The Art of You

27 | No More Hiding

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York."

"I just got back."

"I see that."

Not wanting him to see my disdain, I walked to the following empty table and began cleaning. He moved with me, sliding into the same booth. His presence was agonizing, his eyes boring into the side of my head. I curled my toes in my shoes to keep my cheeks from glowing red and did not make eye contact.

"I heard you were looking for me earlier," he said.

"Yeah, it was how I found out you were in New York."

"I have been working through some things."

A blunt laugh rippled out of me. I did not know where this sudden surge of anger was coming from, but it was rolling out of me in waves, and I could not find a way to reel it back in. Maybe it was his smugness provoking it.

"I have to work."

"Your shift is over in"—he checked his watch on his wrist—"Nine minutes. Let me take you home."

I glanced around the restaurant as if people were listening to our conversation or my boss could see us talking. However, nobody was left except for Elijah and a couple of lingering customers.

"I drove here."

"Let's drive back to your place or mine."

The push and pull between wanting to stay annoyed and finally talking things out with him were irritating. I knew the latter was the better option, the one I had woken up planning on doing today. My newfound annoyance was probably the new mask for my old fear.

I waited for a beat to reply, then picked up the dirty-dish bin. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

I hustled to the back room. My manager let me clock out early, and I quickly looked myself over in the bathroom before heading to the parking lot where Elijah was waiting. He leaned against his car, parked directly beside mine, with folded arms as the ocean breeze blew his clothes awry. When he noticed me coming, he stood straight.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"I know we have a lot of talking to do. Do you want to come to my place or yours?"

Without thinking, I blurted, "Yours."

"Okay. Follow me there?"

I nodded. We walked side-by-side to my car, and our swinging hands brushed against each other but never connected. He opened my car door and did not try to kiss me goodbye as I climbed in. Instead, he tapped the hood and told me to drive safely.

I followed him through the winding roads, gripping the steering wheel strong enough that my bruised knuckles turned red. Shit, this was happening.

Before driving to his house this morning, I built enough courage for our conversation. Still, when I discovered he was gone, all of it dissipated into thin air. Now, I was grappling to find it again.

The house lights were off when we got out of our cars. There was no music, no sign of life, and no cars in the driveway.

"The guys are out at the bars, so we have the house to ourselves." Elijah read my mind as we walked to the front door. "We can talk in my room or the living room. Wherever you are more comfortable."

"It doesn't matter."

He stared at me for a beat, studying my face.

He twisted his key and pushed it into the foyer without another word. Kicking off his shoes, he flicked the light switch on. The house was a mess, and I assumed it was because Elijah was gone for a couple of days and probably was the roommate who kept things clean.