The Trouble With Falling
SEVEN
Hartley
It’slate and I’m busy down in the bakery making notes on my pad when I hear a knock at the front door. The only lights I have on down here are the ones in the back hall. I’m working on what I’ll need in the kitchen part and office, and I didn’t think that anyone could even see the light from the front door.
I’m about to ignore it and go back to work, thinking that I just made the sound up or that it was the wind, when the knock comes again, harder this time.
I frown, setting my notepad on the counter as I poke my head out into the front area. It’s dark out but I can make out a figure at the front door and judging by the height, I have a pretty good guess at who it is.
I take my sweet time walking over to answer the door and as I flip the lock, I look up into his annoyed face. In response, I turn up my southern charm and give him the fakest smile that I can muster.
“Elijah, how nice to see you again,” I say, laying on the southern accent and charm.
“I need a favor,” he starts and I can’t stop the laugh from escaping.
“Pass,” I say, trying to shut the door in his face.
“Just hear me out,” he pleads, though he doesn’t look happy to be here.
I wonder what favor he could possibly need that he wouldn’t be happy about. My curiosity grows and I briefly debate letting him in.
My mind flashes back to him giving me a ride home the other night. He didn’t have to do that. I mean, sure, he was a jerk about it a bit, but he did give me a ride and contact the mechanic about fixing it, so maybe I owe him for that. The least that I can do is hear him out.
“You’ve got one minute,” I say, opening the door wider and letting him come in.
I hit the light switch and cross my arms as Elijah scans the empty bakery.
“You’re wasting time,” I remind him and he turns to face me.
His hands rest on his hips and he hangs his head as if he’s in pain. He might be a giant at over six and a half feet tall, but seeing him in that pose makes him look like a teddy bear. Suddenly, the annoyance that I was feeling when I first saw him starts to fade.
“What’s going on, Elijah?” I ask, losing the southern sass.
“I need you to be my girlfriend,” he says in a rush and it takes me a second to process what he just said.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, trying to keep from showing my shock to a minimum.
“I need you to be my girlfriend,” he repeats.
“No,” I say, trying to usher him back out the door. “Oh my god, no. I knew I shouldn’t have let you in here. You berate me in your store, call me an idiot for not having winter wear, nag me about my car the other day and now you want me to go out with you? You must be insane. Is that how people ask each other out here?”
“It’s not like that,” he protests. “Just hear me out.”
I lean against the front door, crossing my arms over my chest as I stare him down.
“It’s my mom,” he says with a sigh. “She’s been trying to fix me up with someone basically since I was born. She heard the rumors that are going around about you and me and called to find out about the new girl in my life.”
“What rumors going around about you and me?” My mind goes back to the weird looks that I got from Juliet and Maggie earlier, and a sense of foreboding slams into me.
“They saw me take your shirt off the other night?” he says nonchalantly.
“Who saw you take my shirt off?” I shriek.
“The Sheriff. And now the whole town knows. And my mother knows. And now I need you to be my girlfriend,” he says slowly.
“And you just lied and told her that we were together?”
“No! No, I told her that we weren’t together and she started going on and on about how she’s going to find me someone when she’s here next week. That’s when I panicked and told her that we had just started dating and that we weren’t telling people yet.”