Elijah McCay and Me

Vol. 2: Nine

     My throat dries, "u-um, I don't know. Maybe?"

     Jeremiah doesn't say anything too quickly, which I'm hoping is a sign that he's collecting all of thoughts to come up with an uncomplicated and thought-out response.

     "Good," he says lowly, that same old heat coming up the base of my neck. The same crook that Elijah's fingers had been caressing ever so softly not even an hour ago. The memory has me completely forgetting that Jeremiah is on the other line, flirting his way into my dorm room. "Because I was thinking the same thing."

     He snaps me out of daydream as quickly as I had drifted off. I clear my throat, a little embarrassed, "alright then," I press, "you could come over if you want? Or I could come back to your place."

     "No, that's okay. I'll come over to your place. My, um—the house is completely packed right now." I frown a little. Why would the frat house be packed if most people on campus had midterms the next morning? Didn't fraternity's have rules about stuff like that?

     I don't mention my doubts, not wanting to pry in on his houses rules. Something I didn't really know the first thing about. "Okay, well, it's settled then. You'll come here."

     "Yeah, just text me the building and dorm you're in," he says smoothly, a clear smile being heard through his words, "unless you don't live on campus?"

     "No, I do. I'll send you the address." The nerves practically flow out of me when those few words are said. I wait for them to come back, but they don't. I think back to the night we first spent together, and there weren't any nerves then either.

     "Alright, then—I'm on my way."

Once the call is ended, I practically sprint up from my seat at my desk chair, fumbling toward my closet to find an acceptable pair of pajamas. I flip through shirt after shirt, not finding one that screams subtle yet sexy—when was the last time I went shopping?

I briefing remember my mother nagging me to buy a few more outfits when I left home, but I didn't ever think I'd actually need them.

Shit.

I pull out a white muscle shirt that was mostly see-through, and easy to pull on and off—that should work—followed by a pair of grey sweatpants that I'd had hidden in the back of my closet since my days in Wayland.

Reaching for the towel hanging on the back of my closet door, I slip into Jeremy and I's shared restroom, switching on the lukewarm water. I carefully filtered a finger down the stream of vast water, seeing if it were either too hot or cold.

After my shower, I tie the towel around my waist, ruffling my unruly curls with another. Just then, my cellphone buzzes.

I reach over, reading the short message.

Here. Then another, I'm coming up.

I don't waste any more time trying to dry the remnants of my torso, merely pulling on the muscle shirt, which ironically wouldn't be serving its purpose very well because of lack of muscle. As much I said I didn't miss baseball—I did miss the way it'd help keep my body in check.

Just as I'm pulling a pair of socks up my legs, a knock is echoing throughout the empty hallway of my building, delving into my room.

A deep breath courses through my taut lungs as I pull open the door, watching as Jeremiah's handsome face comes into view. He's dressed similarly to me, only instead of a tank top, he's sporting a sweatshirt.

One particularly similar to the one Elijah had been wearing all night.

"You gonna let me in?" My cheeks flush in embarrassment after realizing that I've been rudely staring.

I step aside, hastily pulling in, "oh, yeah, of course—come in."

Jeremiah steps through the doorway, his plain sneakers leaving dirk marks on the carpet. I resist the urge to ask him to take off his shoes before taking another step. Jeremy's going to be so pissed I let someone get our carpet dirty. Not that I could really blame him.

Not much time is wasted after he's walked in behind me. His arms circle around me, caging me into the nearest wall. My head nearly scuffs a shelf nailed into it. "It's really good to see you again."

My hands find his shoulders, gently rubbing the fabric of his sweatshirt, "yeah?" After I speak, his arms hold onto my waist firmly, as though he's worried I'm gonna walk away.

"Like really, really good." He whispers lowly.

He pushes me further into the wall, and I gasp. On the lower halves of our bodies, I can feel just how excited he is about seeing me. "I can see—well, feel that."

Jeremiah smirks, clearly proud of himself for whatever reason. The air gets thicker and more uncomfortable as the seconds go by, so I try and speed up the process by any means necessary. He's here for one reason and one reason only.

"Hey," I hold onto his sweatshirt, "can we just like, do this already? It's getting late and I have a midterm in the morning." His face shows slight disappointment, but nonetheless, he agrees.

He leans down to place a solid kiss onto my lips, the two of us finding a pace that's much quicker than the one at his party. His fingers rub circles into my waist, while mine find the roots of his strands of dark and tug.

At the gesture, Jeremiah leans back and begins to kiss open mouthed pecks down my neck.

It was going to be a long night.