Amy Inspired by Bethany Pierce Read Free Book Online Page B

face, her round head, so perfect. Rinaldi ached to touch her.
    Taller than most. Red curls. Blue eyes. He was describing me .
    “Hey.”
    Zoë stood at my table, wiping her wet hands on her work apron.
    “I have ten seconds.” She took a chair and propped her feet up on mine, her black-and-white-checkered Keds studded with dirtsmudged Hello Kitty stickers.
    “It’s busy here today,” I remarked.
    “It always is once the cold sets in.” She rubbed her eyes vigorously. Her nail polish had worn down to irregular blurbs of hot pink.
    “What’ve you been doing?”
    “Grading.”
    “What else,” she muttered, picking up Lonnie’s story and leafing through the pages. “I talked to Eli this morning.”
    I waited. “And?”
    “Do we have extra bedsheets? Towels?” Her voice trailed off and her brow furrowed as she read. “Amy, what is this?”
    “A student’s story.”
    I tried to take the story back from her, but she grabbed my wrist and held my arm over her head, turning in her chair to prevent me from reaching further.
    Aloud she read, “ ‘Besotted, he gazed longingly into the starry night sky, his loins on fire with love.’ ” She laughed. “I haven’t seen the word loins since Sunday school. This is genius .”
    “Zoë,” I warned. “Come on, he’s just a beginner.”
    “Oh, no. This is good.”
    I snatched the manuscript back. “You shouldn’t laugh.”
    “I don’t know how you read that stuff.”
    “What’s this about Eli?” I asked, hoping to reroute the conversation.
    “He just wanted to know if we had stuff to make up a bed. He had to throw all his sheets and pillows out.”
    “We have extras. We’ll just make up the futon—if he doesn’t mind.”
    “After what he’s been through, I’m sure he’d be happy to sleep on the kitchen floor.”
    I perched my pen over Lonnie’s manuscript, an indication that I needed to work.
    “I should let you get back to the lover’s loins.” Her manager walked in the room. She stood quickly, wiping my already clean table with a wet rag. “I told her I’d work a double shift today so I need you to be at the apartment when Eli gets there.”
    “He’s coming tonight ?”
    “He’s coming now. He said he’d be here in an hour.”
    I glared at her. “Zoë, the apartment is a disaster—we don’t have anything for him to eat, our laundry is everywhere …”
    She pretended to restock the sugar packets at the next table. “He doesn’t care.”
    “ I care.”
    “Throw the laundry under my bed, leave the dishes in the sink, and I’ll pick up something for dinner. Problems solved.” She smiled her best customer service smile, turned on her heel, and walked briskly away.

    He arrived in a green Volkswagen van that rattled so loud it was remarkable I didn’t hear him until he appeared in my doorway. He was three and a half hours late.
    “Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The door was open. Zoë said to come on in.”
    When I didn’t say anything, he extended his hand. “I’m Eli.”
    I was taken aback by his appearance: He was the same man I’d seen at the poetry reading. He certainly wasn’t the man I was expecting. The Eli I knew from Zoë’s stories ran a gallery and a clothing drive, networked with artists, set commission, handled sales. He should have been shorter, heavier, dressed in khakis and a collared shirt, more like a thirty-year-old and less like a half-starved vagabond.
    I accepted his handshake. “Amy,” I said.
    “I remember—from the reading. We waved.”
    “I saw you with Zoë. I just assumed you were a friend from campus.”
    “I was only down for the night,” he explained. “Zoë meant to introduce us, but you disappeared with someone. A guy in glasses? Kind of balding on top?”
    “That’s Everett. He likes to sit in the back for quick escape. He doesn’t do well at those things, for whatever reason. He’s a friend from the office.” I shut my mouth