Not the Rebound Guy by Abby Knox (popular books of all time .txt) 📗

I do know that feeling. The second that I had Eliza in my truck, after picking her up from the airport.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to hide the hitch in my voice.

Wyatt says, “When Erin smiled at me in the middle of that first economics lecture, it was the first time I felt human ever since…”

Simultaneously, Wyatt and I both say it. “Since Grandma and PawPaw died.”

So that’s it.

“I’m really happy for you,” I say, trying to hurry my brother off the phone, suddenly realizing I have a romantic dinner to prepare.

“Whoever she is, brother, don’t waste any time thinking too hard about it. Go and get her.”

That’s precisely what I plan to do.

Chapter Nine

Eliza

Grams waves goodbye from the porch as if Garrett and I are leaving for prom night. Even Gertie, Helen, and Carl, the pot-bellied pig, have sauntered up to see us off.

Garrett helps me into the cab of the truck, though I don’t need any help. He even helps me with the seat belt. “It’s a little bit of an old-school one, so you gotta tug it a couple of times.”

I gasp and laugh when his hand grazes my boob. Looking up at him, I can see him blushing three shades of crimson.

“I’m so sorry, I totally was not meaning to cop a feel while helping you with your seat belt. It really is a pain in the tush.”

“Sure you didn’t,” I tease. “That’s what all the chivalrous guys say when they help me with a seat belt.”

“Guys actually do this all the time?” He totally bought it.

I have to let him off the hook; he looks like he’s going to faint from embarrassment. “No. Nobody does that. Guys don’t even hold doors open for me anymore. It’s my ultra-feminist vibe combined with my resting bitch face. So don’t even worry about it. You’re the first guy to genuinely accidentally graze my boob in about a century. And I believe it was an accident.”

He hovers with the door open and stares at me. “I think that’s just sad.”

Suddenly I don’t feel as empowered as I usually do around this guy. “I’m not sad about it; it’s just the way it is,” I say.

He holds up his hands. “No, I’m not sad for you! I’m sad for those other jerks who don’t take the first opportunity to treat you correctly.”

This is one of those moments where he says something, and I have to take a breath.

Garrett’s arm rests on the truck’s window frame, unintentionally showing off his triceps in that henley he wears. Who is this man, anyway? He smiles at me for a beat as I take in what he’s said, then closes his eyes and rests his against his forearm, seeming deep in thought about something. He lets out a low hum, or a growl, or some kind of masculine noise that I don’t quite understand.

“You are something special, Eliza.”

I blink at him and have to force myself to meet his gaze. I don’t think I’ve said anything or done anything to make him believe that. But I could get used to the way he looks at me. He has such friendly eyes, but sometimes—like right now—when he’s looking at me, trying to communicate feelings, those eyes feel so intense I have to look away. I like him so much as a person, for taking care of my Grams and for generally being such a good human. He deserves all the things. He deserves whatever he wants. But we’ve known each other for one day, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s looking at me like a man in love. And I’m not sure I can reciprocate.

“We’d better get going, or we’ll miss the good spot,” I breathe.

He taps the top of the window frame twice. “Yes, ma’am.”

Grams lied. The film at the drive-in tonight is not that new comedy.

It’s a special showing of Ghost.

As the trailers end and the film begins, I mutter, “Oh my god.”

I glance over at Garrett, who is next to me in the bed of the pickup. We have the center window cracked open to hear the film’s sound broadcast on the radio.

“Didn’t you tell me it was supposed to be that new one?”

“No, your Grams said it was.”

“I didn’t check the listing on the placemats, did you?”

“I didn’t go to the diner today,” he says.

I have to laugh. “I can’t believe they’re still putting the town news on the placemats.”

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. You were in there, you know.”

I pivot my shoulders so I face him in the dark, suddenly very interested in this news. “I made it in the placemat?”

He laughs. “You sure did. The day you got that job in New York.”

I roll my eyes. “Grams probably did that.”

“Probably,” he laughs.

I look back up at the screen and say, “I hope you have some tissues in the truck because this is going to get real,” I say.

Garrett’s eyes go wide, and his voice is full of fake outrage. “Young lady, I would never let you watch me clean the pipes on a first date.”

I punch him in the shoulder.

“Ow,” he laughs.

“I mean because I might cry! Idiot.”

He can’t stop laughing. “I might cry too; you never know.”

“Just watch the movie. God.”

I want to punch him again, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie; his dumb jokes make me smile. In fact, ever since I arrived back in my hometown, I’ve been uncharacteristically smiling a lot.

“I don’t know why Grams would say that another movie was playing. She reads the placemats like it’s the Bible.”

“Your Grams doesn’t read the Bible. She reads dirty novels from the grocery store.”

“That’s the truth.”

When I’ve had my fill of the snacks Garrett packed, I adjust myself to get comfortable in the truck bed. It’s not the best place to chill for long periods. Garrett sees me shifting my weight around, and offers to set up one of the stadium seats he keeps stashed in here