The Make Out Artist (Accidentally in Love #3) Read Online Sara Ney

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Accidentally in Love Series by Sara Ney
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
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“I can play the guitar. And…I make the most amazing risotto.”

“The guitar, hey? Acoustic or electric?”

“Both, obviously.”

That makes Eli laugh. “Oh—obviously, she says.”

“I taught myself last year, then took a few lessons via Zoom.”

Via Zoom.

I sound like the biggest nerd.

“Any sports?”

“Mmm. I love to swim, but that’s not a skill. Played soccer in middle school and high school but wasn’t good enough to play in college. I hated it actually. I just kept at it because all my friends played it, and I didn’t want to feel left out.”

“That makes sense.” He laughs again. “I played baseball.”

I glance over at him, checking out his arms in the little light we have. He’s removed his jacket and is wearing a dress shirt, but his biceps are firm enough to strain the fabric.

I clear my throat. “You look like the baseball type. What position?”

“Shortstop.”

“Oh la la. Bet you were popular with the ladies.” I wad up my napkin to dispose of it. “Where did you go to school?”

“Arizona for my undergrad.”

Arizona sounds lovely. “I’d always wanted to go there, but my grades weren’t good enough. I remember flipping through a college issue of Cosmo as a teenager and seeing the Arizona State campus and just…wanted to go so bad. But it’s not like my parents were going to take me there. They were successful but didn’t travel much unless it was for work.” I sigh. “My dad literally took a compass on a map and drew a five-hour circumference around our town, and that’s as far as I was ‘allowed’ to go for school.”

“That sucks, but you turned out just fine.”

True.

I look over at Elias again, suddenly wanting to know more about him. Personal stuff.

“Besides ‘she who shall not be named,’ have you been in any other relationships lately?”

“No.” He glances over at me. “Nothing I would call a relationship. I don’t even have anyone I sleep with on a regular basis.”

“Why?”

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “It gets complicated. I tried it, and it didn’t work—not for me, not for them. At some point, feelings always get involved, and it’s typically not my feelings. I have no interest in a relationship with someone who starts asking for gifts and money and apartments.”

Ouch.

I nod, though I can’t relate.

The last man I officially dated cried too much. He cried about his mommy issues, cried because I didn’t tell him I loved him, and cried when he got frustrated.

And we only dated three months.

Then he wanted closure, so we went to dinner where he cried some more. Ugh.

After that, the man showed up a few times on my doorstep unannounced—which was not cool.

The guy before him was a fuck boy.

Exhausting.

And men think it’s hard for them to find romantic partners?! Ha. Try being a single female in the dating pool. At one point, I let Posey set me up with her boss, Victoria, thinking a softer, feminine touch would be the change I needed—but after three dates with her, it hadn’t worked out, either.

I haven’t given up, but…I have given up on dating apps.

For now, anyway.

There doesn’t seem to be a point when each and every date has been a bust, and there have been plenty. It’s not as if I didn’t give it a fair chance…

Planes go by. It's peaceful here, and I understand why he finds this so soothing and relaxing, his solstice. I typically will go to a park when I need a reprieve. Sometimes, it's as simple for me as taking a bath. One with steaming hot water and lots of bubbles.

“I want to help you,” I say at last, breaking another bout of silence.

Eli looks confused. “Help me? How?”

I roll my eyes. Is he forgetting he begged for my assistance not one week earlier? “Being your wingwoman. I’ll do it.”

Eli shoots me a sidelong glance. “Why the change of heart?”

I decide not to sugarcoat it or lie. “I feel bad for you.”

He looked pathetic back at the ballroom, staring off at the woman who had broken his heart and left the pieces scattered for him to pick up.

“Gee, thanks.”

I chuckle. “That’s a first for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And you don’t have to look so pleased with yourself.”

I lean back, my hands resting on the back hood of the car. “So what does this job entail? What are the details?”

“Actually, I hadn't thought it all the way through. When I went up to your room, it was mostly because I wanted to escape the kitchen and the chaos and the noise. My intention in following you wasn't to proposition you in any way. It just sort of happened.”

I can still be of use to him, though, especially now knowing he's just… antisocial. He hasn't said that is the case—and I’m no doctor—but I get the feeling that's what's going on here. Eli wants an emotional support system when he’s out in public: this has little to do with winning a bet with his buddy and his buddy’s wife.


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