Chapter 18

chapter 18

ELLE

Does a bodyguard count as a stalker?

I snorted at myself, still thinking after I closed my eyes.

I believed Ceph that he'd gone away. I couldn't "feel" him around. I was also sure that was the wrong word for it, but I couldn't think of anything better—I was just worried I could accidentally summon him, like he was Beetlejuice or something.

Which was really hard, because I did want to think about him.

Hanging out with him today was probably the most I'd hung out with anyone in months. Even Grant, and I lived with him.

Had lived with him. Past tense.

Like everything else in my life.

I ran my hands over my body. This was the new and improved Elle now. Streamlined to be more aerodynamic, I thought as I reached the place where my breasts used to be. I hadn't experienced any phantom breast syndrome—which was good, because how ironic would it be to be haunted by my old tits instead of my beloved sister—but I still wasn't used to being me.

Which meant I probably wasn't in a great place to start a new relationship .

Although, really, how much difference was there between Ceph and Donna's Doctor McDreamy? Neither one of us could touch them—except, well, I had. I winced, flashing back to when I'd accidentally groped the bulging muscles of Ceph's arm—and how he'd pushed my hand away right after.

In hindsight, it was humiliating. I rocked my head back and looked at my room's ceiling.

Just stick to the science, Elle. And English tea sets.

Luckily Ceph was right, I was exhausted, and sleep quickly caught up with me.