Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Daisy,” he interrupts instantly, quiet but firm. “You know I’m the last person on this earth who would judge you.”
His gaze holds steady, his patience unwavering.
“God…” I breathe out in a grateful tone. “I know and I appreciate it. I guess I’m judging myself.”
“I can’t change that about you, but,” he adds, tilting his head, “how are you feeling about it?”
I laugh nervously. “How am I feeling? Elias, my life is a grenade I keep pretending is a scented candle.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he says, linking his fingers with mine. “Talk.”
I swallow and search for the right words, but then I realize… Elias is a safe space. I only need to be honest.
“It feels…” The words stick for a second. “It feels good. Too good. And terrifying. And wrong. And right. He’s—God, he’s complicated. And intense. And a complete disaster most days. And I hardly know him. But also… somehow I feel like I do.”
Elias listens. No wincing or lecturing… yet.
“So maybe it was stupid,” I murmur. “Or maybe it wasn’t. And maybe I should just shut it down and focus on my job. But part of me—” I stop, wrapping my arms around myself. “Part of me doesn’t want to.”
He nods slowly.
“Isn’t this,” I whisper, “where you tell me I messed up?”
He shakes his head. “No. This is where I remind you that you deserve to figure out what you want. Not what’s easiest or convenient. Not what just sort of works. The real thing. The thing that makes your soul feel aligned instead of borrowed.”
Elias has always had a way of slicing to the core of me without ever drawing blood.
“Look,” he says gently, “I’m not going to tell you what to do. I refuse to run your emotional GPS unless you explicitly ask.”
“I’m explicitly asking,” I whisper.
He huffs a soft laugh, then readjusts so we’re face-to-face. “Daisy… you remember sophomore year?”
I blink. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Valentine’s Day. The campus quad. The lanterns.”
Oh. That day. I haven’t thought of it in years, but it floods back.
The volunteer lantern event for the Heart Health fundraiser. Students writing messages to hang from paper lanterns. Everyone giggling and flirting and scribbling inside jokes.
And me, standing beside Elias, staring at my blank lantern far too long.
I bypassed the jokes, ignored the temptation to scrawl some boy’s initials, and instead wrote a single line: Someday, I want a love that feels like coming home.
I’d forgotten Elias saw that.
He touches my arm. “You think I didn’t notice how embarrassed you were after? Like you’d revealed too much? But Daisy, that’s you. You’re a romantic, even when you try not to be. You believe in big love… deep love. You always have.”
Emotion stings behind my eyes.
“And yes,” he continues softly, “a fling can be fun. Healthy. Therapeutic even. But don’t pretend that’s all you’re wired for.”
I fight back a rush of more emotions.
“I just don’t want you to end up heartbroken,” he says, voice quiet and earnest beneath the thump of the music. “Not because you slept with someone but because you let yourself settle for a person who isn’t worthy of the way you love.”
My breath catches. Elias sees me too well. And a part of me knows he’s right.
“Daisy.” He squeezes my hand. “Whatever you choose, I’m on your side. I’ll always be on your side. But don’t lie to yourself about what you’re capable of feeling. And don’t lie about what you want.”
Elias pulls me into a hug that reminds me I have roots in this city, even when everything else feels unstable. If I’m honest, the way Elias insists I should be, I have to admit that I want my heart to wrap itself up with Grizz. I’ve seen enough of him to know that I’m willing to risk the possibility of getting hurt.
“You know I love you, right?” Elias says into my hair.
“Unfortunately for you,” I mumble, “it’s mutual.”
He laughs softly and squeezes once more before pulling back.
Before he can say anything else, a cluster of his friends erupts from across the lounge:
“ELIAS! COME OPEN THE REST OF YOUR PRESENTS!”
He sighs dramatically. “A star’s work is never done.”
But before he heads off, he turns back to me, expression serious beneath the reddish lights.
“Daisy… one more thing.”
“Hmm?”
“You know how my uncle is,” he begins. “Julian doesn’t do gray areas. If something looks like an HR violation, he treats it like a federal crime.”
My stomach sinks.
“And dating a player—or even something that could look like dating a player—could be a flirtation with disaster,” he finishes gently.
I blink, processing that. The music blares around us, but suddenly it feels like I’m inside a mind-numbing hangover.
“I’m just saying… be careful. It’s a delicate situation.”
I nod slowly. “I know.”
He touches my arm. “I just don’t want you to get blindsided.”
Then someone drags him away by the elbow, and he flashes me a parting smile over his shoulder. “Come cheer for me when I open my extremely expensive gifts!”