The Art of You

15 | Volunteer

    He put the car in park. "There is a party inside right now."

    My face faltered, and every neuron in my body lit up like lightning. Oh, no, no, no. How did I forget they throw parties after their games? The entire team and their groupies are going to think I'm nuts walking into a party wearing this.

    "I can't." I glanced at my black dress, feeling incredibly insecure. "I'm practically dressed for homecoming and you look like..." I waved my hands at him. "Like that!"

    He cackled. "I think you look great."

    "Stop being nice to me. I can't go in there, Elijah."

    "How about I sneak you to my bedroom and give you a change of clothes?"

    I blinked. Sneak me up to his bedroom? Wear his clothes? 

    "Or," he continued. "I can bring you clothes and you can change in the car."

    Rubbing my forehead, I stared at my reflection in the window. My boobs had fallen out of place, the alcohol had made me bloat, and I had to pee. It would be too awkward to ask Elijah to take me home now, so I sighed. I was going to need another drink.

    "What do you say?"

    "Okay, fine. I'll change in your room, though."

    He cracked a smile and hopped out of the car. We walked to the front door and I prayed everyone was in the backyard or basement. To my luck, nobody was inside, but I could feel the vibration of music emanating from somewhere in the house.

    Elijah stayed a step ahead, guiding me to the same staircase he and Jayce argued on.

    When we reached the second floor, my heart thumped wildly in my chest. It's not like we were going into his room to make out, but seeing the space where he slept felt intimate enough. I didn't think I'd be back here so soon, let alone at all.

    I followed him to the end of the hall. "This is my room," he said, digging a key out of his pocket. The neighboring door creaked open, and I stepped behind Elijah, swaying.

    Brant waltzed out, fixing his shirt. He looked our way, surprised to see us as a girl scurried out of the room. She winked at Brant and smoothed out her I-was-railed hair before heading downstairs. Elijah and I glanced at one another knowingly.

    "Oh, hey, Sadie!" Brant beamed. "You look very nice."

    I stared at the dress I forgot I was wearing. "Thank you, Brant. So do you."

    He pretended to be overjoyed by my compliment. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight. Elijah said you—"

    "Plans changed," Elijah interrupted, turning his doorknob. "We'll see you downstairs, Brant."

    Elijah grabbed my hand, pulled me into his bedroom, and closed the door behind us. I didn't have time to think about how his hand felt in mine because he let go the second we were inside and went straight to his closet.

    His room was unapologetically himself.

    The walls were forest green, his comforter grey and neatly made. A mixture of music and sports posters decorated the walls and on his desk was a sketchbook and a cup of pencils. If I thought his scent was strong in the car, it was one-hundred times stronger in here.

    And to top it all off, the string of LED lights lined the perimeter of the ceiling.

    "I can give you a sweatshirt. Do you want sweatpants or shorts? It's kind of cold for shorts, but if we stayed inside, you could wear shorts. It's up to you." His words were muffled by his head being in his closet. "Or a tee-shirt?"