandpa says, brushing her off.

“I don’t hate it.” Faye bends down to pluck a tomato from the vine. “It’s just a little much for you to take care of.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” her grandpa says.

Faye just looks at me and shakes her head in a way that signals her surrender to her grandpa’s stubbornness. I get the sense this is an argument they’ve had plenty of times before, and Faye has lost it each time. It’s becoming clear where Faye gets her reluctance to accept help from.

“You want to take some of this with you, Eli?” he asks me.

I look at him and then I look at Faye, silently asking her permission. She smiles. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I’d love to.”

He goes inside and brings out a grocery bag. “Here you go, have at it.”

About twenty minutes later, my plastic bag is full of tomatoes and cucumbers, and I get into Faye’s car for the drive back.

“I think he liked me.”

I expect her to playfully disagree or say something vague in response, but she says, “Yeah, I think he did. No small feat. As you can tell, he’s a little prickly.”

That makes me feel like I’ve won the fucking lottery.

“I don’t mind prickly. I’m glad I got to meet him.” As we pull out of the driveway I notice the hole again. “Want me to help fill that some time? I can borrow a shovel from my brother if your grandpa doesn’t have one.”

“Sure, that would be a huge help.”

This also makes me feel like I’ve accomplished a great feat. Faye is accepting my help without asking what she can do for me in return.

Now’s my chance to bring up the job. But we just had a great afternoon together and I don’t want to ruin the mood. Maybe I can find a chance to mention it before the party tomorrow.