“Oh. Of course.”
I shouldn’t say any more, but… “Hey, Eloise?”
“Yeah?”
“If you… if you ever need someone or want to talk, you can always reach out. It doesn’tjusthave to be about lessons.”
At this, her expression lightens. “But I don’t haveyournumber.”
“Oh.” With a smirk, I open her contact on my phone and type out a text. “There. Now you do.”
She looks down at her screen, her smile widening as she reads my text. “I see you too, Riot.”
Her words hold a double meaning, and when Eloise looks up, her eyes are filled with a depth of emotion too much for one person to hold. It’s sudden and shocking, and the sight of it pulls all the breath from my lungs.
And all I want is to drown in her.
I reach out, my fingertips brushing lightly against hers. That same electricity from earlier crackles between us, filling the air with a heated sense of urgency and something else I can’t put my finger on. It’s dangerous. It’s addictive.
It’s her.
Eloise’s face reddens, her chest rising and falling with each rapid, shallow breath. I know if I just lean in, if I close that distance, if I give in to the urges surging through my veins…
No. I can’t. It’s not right. I’ll ruin her.
Against every one of my instincts and desires, I pull away from Eloise, the cold and emptiness left in the absence of her touch threatening to drag me to my knees. “I…” I clear my throat, suddenly desperate for a cigarette and a whiskey on ice. “I think?—”
“It’s late. I need to get going,” she whispers, tearing her gaze away from mine. “I… thank you for the lesson today, Riot. It was a lot of fun.”
Eloise leaves quickly, and I’m left staring after her with nothing but a hard cock and a stomach full of regret.Why did I let her leave? Why didn’t I ask her to stay?
Why would she listen to me?
With my heart heavy, I lock up the shop and head home. The thrill of riding isn’t nearly as invigorating as it was last week, and by the time I get back to my barren hotel suite, I’m in a worse mood than I was before.
Grabbing the bottle on the nightstand, I take a large swig and flop back onto my unmade bed. The liquor has gone stale and leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but still, I go for another mouthful.
Once I’m sufficiently buzzed, I pull out my phone and type “Eloise Marquette shows” into my search bar. Is it borderline stalker behavior? Yes. Do I have the willpower to stop myself? Maybe.
I press enter.
A wealth of web pages pop up—those selling tickets and others simply talking about Eloise’s upcoming shows. Just like Mac said, people are still raving about her recent world tour.
But more importantly, I find out that Eloise has been playing at the Neon Valley Concert Hall once a week for the past two months. And she has a show this Saturday.
My cursor hovers over the Purchase option. I’m conflicted, and something inside me is stopping me from pressing the damn button. I think about Eloise, her pretty white smile and troubled eyes. If I get too close, I could ruin her. I could kill what little light she has left.
But there’s no reason for me to worry about that, is there? Eloise doesn’twantto get close to me. Something so perfect would never sully itself with a wreck like me.
And still, I wish things were different.
I wish I were younger, I wish I weren’t so worn down by the world. More than anything, I wish that I weregood.Someone worthy of calling a woman like Eloisemine.
I close out of the tab.If I decide to go, I’ll just show up and buy a ticket at the booth. If I really can’t help myself, I’ll go and watch her play.
I swear that after Saturday, I’ll stop thinking about her so much. After Saturday, I’ll forget how the little twinkle in her eyes makes my heart race. After Saturday, this obsession will ease. Keeping our relationship strictly professional will be a breeze, and it won’t physically hurt to be in her presence.
After this weekend, everything will be back to normal.
