The Art of You

18 | Are You Sure?

    "Elijah?" I called. His head appeared in the window frame, scarring me. Was he sitting on the roof?

    "Sadie?" He tore his headphones out of his ears and the singing I heard earlier stopped. "I didn't know it was you at the door. I thought it was Brant. I'm sorry." He climbed into his room.

    "It's all right, you didn't know I was coming. Jayce told me I could use the back door." I pointed behind me for some reason and then felt incredibly uncomfortable for showing up.

    "Is everything okay?" He asked.

    "Oh! Yeah, everything is fine, I was going to give you back your clothes from the other night," I said and both of our gazes dropped to my empty hands, then back to each other's faces. His stunned expression turned playful, as he could see right through my lie. "But I forgot them in my other backpack," I added, though it made me sound even more stupid.

    "I see."

    "Anyway, I'm sorry to bother you. I'll bring them..." my voice trailed off as he walked closer. Damn him for always looking that good, and damn me for not having stronger self-control.

    Since the party, I had spent countless nights contemplating what I would say to Elijah, and now that I'm standing in front of him, I was speechless. What could I say? I'd have to divulge my entire past to explain why I wouldn't be his.

    He paused inches away and reached for the hair framing my face. His fingers twirled my brown strands and my breathing hitched. "You disappeared on me." His voice was low.

    I blinked away the burning sensation in my stomach. "I was in Philadelphia with my sister," I paused. "But you didn't reply to my email."

    His hand fell to his side. "I didn't get an email."

    "Well, I emailed you."

    "And you texted Jayce," he said nonchalantly, though I could hear irritation glazing his words.

    Whatever fire blazed in my stomach increased tenfold, and I scoffed. "What?"

    "You text Jayce. I see the notifications on his phone."

    I wanted to laugh, but I bit down. "Jayce texts me."

    "Oh, that makes me feel better," he cackled that time. "Jayce texts you, and you reply."

    Where the hell was this coming from and how did we go from zero to one-hundred in less than a minute? I knew I caught him on a bad day from the way he sounded through the door earlier, but I didn't think he'd blow up on me or that we'd have this conversation.

    "Maybe I wouldn't need to text Jayce if you replied to me."

    "Maybe I'd reply if I had your number and didn't have to check my damn email." He took three steps toward me. "I don't know if you've realized, but normal people don't email."

    My chest rose and fell at a rapid pace as I stared up at him. He was so close; I felt the heat from his body emanating into mine. Call me a sadist, but his jealously turned my frustration into pure desperation.

    "Who gives a shit about Jayce?" I snapped.

    "I do! Because you give me such a hard time."

    Silence filled the room, aside from our breathing.

    "You're so fucking stubborn." He dragged a finger down my cheek, tracing my collar bone. His gaze flickered from my eyes to my lips and I squeezed my eyes shut from his touch. "Why won't you let me in?"