Elijah (MxM)

Chapter Seven

He bobbed his head, turning around and handing me my coffee. I tasted it cautiously, it wasn't nearly sweet enough, who did he think I was?

"Good?" He wondered, giving me a thumbs up.

I smacked my lips. "No."

He grinned, going to grab it but I stopped him, putting a hand over the mug.

"It's fine," I admitted. He nodded through a laugh, turning back to the stove, tending to whatever he was cooking there. It smelled really fucking good.

How was he always so cheeky? It was honestly infuriating. We were supposed to be upset with each other, but he just seemed happy to see me. It made this ten times harder than it already was. I wish he would just be mean to me, ignore me. I didn't think it was in his nature.

My mom turned to me, her eyes lighting up in question. "So how was camping, Kit? I heard you got rained out."

"Yeah," I scratched the back of my neck at the memory. "It was fun."

"That's it? Just fun."

I squinted at her suspiciously. "Yeah, I mean, what else?"

She shrugged. "You and Elijah have some bonding time?"

I looked at him with his back turned to me.

"Sure," I answered nervously.

Catherine slapped her hands on the counter in front of me.

"Did you know," she started, sounding kind of wine drunk, "that Elijah can play the guitar? Oh, and sing? He's really good too."

Elijah looked over his shoulder at her, and I swear he was blushing. "Come on, Cat. Don't tell him that, he'll make fun of me."

"Really?" I said, drawing out the word. "Interesting."

"It's really not," he laughed, "don't ask me to play you something."

I raised my hands in surrender. "I wouldn't subject myself to that kind of torture."

"See?" He pointed his spoon at Cathy. "I told you."

She laughed girlishly, hugging onto his arm. "Come on, baby. Play us something later. Please."

"No." He said in a way that was humorous yet final.

My mom hummed to herself like she was drinking in the sight of this. "It's nice that you and Kit are friends, Elijah. Not everyone can put up with my sons' endless sarcasm."

Elijah smiled at her sincerely. "I think it's one of his best qualities."

I pulled on the collar of my shirt, a blush creeping up my neck.

My dad scoffed, finally breaking his silence. "Sure, you could say that." He commented rudely, sipping on his drink. Elijah looked angry like he wanted to bite back, but I stopped him, shaking my head. No need to make a scene.

"Foods done," Catherine said, grabbing the pot and setting it on the table. To my delight, it was spaghetti and meatballs. My mouth watered. Cathy put on some quiet music as we all sat, me in between Elijah and my dad. It was deliberate on my part. We all began filling our plates, bread, and salad being passed around. Elijah recapped Catherine's glass of wine before pouring me a glass.

"Thanks," I said, in between chews of spaghetti. I washed it down with the bitter red wine, smacking my lips together with a wince afterward.

"So Cathy, honey." My mom said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "What are you thinking about the theme of your wedding? You could do like rustic, or modern, I had a cousin in Washington that did a bohemian theme—"