make you stay (g.d.)

seventeen

grayson:

ethan's been suspicious of where i've been going lately, but i've been telling him that i just have a creative writing class.

it makes me feel like a horrible brother, but if i told him i was hanging out with a girl, he'd demand to meet her.

and what happens when he sees it's elizabeth?
all hell will break loose in this condo.

"hi," she says with a vibrant smile as she slides into my passenger seat. "sorry i smell like fruit or coffee. i spilled a lot of stuff on me at my shift, and changing out of my work clothes didn't help a ton."

i picked her up straight outside of the cafe after her night shift so we could go directly to the next stop. this one i think is the place, i can feel it.

i glance down at her outfit, which is a lot less revealing than the one a few days ago. i knocked a whole smoothie off the counter because i wasn't expecting it. it's not like it was stripper attire or anything, but it was enough to catch me off guard.

"i like the smell of coffee," i shrug, and she turns to me as i back out.

"you're a hot coffee kinda guy, aren't you?" she asks teasingly.

i smile. "yeah. with creamer."

"i like iced cold brew. no creamer."

"wow i wish i was as mature as you," i say sarcastically, which makes her laugh.

"where're we going tonight?" she asks.

i debate telling her, because i'm just that excited. but then i decide against it.

i lock my lips with an imaginary key, and pretend to throw it in the backseat.

elizabeth smiles. "i really can't thank you enough for helping me with this," she says.

i turn to glance at her for a split second, then i focus my eyes on the road again. "it's what i'm here for, i guess."

"i'm glad you found me in the cafe."

a wave of heat runs through my body, and i can't tell if it's excitement or nerves. most likely both.
"really? but i thought you said on the plane—"

"i said a lot of things on the plane," she cuts in. "most of which i realize i didn't mean."

"except for the love thing," i state.

she hesitates. "except for the love thing, yes."

"has your dad tried to contact you?" i ask to change the subject. i just end up getting hurt when we talk about her disbelief in love.

"um, he tried. once. but i blocked him on everything, didn't tell him where i am, nothing. so he shouldn't be able to find me, hopefully."

i look at her. "he won't."

she nods slowly and i focus my attention back on driving.

"grayson?" she asks after a few minutes.

"yeah?"

"tell me a secret."

"a secret?" i ask.

she smiles lazily. "yeah. i won't tell."

"can i trust you?" i say, more of an instinct. i don't tell people a lot of my secrets, and when i do, that's the first thing out of my mouth.

her smile wavers, and settles into a frown. "you don't already?"

"of course i do," i say quickly. "it was just... habit speaking."

she nods, but doesn't ask for me to tell.
and that may be a good thing, because i had a secret in mind, but i don't think she would've wanted to hear it.

after a little bit more of driving, i pull into the parking lot of a lake house duplex.

"why're we here?" she asks.

"tonight's thing is... different than what you might be thinking."

she raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask anymore questions when i take two sharpies, two deflated balloons, and two glass plates from my backseat.

the beach of the lake is rocky, and i see elizabeth lean down to pick one up as we walk to the water.

"this is an exercise i call, 'release and manifest'." i explain.

she nods. "so, what am i supposed to do with this plate?"

"write everything down on it. anything that comes to your mind, write it down. secrets, regrets, past relationships, anything negative. but only on the plate. the balloon will come later."

she nods and i hand her a black, thick sharpie. we sit down on the least rocky part of the beach by the lake, and the sound and smell of sharpies fills the air.

i write a lot on mine.

i write about how sometimes i feel like ethan will always be better than me, or how i hate that sometimes i don't always let myself be the best person i can be. i write that my emotions always work before my brain, and that i wish i sometimes didn't wear my heart on my sleeve.

but, then i write some funny regrets and secrets:

i wish i didn't get ethan that potato flinger for our 11th birthday.

i wish i didn't wear spider-man underwear that one time in third grade when miles rogues gave me a wedgie.

i wish i didn't have an instagram account when i was 12 about the books i was reading.

after i fill up an entire side of the plate, i sneak a glance at elizabeth. she's writing ferociously, and i see a slight reflection in her eyes, and a red nose.

she's crying.

i don't say anything, because i know she's not one to cry at everything. when she does, it's a special moment.

instead, i only imagine what she could possibly be writing.