Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 65

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Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 65

Eli could take a joke. He shrugged into his shirt. “Yeah, sure.” Then, when he realized Nick was
looking at him meaningfully, “Oh. Yeah. I mean, yes. A hundred percent. If you—yes.”
Nick shrugged into the robe. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to getting educated,” he said with
half a smile.
Right. Because this was all in the name of education. Nothing else.
He finished getting dressed and let Nick see him to the door. Nick’s robe was a little too short,
showing a good mile of leg. Eli was so distracted by it, he didn’t notice the sweatshirt until it
was being pressed into his hands.
“It’s cold out,” Nick said in a whisper. “I know you’re very tough and Florida winters are a joke to
you, but… take it, okay?”
Any protest Eli might have made died on his tongue.
“Okay.” Eli slipped the sweatshirt over his head and put up the hood. It was huge on him, the
sleeves dangling off his fingertips. It smelled like Nick.
His phone pinged in his pocket. The Uber’s headlights blazed through the windows as the car
pulled into Nick’s driveway. Their farewells were rushed, an awkward half hug, half peck on the
lips.
Unseen in the shadows of the Uber’s back seat, Eli buried his face in the warm fleece of his
borrowed sweatshirt and inhaled. He was such a fool. He needed to get it together. Act like an
adult. Communicate, or at least try.
He pulled out his phone and texted Nick, hoping it didn’t come off as too desperate to reach out
before he was even back home.
We should probably get that continuing education of yours on the calendar. The day after
next?
That was fun. Sexy. Open-ended. Nick could respond with as much or as little flirtation as he
liked. His phone pinged.
Can’t. Going fishing. Then working.

-- 167 of 228 --

Okay. A bit terse, especially for someone who had texted Eli multiple times in a row in quick
succession previously, and in complete sentences. Still, Eli was determined to find out for sure
where they stood.
The day after that?
Yeah. Because a winky face was super adult. Eli tipped his head onto the Uber’s headrest and
groaned. He sounded so pathetic. At least this couldn’t get any worse.
His phone lit up again with Nick’s reply.
Can’t. Working.
“I stand corrected,” Eli muttered to himself. He could only get shot down so many times before
his bruised ego couldn’t take any more hits. He shoved his phone in the pocket of the borrowed
hoodie.
“What’d you say?” the Uber driver said from the front seat.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Eli heard his phone chime again, fishing it out with dread in his
stomach. It was from Nick, of course.
Some other time
Was that a question? A statement? This was why Eli hated texting. He couldn’t see what Nick’s
face was doing, couldn’t hear if his voice was filled with steady sincerity. He could only take the
words at face value, and in his
estimation, this was clearly Nick putting some distance between them. And why shouldn’t he?
No promises had been made, there were no expectations.
“Here we are,” the driver said as the car pulled up in front of Eli’s parents’ house.
“Thanks, man. Have a safe night.” His mom would be very proud; he was being polite to a
service worker even though his heart was sinking somewhere into his sneakers. He sent one last
text to Nick as he got out of the car, telling him he’d made it home okay.
He stared at the screen, willing the little “read” checkmark to appear. It didn’t.
So this is Christmas, he thought bitterly.
What had he done?