Elevator Pitch (Hapless In Love #1)

71. Body Language

71

body language

Selah

Manhattan, NY | April 30, 2024

It’s been an awful few days, with the exception of the wedding. When we made it to our room that night, the air was charged. As soon as he locked that door, all bets were off. Everything was in the way, and we couldn’t get our clothes off fast enough. When he kissed me, his lips set me on fire. His touch was gentle and lingering, which was another painful reminder of our expiration date. We made love that night. It was yearnful, hungry, and devastating—the kind I’ve read about in books that makes you sob uncontrollably. I couldn’t hide my tears since he wouldn’t take his eyes off me. Then held me through the night like if he let go, I’d disappear. I held on for the morning to clear the air.

Sunday wasn’t my day of reckoning like I hoped. I tried to tell him how I felt again that morning, but he was firm that he wanted to play pretend until we got home. I didn’t blame him for avoiding the conversation because the state of bliss felt far better than baring my soul. The ride was full of excruciating silence, but he didn’t let go of my hand until we got back to our building. We held on until the very last second. It was a goodbye that left me nauseous and drained. I got to my apartment, put my phone on DND, and hid under the covers. I cried myself to sleep and only woke up to call in sick before I was out again. I lost track of time and didn’t tell my friends I made it back safely. I was awakened by Audrey bursting through the door with Eric, Daya and Chess.

Friendly reminder: If you go MIA, your friends who have a key to your apartment will let themselves in, force you to shower, eat, and take your meds.

My thirtieth birthday is next week, and I’m not even looking forward to celebrating. Greyson has become a significant part of my life in so little time, and it’s agonizing that he’s unaware. He’s unaware of how much I miss his smile and laugh. Or the warmth of his hand. He’s unaware that he sends my anxiety running with its tail between its legs as if there’s no room for that when he’s present. He’s unaware that my insecurities melt away underneath his gaze. He’s unaware that when he’s in a room with me, no one else exists. My life without Grey is lackluster, and he doesn’t even know it.

In our time apart, anxious thoughts have run rampant, and every time I pick up my phone, I can’t follow through. I’ve done cowardly things like knocking before leaving lunch outside his door and hiding instead of facing him. He’s been working from home every day since the last time we did it together.

I know what I need to do, and thanks to Dr. Garnett, I’m more prepared than before. I’m going to tell him today, and he doesn’t have to respond but it might be easier if he doesn’t.

Greyson is honestly perfect, and it’s irritating. This man has my fuck it list memorized. That’s important since I don’t. He read several romance novels to specifically find a scene that could be recreated and paired it with another task we already had planned. Then creatively found more things to tack on to help me complete my list. He’s so supportive of me accomplishing my goals, even the silly ones, and that only motivates me more.

I’m such a hypocrite, and it’s making me sick to my stomach. It was my rule for us to be honest with each other during this arrangement, and here I am, holding my tongue about being in love when I want to scream about it. I never disliked Greyson. He makes it awfully hard to.

He was himself from day one. His kind eyes, disarming smile, and sheer audacity. I chuckle to myself when a tear escapes me. I’m sure he sensed I didn’t want to be bothered that night, but he managed to do it in a way that didn’t make me feel bothered at all. Still, I was wary of him and kept our conversations short, which only led to him seeking more things to discuss with me. No matter how unapproachable I made myself, he wasn’t deterred.

Then, when he walked up to me in that coffee shop, his familiar face silenced every blaring alarm in my mind. He hadn’t known, but my anxiety was high that morning, and his presence calmed me. Then when he came back and turned it into a standing meeting, it made me feel cared for. He’s always succeeded at making me feel that way. My thoughts are interrupted when my calendar reminds me that my workday ends in ten minutes.

I start wrapping up when Greyson crosses my mind again. As much as he’s handed me his phone with the app open to change a song or introduce him to an artist, I haven’t paid much attention to his music taste aside from his record collection. I realized I’ve never looked at his Kiwi Music profile and I’m desperate to feel connected to him in some way.

I don’t know what his username is, so I enter his number to locate his account in our system. He appears in the search results under the username greypark . His profile photo is a picture of Clifford as a puppy and my heart squeezes. I tap his profile and scroll through his created playlists, which are standard themes, like shower mix, nineties hip-hop, morning commute, etc. I peek through some of them and I’m impressed.

I keep scrolling through his account when the title of a playlist stands out to me: Body Language . I’m hesitant to look through it because I assume it’s a sexy playlist filled with songs he’s played for other women. I suppose I’d rather hurt my own feelings since my cursor is hovering right over the playlist. Suddenly, my alarm sings as a reminder to log off and startles me, causing me to jump. I should take that as a sign to stop being nosy, but I don’t. I take a deep breath and brace myself to see what songs Greyson likes to play in the bedroom. I close my eyes and click on it anyway, nervous about what I may see. I slowly open my eyes, and to my surprise, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My breath catches and I cover my mouth in awe as I take in the songs on this playlist. These songs don’t have anything to do with him, but they are very familiar to me. So familiar that I have them tattooed on me. And since one is dedicated to an entire album, that’s here as well. Tears stream down my face as I sit and stare at the screen. He was asking about them for months and I wondered why. He never mentioned the music after the fact, so I assumed he didn’t listen to it. I select the info tab to find the date he created this out of curiosity . September 26, 2023 . I pull out my phone and check my notes app to see if I documented anything from September twenty-sixth last year, and I did.

September 26, 2023

I went to the coffee shop today. Week three. Anxiety was through the roof, and this shit isn’t getting easier. I wanted to give up and go back home. I would’ve, but Greyson walked up to my table and asked to join me. I’m certain he was late for work because he sat with me for about forty-five minutes. He observed me while I worked, and I didn’t mind it. I didn’t mind him. He noticed my hand tattoos and asked about them. “I’ll give them all my attention. Trust me.” I went home around lunch, and while I had help today, I did it. He says he’ll join me next Tuesday and I really hope he does.

I consider sending him my journal entry on this day to break the ice, but I’m shaking.

WWAD?

She’d speak up no matter what, and that’s what I need to do.

Here goes nothing.