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“Unabomber’s dead.” “That’s what the Unabomber would say to throw me off,”
“He made bombs and solved math theorems. He didn’t kidnap young women.” “You know a lot about the Unabomber for someone who supposedly isn’t him.”
“Eli Killgore,” she read. “This is not a reassuring name, Eli.”
“It’s the third time you asked.” “It’s the third time you didn’t answer. Do you think the two things might be connected?”
“Why did you do that, anyway?” “I appreciated that your photo wasn’t a gym selfie, or you doing the peace sign next to a sedated tiger.” “I see the bar is underground.”
“That’s quite a…I believe the scientific word for it is ‘coinkydink.’ ”
unsmiling men tended to be considered consummate professionals, while serious, unsmiling women were often written off as haughty shrews.
preach
“Child-making without embraces.” Tisha stroked her chin. “The plot thickens.” “No child-making, either. We were looking for a pipette tip.” She deflated. “Sadly, the plot thins.”
I’d been an odd child, then an odd teenager. Then I’d become, maybe as a result, maybe unavoidably, an odd adult.
“Your damn mouth,” he murmured, “is the most obscenely lovely thing I’ve ever had the burden of seeing.”
He would rather go home on his own, catalog everything he knew about Rue Siebert, and jerk off like the pitiful loser he clearly was.
“Have I? Or did our acquaintance come to its natural and predetermined end?”
“We could leave together. Tonight.” “Rue.” “Unless you’re busy.” “Rue.” “You can say no, if you—” “Rue.”
“What about romantic love?” Eli’s heart pounded, and he wasn’t sure why. “You think you could manage that?”
“Maybe. Or maybe some people are too broken. Maybe…maybe things have happened in their lives, in their past, that have damaged them so bad, they’re never going to get happy endings with the loves of their lives.”
“Maybe some people are meant to be tragedies.”
We share horrible things that we have done, that have been done to us, and then wait and see if the other is going to be so appalled that they’ll finally leave—but somehow that never happens. We don’t make small talk. We cut through the flesh and show the stories that live in our skeletons.
“Part of me wants to feel offended. That you won’t skate with me for five minutes, but are okay with being fucked in the middle of a parking lot.” “And the other part?” Eyes fixed on mine, he opened the passenger door. “Get inside.”
“Come to my place. Let me take care of you. Let me teach you how to pet dogs. Exposure therapy, sweetheart.”
“You moving in. You, quitting your job so we can do this twenty times a day. Me, retiring to service you full-time. Us, fucking around for the rest of our lives. Does it really not sound like a fantastic idea?”
“Don’t say no, Rue,” he murmured. A low, heartfelt appeal. “Don’t do this to us.” I didn’t let myself think about it. “Okay.”
If I were able to love someone, I would choose you. In that timeline, I would want it to be you.
having it hard doesn’t give us a pass to cheat other people out of their work, especially not to screw over people who have it harder.”
But after the last few days, it was obvious that he wanted a hazy, undefined more. Which was hazily, undefinedly terrifying.
I thought I’d be rid of you by now. I thought I’d sweat you out. But it’s like you’ve stolen a little piece of me.
“Just trust me,” he told Tiny when the lovelorn puppy eyes wouldn’t stop. “And stop pining. It’s undignified.”
“Wow. He’s such a shithead.” “I can’t prove it.” “Such an alleged shithead.”
But the point is, everything she has can be taken from her. While we have built something that—” “Please don’t say that the real equity in the biofuel tech was the friends we made along the way.”
“Sul says I’m funny.” “Sul’s more whipped than a bowl of mashed potatoes.”
“I want her to be all right more than I want to keep my dignity.” “Christ.” Minami gave him an aghast look. “On second thought, you might die from a broken heart.”
You just care about yourself more, and that’s your right. I’d rather not surround myself with someone who’ll hurt me just to get ahead, and that’s mine.”
“And something else. Something I didn’t have the language for. It was growing between us, and I didn’t know how to name it. Even when I could finally imagine life as something shared. Even when I trusted you. Even when my mind was always full of you. There had never been anyone like you, and for a long time I didn’t have the word.” “What word?” “Love.”
“If you still want me to love you, I really think I can love you back. Because I already do.” Two tears streaked her cheekbones. “And if you don’t, I guess I’ll be loving you anyway. But if you were to give me another chance—”
“It means that I’m not going into this thinking that there will be an ending. Do you get my meaning?”
“I’m going to do the filthiest things to you.” Her breath hitched. “You do have a ridiculous sex drive.” “So do you.” “So do I.”
“I’ll never be easy to be around, Eli.” He knew that. He loved that. He wanted nothing more than to learn every inch of her, his complicated, mercurial dream girl.
“What did you say?” “Marriage. Would you like to?” I opened my mouth. Stayed like that. “To me, that is. I should have specified.”
“I was so wrong.” “About what?” he asked against my shirt. It meant that he probably couldn’t see my smile, and wasn’t that too bad? “About whether my story could ever be happy.”
