The Last Thing She Wants (Chestnut Hills #1)

22

ellie

Oh boy, oh boy. I paced my living room as I waited for Daisy to pick up the videocall. Daisy’s fresh face came into view after three long rings. Clay smudged her cheek and hairline.

“Ellie!” she shrieked in excitement, even though we had just had a sleepover the past weekend. Her tone shifted at noticing my frantic movement. “Ellie…what happened? Hey, you’re wearing the pink outfit again!”

As I glanced downwards, it suddenly struck me what I had chosen to wear today. A flood of memories from the last time I donned this cursed outfit clashed in my head. With a face of horror, I loudly gasped. “This outfit is cursed Daisy Bloom, cursed I tell you!”

“Whoa, did something happen? Was it Graham?”

“Theo.” I answered, cringing at the fact that I hadn’t kept Daisy up to date on the acts that transpired between us.

“Continue, dear friend.” Daisy wound her finger expectantly.

“I kissed him. I’m so stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. Clearly, I wasn’t. Oh god, Daisy, you should have seen it. It was an absolute mess, like two teenagers kissing for the first time, but in the pitch dark. Like we’d been locked in a room for Seven Minutes in Heaven, but we didn’t know what that actually meant.”

Daisy recognized the crazy look in my eyes and paused a moment, creating space for silence before responding.

“That is…quite the visual. I imagined the two of you together would have been really steamy. Color me disappointed.”

“Daisy!” I slapped a hand to my forehead, walking into my room. A soft thud sounded as I dramatically collapsed onto my bed.

“Okay, okay. Start from the beginning. Why did you kiss him?”

“Well, we were walking to the gym and guess who works in the leasing office now?” I sucked my teeth and with bitterness, said the college girl’s name, “Lucy.”

“Lucy, like Lucy, who bet she could sleep with Professor Hottie?” Daisy gasped in shock as I nodded in validation.

“Exactly. Not to mention the same Lucy that wrote that inappropriate story about him. Before I knew it, I saw red. I practically charged at her. I yelled at her and called her a crazy stalker. I mean, this is stalker level shit, right? I’m not making that up?”

“Not at all! It’s bat shit.”

“Then, I just thought…I don’t know. I thought that Theo and I had been having moments, so it was bound to happen, eventually. I figured if I could make it clear to Lucy, like put it in big neon lights that she can’t have him…then I should just kiss him.”

“Okay…lost you there. I don’t understand how you got from A to B, but I’ll humor you.” Daisy paused thoughtfully for a second. “What do you mean you’ve been having moments?”

“Ugh, never mind. It doesn’t mat-” a sharp knock cut me off mid-sentence. I slid off the bed like a worm and crawled on all fours towards the door. “Someone’s at the door. I think it’s him,” I whispered.

Daisy pulled the phone close up to her face, her nostrils filling the screen. “Are you on the floor?”

“Shhh,” stealthily, I looked through the peephole where Theo was waiting patiently. Sweat glistened on his face, and droplets wetted his shirt, making it cling to his skin. Don’t think about his eight-pack, Ellie.

My heart dropped straight through my ass and I immediately slinked back down.

“Ellie, you’re a twenty-eight-year-old woman, for heaven’s sake. Get up, have some dignity!” Daisy yelled, apparently loudly enough for the hunk in the hallway to hear.

“I know you’re in there. I can hear you, Ellie.” He was now speaking through the door. This was all too much. My best friend scolding me and my…my Theo…cornering me. I decided no, no way in hell was I dealing with that.

Cutting Daisy off, I ended the video call pretending to go through a tunnel. Which, of course, didn’t work because I was on a video and clearly not in a tunnel.

Fora little while longer, I laid on the floor. Finally, I waited Theo out; I let out a sharp huff of relief at the sound of his apartment door closing. My screen lit, notifying me of yet another missed call from Daisy. I knew I had to decide what I wanted Theo and me to be. It wasn’t fair dragging him on.

Logically, I knew the risks. He had become a really good friend. Dare I say, a best friend. He was confidant, someone I shared secrets with without fear of judgement, someone I counted on. Wasn’t that what a partner was meant to be, after all? Yes, it was, but that meant that should everything go tits up, as it usually seemed to do, I would stand to lose it all .

Peeking over my shoulder, I eyed the fresh flowers I picked up from the grocery store. Mustering all my energy, I crawled over and pulled out a daisy. Plucking one petal out at a time, I recited this is a great idea, this is a terrible idea, this is a great idea, this is a terrible idea. Landing on the last petal, I hesitantly stated, this is a great idea.

Pfft, best do two out of three to be sure.

Fifteen minutes and seven de-petaled daisies later, every single one declared that we, Theo and I, were a great idea.

Deciding to leave it up to science, I did a quick internet search for a compatibility quiz. Maybe it didn’t seem that ProLovers.Com was that official, but these were desperate times.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10 HOW SIMILAR ARE YOUR INTERESTS?

Thinking for a moment, reflecting on our gym nights, love for nature and baking shows, I slid the bar to eight. I had to be objective about this after all; couldn’t jump out the gate handing out “tens” like Oprah.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10 HOW COMFORTABLE ARE YOU WITH EACHOTHER?

Easily, I slid the bar to ten. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10 HOW MUCH DO YOU LIKE EACHOTHER?

I loudly groaned. I knew the answer. The trees, the grass, the surrounding air, and my vibrator knew the answer. I slid the bar to ten; it looked like I just might be Oprah myself.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10 HOW IS THE INTAMICY BETWEEN YOU?

I chuckled to myself and thought I should ask my vibrator about this particular question. There was no denying our spark; the way my core immediately heated when he scanned my body, the way I salivated at his flexed forearms, the way our lips danced, coaxing primal sounds from deep within us. Shuddering at the memory of the way he made me come with just his breath and words, then sucked my finger clean, I silently slid the bar to ten.

By answering the remaining six questions, the quiz determined we were ninety-six percent compatible. The only other question I answered at eight was how much we agreed on finances.

He once had told me I probably wouldn’t find much value in spending a hundred dollars on a vintage hand mirror and comb set.

He was right, of course. It just sat there on my vanity, untouched; and, truth be told, I didn’t care for relics like that to begin with. It was purely an impulse purchase, further propelled by Theo’s passing judgement. We seemed to align on all the bigger ticket finance items, like wanting to be debt free, rolling our eyes at luxury homes, and deciding that Aldi was far superior to Wegmans in price alone.

All that aside, couldn’t a girl buy a vintage hand mirror and comb set she’d never use for an obscene amount of money?

I knew the answer, but I also knew I still needed a little more convincing.