CHAPTER EIGHT

THEO

The sound of the front door closing at 10 AM felt like a countdown starting.

I waited five minutes to make sure they were really gone, then went straight to the basement gym. The equipment was old—stuff my mom had kept from when I was in high school—but it worked. I pushed myself through reps until my muscles screamed, sweat dripped off me and I couldn't think about anything except the burn in my arms and the ache in my legs.

When I finally came upstairs an hour later, Elijah was in the kitchen making lunch.

He'd laid out sandwiches on two plates with chips and two glasses of water like he had been waiting for me to come up before he’d eat.

"I'm not hungry," I said.

He didn't look up from what he was doing. "Sit down and eat, Callahan."

"I said I'm not hungry."

"And I said sit down." He glanced at me then, taking in my sweaty shirt and exhausted face. "You just worked out for an hour. You need to eat."

He was right and my stomach chose to gruymbled at that moment making him raise an eyebrow while I scoweld, trying to act like I wasn't embarrassed.

He set a plate in front of me and sat across from me with his own. We ate in silence. I focused on my sandwich and tried not to look at him and also not to notice the way his hands looked so good or the way he seemed completely comfortable with the silence while I felt like I was choking on it.

Five minutes passed. Then he said, conversationally, "You called your girlfriend yesterday."

My jaw tightened. "That's not your business."

He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed. "Does she know you're spending a month with me?"

"She knows I'm visiting my mom."

"Does she know about the bet?"

I stood up so fast my chair scraped against the floor. "Fuck you."

Elijah leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered. "That's not an answer."

"Dana has nothing to do with this," I said. "Leave her out of it."

"I have no interest in Dana," he said, and something in his tone made me look at him. His eyes were fixed on mine. "My interest is singular."

My body went rigid. He looked at me like a prey he wanted to devour.

I started to leave.

"I'm calling for the second collection," Elijah said behind me. "Tonight."

I kept walking.

"You agreed to the bet, Captain. Are you breaking your word?"

I stopped in the doorway but didn't turn around. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides and I couldn't decide if I wanted to hit him or hit the wall or just get the hell out of this house.

"Fine," I said. "But if you push too far, deal or no deal, I'm done."

I waited for him to argue, push back or say something that would give me an excuse to walk away.

Instead his voice came soft, almost gentle. "I'm not interested in breaking you, Theodore."

Theodore. Not Callahan. Not Captain. Theodore.

"I'm interested in seeing what happens when you stop pretending about who you are."

I walked out before I could do something stupid.

****

I showered for twenty minutes, standing under water as hot as I could stand, trying to wash away the way he'd said my name and to forget the look on his face when he'd said his interest was singular.

When I came downstairs, Elijah was on the couch reading the same book from yesterday. He looked up when I walked in.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"What do you want from me?" I said.

He closed the book and set it aside. "I already told you. I want you to stop pretending."

"I'm not pretending anything."

"You called your girlfriend yesterday and told her you miss her." He stood up and walked toward me. "Do you miss her?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

"You don't know what I feel."

"I know exactly what you feel," he said, stopping a few feet away. "I know you're terrified. I know you're trying to hold onto something that makes sense. I know you called her because hearing her voice makes you feel like you're still the person you think you're supposed to be."

"Stop," I said.

"But you're not that person anymore, are you?" He took another step closer. "Not after the locker room. Not after the night a few days ago when you came to my room."

"I came because of the bet."

"You came because part of you wanted to see what would happen." He was right in front of me now. Close enough that I could smell his soap. "You came because you're curious. Because you want to know what it would feel like to stop fighting it."

"You don't know anything about me." I swallowed.

"I know more than you think."

He reached out and I thought he was going to touch my face or my chest or something obvious. Instead his hand went to my thigh, just above my knee, resting there and I swear to God I felt it everywhere.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"Testing something."

"What?"

"Whether you'll let me."

His hand stayed on my thigh and the rational part of my brain said I should step back or pushed him away or do literally anything except stand there like an idiot while he touched me.

"See?" he said quietly. "You're not moving."

"I'm about to."

"No, you're not." His thumb moved slightly. "You're going to stand here and let me touch you because you want to know what it feels like. Because you've been thinking about it since."

"I haven't—"

"Your pupils are dilated," he said. "Your breathing changed the second I touched you. Your hands are clenched but you're not using them to push me away."

I looked down at my hands. They were clenched into fists at my sides, knuckles white.

"This is the bet," I said.

"No," Elijah said. "The bet is just your excuse. This is you wanting something you're not ready to admit you want."

He pulled his hand away and I hated how much I noticed its absence.

"Tonight," he said. "11:30. My room."

"I don't—"

"You'll be there," he said. "Because you want to know what happens next—you're very curious. And because some part of you that you keep trying to bury is desperate to see how far this goes."

He walked past me toward the stairs, pausing at the bottom. "And Theodore? When you come tonight, don't bother lying to yourself about why."