Elijah McCay and Me

Vol. 2: Seventeen

Even when I have no idea what was funny.

An hour or so later I'm nearly falling asleep, head lulling off to the side every few moments.

Elijah pauses the movie, turns and whispers a soft, "I'm sorry."

I blink the sleep from my eyes, focusing in on him. He appears genuinely apologetic and even a little ashamed of our spat earlier. He's not alone in the fact. "It's okay," I whisper back. "I'm sorry too—I know you're just trying to be there for me and I make it really difficult sometimes."

He sighs heavily, head thumping backward on his wooden headboard. "You don't. You're just . . . so guarded for some reason."

I bury my face into the crook of my elbow, heart clenching for what seems like the millionth time tonight. "You really don't know why I'm so guarded around you? Why I push you away?"

He doesn't say anything. I guess he does know after all.

"I want to know you again, Gage," Elijah admits with a serious edge to his tone. "I want us to be, I don't know—close again? It kinda really sucked not talking for so long. And I know I'm partially to blame too. I just—I just wasn't sure the timing was right yet."

You mean you weren't sure if I was over you yet.

Well, I am so not. Ugh.

"I get it," my voice is nearly a whisper, "but hey—look at us now. I mean, I'm in your apartment wearing your clothes. I'm not sure how much closer we get from here as friends." I laugh, sending Elijah into a chuckle as well.

My cheeks heat at the sound, two front teeth nibbling down on my bottom lip.

Elijah refocuses on the movie, chest deflating in a gentle sigh. I watch as he gets comfortable, scooting a bit closer to me and wrapping us in a large comforter.

I can feel the sleep wanting to wash over me and envelop me. I allow myself to drift, succumbing to the pleasant voices coming from the movie.

-

The next morning comes all too quickly, and with lightning quickness, I'm dressing in a hurry and having to leave Elijah's apartment before he gets back from his morning run. In the heat of my night with him, I'd forgotten to set all of my alarms which usually have me awake before 7:30 a.m.

That was not the case this morning.

This morning, I'd rolled off of Elijah's couch and looked at my phone to find out that it was well past 9:00 a.m. This meant that I had missed my first class of the day, and would have to borrow class materials from anyone willing to lend it.

I sat at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria during my lunch, trying to copy down the guide questions I'd gotten from my professor in my second class, who happened to be nice enough to email them to me.

My phone buzzed, and I reached into the front pocket of my hoodie for it.

Rick: it's happening!

I furrowed my eyebrows down at my phone, trying to figure out what my best friend was bothering me about in the middle of the day.

Me: what exactly is happening?

His response is fast.

Rick: I'm coming to you for Thanksgiving!

I drop the pen which I was holding in my free and non-texting hand, a smile overcoming my face. I hadn't seen Rick in the longest time. At first because his dad didn't like the idea of him going back and forth between his old and new life, and now because we'd just started college.