Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

Quite so motivated to take back my sex life from shitty exes. From Instagram- influenced ideas of perfection and expectation.

At last Eli heaves a sigh. He jabs his spoon into his bowl, lifting a heap of grits to his mouth. He chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“Fine,” he says, making my heart flip. “You have my blessing. I’m not crazy about the idea. But if you promise to be smart, and be good to him, well…what y’all do behind closed doors is y’all’s business.”

I’m smiling that big smile again. The one that makes me feel like my face is split in two.

I lean over and wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“No breakin’ his heart, you hear?”

My turn to scoff. “I think we both know that would never happen.”

“I think you have a bad habit of underestimating yourself,” Eli replies. When I pull back, he meets my eyes. “I’m serious. I love y’all. Be careful, Gracie. Please.”

“I will.”

“Be fearless,” Olivia adds with that knowing smile of hers.

“I will,” I say.

Two opposite things—careful and fearless. But I’d like to think, if I’m smart and I play my cards right, there’s a way to be both.

Now I just have to convince Luke to play with me.Chapter FiveLukeThe first thing I notice when I arrive at Eli’s house on Longitude Lane is that Gracie isn’t here. I know she stops by sometimes when her brother has the day off.

I feel a tug of disappointment. Try to ignore it. If I have Eli to myself, that means I can ask for his blessing.

Because that’s what I came here to do.

I’m going to ask Elijah for his blessing to date Gracie.

Maybe I’m crazy. There’s a good chance I’m about to get my ass kicked. But I can’t let this opportunity pass by. No telling when Gracie will be single like this again. Girl is a total rock star. It’s only a matter of time before someone else scoops her up.

When she told me the other night that she and Nick broke up, I nearly had a heart attack. Excitement and relief mingled to form a potent, persistent kind of hope inside my chest.

Dating Gracie was never a possibility before. We lived in different states. Dated different people.

But now, suddenly, it is a possibility. So I’m going to (hopefully) get Elijah’s blessing. Then I’ll explain everything to Gracie—how I told her I wasn’t looking for anything serious because I didn’t want to fuck with her head—and ask her out on a date.

Granted, so much has to line up just right for the whole thing to happen. Gracie being ready to date again after small dick Nick broke her heart. Eli not cutting off my dick for even suggesting the idea. Then not cutting off my balls for never telling him about this crush I’ve had on his baby sister for years.

Above all else, Gracie and I would have to have a happy ending. Whether that looks like love or friendship, we can’t burn each other to the ground. Because hurting each other would mean hurting Elijah. My best friend.

I also don’t want to lose Gracie as a friend. If I fucked it up, I would hate to not have her in my life anymore. She’s kind and fun and inspiring, and I would miss her like crazy.

But I know I could be good to her. I know I could make her feel better than any of those jerk offs she’s been with.

Granted, that’s a low bar. I plan to do much better.

I’d never date Gracie unless I could do right by her. Unless I could be the stand-up man she wants and deserves.

Still. I’m nervous as hell when I step into Elijah’s kitchen.

I notice immediately that my friend is in a mood.

“We already ate,” he grunts, pots clanging as he gives one a vigorous scrub in the packed sink. “You want some shrimp ’n grits, there’s leftovers in the fridge. Get ’em yourself.”

My stomach clenches. For half a second I’m seized by the wild idea that he knows why I’m here.

I shove the thought from my head. There’s no way he knows. I’ve never mentioned my feelings for Gracie before.

Then again, Eli’s caught me looking at her. More than once.

“I didn’t come to eat,” I reply, giving my keys a flip. “Can we talk?”

His gaze darts to my key ring. Immediately I curl my hand around it, making a fist. I tap that fist on the edge of the island.

Flipping my keys is my nervous tell. Eli knows it.

He turns off the faucet. Grabs a towel and wipes his hands, his eyes flashing darkly when they land on my face.

If looks could kill, this one would make me the victim of a very violent, very bloody homicide.

“About what?” he asks. All ironic innocence.

I run my tongue along my bottom lip. “About Gracie.”