That Thing Between Eli and Gwen (3 page)

As always, he was less than impressed, but at least this time I couldn’t blame him. I looked back in dismay at all the boxes left in the U-Haul. It was going to take a while.

Maybe I should have hired movers?
I thought as I entered the building.

Taigi whimpered as his paws slipped and slid on the smooth marble floors.

Laughing, I grabbed his leash as we waited for the elevator. Luckily, the floors on our level weren’t as shiny.

34B was at the end of the hall, and just as I gripped the handle, I heard another door open behind me. Turning, I came face to face with Dr. Asshole himself.

His blue-green eyes stared back at me in confusion. He glanced at the box in my hands, then at the door, and finally back to me.

“Please tell me you aren’t moving in.” He frowned.

“Please tell me you don’t live there.” I pointed at the door behind him.

His lips formed a straight line, and it looked like he was grinding his jaw.

Taigi, wanting attention as well, ran up to him and started to sniff, rubbing his nose all over his jeans, which only made him sneeze on the fabric.

Good boy.

“Urgh! God damn it! Can you tame your wolf?” he yelled, waving him away.

“He’s a Siberian husky, not a wolf, you big baby,” I replied, dropping the box in the hall and pulling Taigi, who sneezed on him again.

His eyes widened and one eyebrow twitched as he glared down at me.

“Sorry, he's allergic to jerks.” I pushed Taigi behind me.

I swore, if he could have killed me with his gaze, I would have been six feet under at that very moment. Without another word, he turned back to his apartment, most likely to change his clothes.

When the door closed, I cupped the sides of Taigi’s face. “Good boy!” I grinned, letting us into our new home.

But really, out of all the condos in the city, why the hell had I ended up next to him? Meeting him at the hospital had left a bad taste in my mouth. I’d had this picture of him in my mind, the heartbroken man who was left by the love of his life at the altar. However, with each meeting, my image of him changed. He was so condescending!

How he and Logan are related is beyond me.
I headed back down to get more boxes and got on the elevator.

Sadly, before the elevator door closed he came out again, dressed in track pants and a sleeveless sweatshirt. This time he didn’t pay any attention to me, putting his headphones in.

The ride down felt like it took forever, and when the doors opened, I made my escape quickly, heading straight to the back of the U-Haul.

“Can’t a con artist like you afford to hire movers?”

He, for some reason, had stopped and stared at the boxes I had to move.
Just go on your damn run already. Wait…
“Con artist?”

He nodded as if he didn’t know why I was confused. “I’ve seen your paintings. There's no way in hell they're worth what you sell them for. You are ripping people off, therefore, you are a con artist.”

Speechless, my mouth dropped open.

“That’s attractive,” he said, acting disgusted before adjusting his ear buds and leaving me as he continued down the street.

“ASS!” I yelled, earning me a few glances from passerby.

My phone buzzed.

Answering it, I snapped, “Hello!”

“Is this a bad time?”

I looked at the caller ID before speaking again. “Katrina. Sorry, yeah, no, we can talk. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m actually right by your place. Can we meet up for a second?”

“Okay, my place is still a mess, but you can come over,” I replied, looking for her on the street. However, she didn’t walk up the street. She, like all high-powered lawyers, pulled up right next to me in a sleek town car.

When she stepped out, I saw her short blonde hair was slicked back, and she was dressed in a tailored pantsuit. One word described Katrina Turner: intimidating. Which was why I'd hired her.

“You weren’t kidding,” she replied when I opened the door to the sea of boxes and canvases lining the walls and appliances.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a pain moving on such short notice.” In fact, it was pretty much unbelievable. Just a few weeks before, I had been searching for wedding dresses and honeymoon destinations. And now…now, this was my life, in boxes.

“I would have stabbed him,” she said, moving toward the large window overlooking the city.

“I believe you.” I smiled, looking out as well.

She handed me a file. “I submitted this just an hour ago. If he doesn’t let you out of the contract, we can always make noise.”

She'd never even asked me if I wanted to end my contract with
Class
and
Rebel
magazines. After word had spread, she had drawn up this proposal. I hadn’t even known he was back at work; I hadn’t dared show my face anywhere near there. Everything was happening too fast, and no matter how hard I tried to stand up, I felt like I was getting beaten into the ground.

“Basically, you would agree to never speak of the incident, and in exchange, they will double your severance. I spoke to your agent; apparently you have more than a dozen offers, not to mention she said you wanted to open a new gallery. No longer being contracted frees up your schedule greatly. You are the winner in all of this.”

If I’m the winner, then why do I still feel still like shit?
“Let me know what their reply is,” I whispered, handing back the file.

“Okay. I’ll let myself out. And Gwen.” She stopped at the door. “I know it’s still too soon to say this, but I know you are much better off without him.”

When I was alone again, I glanced back at the window. As I began to tremble, I could feel my body temperature rising. My eyes burned from the tears I fought back.

“No,” I said out loud. I was not going to break down, not right then. I was sick and tired of crying, damn it. Moving to the boxes, I searched for my portable speakers, placed my mp3 player in the dock, and, turning up the volume as loud as possible, snatched a blank canvas from the wall.

Eli

I ran for at least two hours, and when I got back, her U-Haul was still open, with three boxes remaining. I wasn’t sure if she was stupid or just didn’t give a damn. Yeah, this was a nice neighborhood, but you still couldn’t just leave things open like that. Stacking them on the corner, I closed the back door of the truck, lifted the boxes, and headed inside.

Why the hell am I doing this?
She was most likely going to bark at me anyway. Walking to her door, I could already hear music blaring.

Great, she's this kind of neighbor.
Of all the damn places in New York, she had to choose my building.

As I was about to knock, the door creeped open slightly on its own.

“Hello…?” I tried, but my voice was drowned out by music. Her dog glanced up at me but didn't bother getting up. Following his gaze, I saw her. She knelt in the middle of her condo, a canvas lying on plastic over the flooring. She threw paint at it with her bare hands, almost like she was punching it. After a few throws, she would try to wipe her eyes, not seeming to care that the paint rubbed off on her face. She painted and cried, all while on her knees.

Placing the boxes just inside her door, I left quietly, heading back to my place. I took a water bottle from my fridge and tried to not to think about it. This was why having her as a neighbor was a problem! It wasn’t her fault, but just looking at her pissed me off. Seeing her cry pissed me off.

“Ah!” I threw my water bottle against the wall.

I needed a stronger drink.

Chapter Three

Science vs. Art

Guinevere

Bang.

“Oh god!”

Bang.

“Yes! Harder.”

Bang.

“So good!”

I sat on my bed, staring at the shaking wall with a strange mixture of horror and astonishment. It had been four days since I'd moved in, and it was like this every other freaking night. At first, I’d thought he was shooting a porno.

“Eli…yes!”

The woman screamed in what I could only guess was utter ecstasy. She had a broader vocabulary than the other woman he had brought over; she had just kept singing, “Fuck.”

Bang!

I jumped back as, once more, my wall shook.

This is ridiculous! It’s two in the morning!
I rose to my feet, banging my hand on the wall before jumping off my bed and heading toward the door. Ripping it open, I stomped to his door and raised my fist, ready to slam it down on—

“What!” he yelled, almost pulling the door off its hinges. He stood there in nothing but his pajama bottoms hanging low off his hips, his bare, muscular chest exposed.

“Hi, do you mind screwing at a more reasonable hour? I can’t sleep listening to you people moan behind me,” I snapped back.

“I’m a doctor, this is a reasonable hour for me,” he replied, trying to close the door.

I stuck my hand out to stop it. “Maybe for you, but for normal human beings, not so much.”

He shrugged. “And why should I care?”

“Wow, are you really this much of a dick?”

“Baby, is everything all right?” A woman with bottle number nine red hair stepped forward in what looked to be only his shirt. She wrapped her arm around his chest, glaring at me.

“Apparently, you were too loud. My neighbor can’t sleep.”

Her gaze focused on me, and she looked me up and down. “Sorry.”

“Good enough, Con Artist?”

He didn’t wait for my reply before closing the door in my face. Once again, I knocked.

“What!”

I looked past him to the woman and smiled. “He has chlamydia.”

“What?”

He stared at me, dumbfounded, but the girl seemed clueless. I laughed out loud as I headed back to my apartment. Yes, it was childish, but there was just something about him that got under my freaking skin. I want to punch his face in.
At least they’ve stopped,
I thought, falling onto my bed. I was there for only a moment before I heard someone knocking.

Please don't be you.
I prayed, but it did no good. I opened the door partially and the prick let himself in, now dressed in jeans and a gray shirt. He glanced around my place, which was mostly empty since I didn’t have furniture.

“Excuse you! I don’t remember inviting you in.”

“Chlamydia? Really? What are you, in high school?” He finally spoke, leaning against my kitchen counter.

“Did you come here for an apol—”

“Yes, in fact, I did. My friend left me, and I should sue you for slander.”

“Slander? Really? Please, go ahead. As long as I get sleep, I don’t care.”

“You paint pictures for a living. Sleep in the day.”

I wanted to smack him.

“Look, whatever. I’m sorry for what I said, it was rude. Please, for the sake of my sanity, please…I don’t know…don’t prop up against your bedroom wall at least. If you're civil, I’m civil, Eli.” I extended my hand toward him.

“Fine, Guinevere.” He shook my hand and frowned.

“Please don’t call me that, just Gwen—”

He grinned. “All right, Con Artist, let’s be civil.” Letting go of my hand, he walked out.

I felt the urge to smack him. There wasn’t a civil bone in his body.

Eli

Fixing my tie and grabbing my phone, I tried to ignore the pain in my head. I had the worst hangover. I hadn’t planned to get so drunk the night before, but I hadn’t been on call and had found myself going to the bar across the street from the hospital. Once there, I met a redhead named…Suzanna…Joanna…I couldn’t remember. Anna was in there somewhere. We were getting along fine until that woman came hammering on my door in the middle of the night.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, stepping out of her apartment at the same time I did, dressed in a white oversized blazer with paint splatter on it, a tight shirt, shorts, and black military boots. She held on to the bars of her bright yellow bicycle. “You okay? You don’t look so well.”

“What’s with the act?” I walked toward the elevator.

“No act,” she said, shifting her helmet under her other arm. “I’m just not going to let you drag me down to your level. From now on, I will reciprocate your rudeness with kindness.”

“You were bullied in high school, weren’t you?” I questioned as the elevator doors closed.

She opened her mouth to speak, but just mumbled something under breath and tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear.

“What was that?”

She faced me and shook her head, getting off at the lobby. “Nothing. Have a good day, Dr. As—Dr. Davenport.”

My town car was already waiting for me.

She waved to me as she biked down away.

“A friend of yours, sir?” the driver asked.

“Not in the slightest,” I said, getting into the car.

“Strange, I swear I’ve seen her before.”

I didn’t say anything, going over my notes for the speaking engagement at NYU. Of all the doctors the hospital could have chosen to speak to students, why the hell did it have to be me? I couldn't care less what these kids decided to do with their lives.

“My daughter tells me this event has been sold out for weeks. She’s broadcasting it over the campus radio.” He glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

“I don’t see why.” I leaned into the seat, watching as people walked past us. I hated traffic and we were currently moving at a snail’s pace. In this city, everyone had some place they needed to go, and quickly.

“Graduation is in two days. I think many of them are hoping all of those speaking will tell them what to do their lives.” He laughed as we started to move again.

“Wasn’t that the point of college? They had four years to figure that out.”

“You know kids, always doubting. I’m sure you had moments where you doubted where your future career would take you.”

“Never.” I shook my head. “I always knew what I was going to do with my life. It was never a question of if or how, but when. I believe everyone knows what they want to do, but they’re just too afraid they won’t be able to do it.”