I had not seen Elijah or Catherine in a week, thus saving me from harrowing guilt and grief. I was lonely, which was new to me, but it was easier to deal with than everything else going wrong in my life. After the night we spent together in the tent, I woke up to find him gone. I started to feel like everything that happened was a dream. The tent, the drunken sex, Ricky, all of it. And since Elijah wasn't there to prove those things were real, I started to believe it, distance myself from it. I tried to tell myself it was for the best, that maybe he had realized that too. But deep down I wanted him, more than anything in the world. And it killed me.
Today would break my week-long silence streak, Catherine demanding I come to her apartment for a family dinner. Mom and Dad would be there, so would Elijah. Yippy skippy. I couldn't handle sitting there and watching him pretend to be happy with her. To kiss her and touch her, so innocently, not like how he touched me. Everything between them felt very PG-13, and it kind of made me feel better. I knew it couldn't have been like that all the time, but at least while I was around. I thought back to a time where all I could think about was meth, and now my mind was plagued with Elijah. An equally unhealthy and foul habit.
I showered and tried to dress nicely, opting for a pair of black jeans that didn't have holes in them. My hair was pulled back, light brown strands framing my carved cheekbones. But even though I was clean, I still felt dirty, grimacing at myself in the mirror before leaving. I crossed the street, wet from the earlier rain, before walking into The Barb, making my way upstairs. I didn't bother to knock before stepping in, taking my coat off, and hanging it on the hook. My parents sat at the island, nursing some drinks while Elijah cooked. Of course, he can cook. I sure as hell know Catherine can't.
She stood behind him, talking to Mom and Dad, smiling away like everything was grand. She wore a tight-fit dress, hugging her curves, the blue color accentuating her wavy blond hair. I suddenly felt extremely underdressed, looking to Elijah to see him wearing a blue button-up and black pants, matchy matchy with wifey. He was the first one to notice me, my eyes trailing down to his chest to see skin exposed through open buttons. He didn't say anything for too long, clutching a wooden spoon in a white-knuckled grip. Luckily, Cathy turned around, breaking the awkward stare.
"Kit! I didn't even hear you come in." She always spoke with such surprise upon seeing me, like she had expected me to be dead by now.
"You call, I come," I said, my hands falling to my sides expressively. "Per usual."
"Come sit." My mom said, patting the stool next to her, the one Elijah had sat in when—
I went and sat down, my eyes widening, waiting for someone to say something.
"You look nice." Cathy complimented me genuinely.
"Yeah, I didn't realize the dress-code was business formal." I looked around.
Catherine made a gesture that said, oh relax, before turning around to Elijah, whispering something in his ear with her hand on his back.
She took over at the stove and he turned to me.
"How do you take your coffee, Kit?" He asked.
I was surprised at his attention, shrinking under his dark gaze. "I don't know, uh, with a lot of cream and sugar?"
He suppressed a smile, his eyes twinkling. They actually twinkled.
"I could've guessed that." He claimed, turning back around and grabbing me a cup.
"Let me guess, you drink yours black?" I asked him.
He chuckled. "Yes."
I rolled my eyes.
He bobbed his head, turning around and handing me my coffee. I tasted it cautiously, it wasn't nearly sweet enough, who did he think I was?
"Good?" He wondered, giving me a thumbs up.
I smacked my lips. "No."
He grinned, going to grab it but I stopped him, putting a hand over the mug.
"It's fine," I admitted. He nodded through a laugh, turning back to the stove, tending to whatever he was cooking there. It smelled really fucking good.
How was he always so cheeky? It was honestly infuriating. We were supposed to be upset with each other, but he just seemed happy to see me. It made this ten times harder than it already was. I wish he would just be mean to me, ignore me. I didn't think it was in his nature.
My mom turned to me, her eyes lighting up in question. "So how was camping, Kit? I heard you got rained out."
"Yeah," I scratched the back of my neck at the memory. "It was fun."
"That's it? Just fun."
I squinted at her suspiciously. "Yeah, I mean, what else?"
She shrugged. "You and Elijah have some bonding time?"
I looked at him with his back turned to me.
"Sure," I answered nervously.
Catherine slapped her hands on the counter in front of me.
"Did you know," she started, sounding kind of wine drunk, "that Elijah can play the guitar? Oh, and sing? He's really good too."
Elijah looked over his shoulder at her, and I swear he was blushing. "Come on, Cat. Don't tell him that, he'll make fun of me."
"Really?" I said, drawing out the word. "Interesting."
"It's really not," he laughed, "don't ask me to play you something."
I raised my hands in surrender. "I wouldn't subject myself to that kind of torture."
"See?" He pointed his spoon at Cathy. "I told you."
She laughed girlishly, hugging onto his arm. "Come on, baby. Play us something later. Please."
"No." He said in a way that was humorous yet final.
My mom hummed to herself like she was drinking in the sight of this. "It's nice that you and Kit are friends, Elijah. Not everyone can put up with my sons' endless sarcasm."
Elijah smiled at her sincerely. "I think it's one of his best qualities."
I pulled on the collar of my shirt, a blush creeping up my neck.
My dad scoffed, finally breaking his silence. "Sure, you could say that." He commented rudely, sipping on his drink. Elijah looked angry like he wanted to bite back, but I stopped him, shaking my head. No need to make a scene.
"Foods done," Catherine said, grabbing the pot and setting it on the table. To my delight, it was spaghetti and meatballs. My mouth watered. Cathy put on some quiet music as we all sat, me in between Elijah and my dad. It was deliberate on my part. We all began filling our plates, bread, and salad being passed around. Elijah recapped Catherine's glass of wine before pouring me a glass.
"Thanks," I said, in between chews of spaghetti. I washed it down with the bitter red wine, smacking my lips together with a wince afterward.
"So Cathy, honey." My mom said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "What are you thinking about the theme of your wedding? You could do like rustic, or modern, I had a cousin in Washington that did a bohemian theme—"
It was around then that I stopped listening, completely tuning them out.
"It's very good, Elijah." My dad complimented with a satisfied grunt.
"Thank you." He nodded, looking at me. "What do you think?"
I shrugged. "Good." It was really fucking good, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of an overzealous compliment. Wasn't my style.
He smiled as I shoved more into my mouth, sauce sliding down my chin.
"Chris, don't be a pig." My dad scolded me like I was a child.
"I'm sorry, what?" I said, swallowing before wiping my chin. "I don't know who that is."
He gave me a dangerous look, one filled with hatred. Damn, I didn't know it was that deep. He slapped his napkin down on the table before standing.
"I'm going to the bathroom." He said before turning and walking down the hall.
"Fun guy," Elijah said, thumbing behind him. "Your dad."
I snorted. "Oh yeah. He's a hoot."
I looked over at him, watching him drink his wine, licking the residue off his lips. I clenched my teeth, his eyes grazing Cathy before making their way to me.
"Hm?" He raised his eyebrows at me as I watched his adam's apple bob in his throat.
"My eyes are up here." He whispered with a smirk.
"Fuck you," I replied, not really knowing why. It just kind of slipped out.
He guffawed loudly, alerting the others.
"What's funny, babe?" Catherine asked, turning away from Mom.
He held her hand, a distraction tactic.
"Nothing." He shook his head, giving her a sweet look. She smiled, taking his hand down to her lap, holding it there. I scrunched my nose before turning back to my food. The conversation about wedding themes continued, my father, coming back and sitting. I started getting tense, watching Elijah's hand in hers, my stomach churning. I stared off into nothing, my mind replaying the events that led up to now. Remembering how it felt to have his hands on me, his mouth and tongue exploring my body. It was a wildly inappropriate time to be thinking about that, but it was like I couldn't help it. Not with him sitting so close to me.
I tried my hardest to keep my expression neutral as I thought about him, how he looked and sounded. How he tasted. I bit the inside of my lip, seeing and hearing it so vividly. My heart started to race faster as blood rushed to my groin, making me shift in my seat. God, what the fuck do I do now? I began to bounce my knee, clearly getting antsy and agitated. I downed the rest of my glass as if that would help, terrified that all my thoughts were displayed on my face.
Just relax, Kit. Think about something else.
I tried to clear my mind, and it was just beginning to work when I felt a hand touch my knee, stilling it. I didn't dare look down, my breath getting caught in my throat. Elijah glanced at me before immediately looking away, a smirk growing on his face.
Was I sweating? I felt like I was sweating.
His hand crept up to my thigh, squeezing it gently. I exhaled shakily, looking to see my family completely engrossed in conversation. His hand traveled further, inching closer to my growing erection. No, no, no, this is wrong.
My hand flew down to his, prohibiting it from going any further, my palms sweaty. His dark eyes darted down to my lap. He could've pulled away, but he remained there, his fingers gripping mine. I breathed heavily, so aroused and riled from just holding his hand. The burning in my gut intensified to the point of pain. God, the things Elijah could do to me.
We sat like that for a minute, my hand over his, before I took it away, permitting him to do whatever he wanted. It was like a loss of control, my body deciding before my mind could catch up.
I took a massive breath as his hand moved again, sliding over my hard cock. I twitched, him gripping and rubbing me over my pants, pleasure shooting through me at each touch. Oh my god, it felt so wrongfully good. Why is he doing this? Why am I letting him do this?
Fuck, I didn't care. I bit down on my lip, lowering my face into the crook of my elbow. My expression contorted to one of heat, trying to hide it. But Elijah saw, our eyes meeting fleetingly, his face flushed and lips opening. He kneaded my cock with a strong and desperate hand, feeling its length, grazing his thumb over the tip. My legs twitched again and this time I breathed a whine, my body going rigid. It felt so good and I grew so desperate, grinding against his hand. I couldn't keep still, my body begging for a release that wouldn't come. I wasn't going to finish at the table with my parents.
Fuck, what the fuck was I doing?
But Elijah didn't stop, his fingers climbing to the button of my jeans, eager to pull my cock out.
"What do you think, Kit?" Catherine asked before turning around to face me.
In an instant Elijah recoiled, his hand flying back to his side. My heart soared into my throat as I hid my face in my hands.
"Should we do the white dress or the—" her expression changed quickly. "Woah, you don't look so good, you okay?"
"What? Yeah, yeah, what was the question?" I wiped the sweat from my brow, words projecting from my numb lips.
She looked like she didn't believe me, her eyes suspicious. "T-the white dress, or the black one?" She held up pictures. "I'm thinking we could do a sexy fifties type vibe."
I sniffed, genuinely not being able to give less of a fuck. "Black, white's boring."
"That's what I said!" Cathy claimed, turning to my mom triumphantly.
"White's classic though." My mom pleaded. "You're gonna regret doing something different ten years from now, looking at your wedding photos."
"Why don't you ask your husband what he thinks?" My dad inquired, looking at Elijah.
"What do you think, babe?" She asked him, holding up the pictures.
He gave her a strange look, his face still red. "I don't care."
Oops, he fucked up.
"What do you mean you don't care?" She questioned harshly. "You don't care about our wedding?"
"That's not what I meant, babe. I just meant you'd look beautiful in either." Nice save, Elijah.
"It's your wedding too, I want it to be something you like." She held onto his arm like this was a point she needed to get through to him.
"Fine, what Kit said." He gestured to me sideways.
"You're just agreeing with him because you don't want to give it any thought." She complained in a whiny tone.
Someone remind me to keep wine away from my sister. "Relax, bridezilla." I raised a hand defensively.
"Hey!" She shouted.
"Alright alright, stop fighting." My mom cut in, saving me from an attack. "You guys are just like you were as teenagers."
I rolled my eyes.
"Maybe it's time to call it a night, yeah?" Elijah told more than asked, helping her to her feet.
"Yeah, it's getting late, we'd better hit the road." My dad said, hugging Cathy, my mom following after. He walked right past me and to the door. Whatever. My mom drew in for a hug, holding it longer than expected.
"Be good." She whispered in my ear. It was meant as an open-ended statement but it sounded more ominous to me like she meant something by it.
I decided to ignore it. "Always am," I said, her pinching my cheek as she left.
Elijah shook their hands, saying their final goodbyes as the door clicked shut behind them. Cathy went to the bathroom, taking off her makeup and brushing her teeth. Getting ready for bed. I took that as my cue to leave.
"I guess I'll be going now," I said, barely being able to take a step before Elijah took my hand, stopping me.
"Stay," he whispered closely, pulling me to him. I made a sound of protest, not knowing what exactly we could do here with Cathy around. His hands traveled down my sides before he pressed into me, our hips flush together. I felt the incessant burning in my pants, chuckling slightly, argumentative.
"No," I said, planting my hands on his chest.
He frowned, his brow worrying. "Why?" He pouted, hands venturing around to my ass, gripping it firmly. I sucked in a breath against my will, feeling his fingers dig into me.
"I've been needing to see you." His eyes went soft.
I scoffed. "I think you're drunk."
His expression was minorly offended. "I'm not drunk, I just want you."
I don't know how the hell we got here, needing and wanting each other. Whenever either of us had the desire we'd act on it, only to go back to radio silence afterward.
"I meant what I said, Elijah. I mean what the fuck was that at the table? Do you get off on doing it in front of Catherine? Cause that's some freaky incest shit I'm not down for."
"Of course not," he pulled back, only slightly. "Is that what you think of me?"
"I don't know what to think." I bristled, not being able to look him in the eye. I seriously considered bringing up Noah, spilling my guts to him about what I discovered. But now was not the time, not with Cathy in the other room.
"I'm sorry if what I did earlier was too far for you." He apologized sincerely. "I just wanted to touch you, it wasn't about Cat being there. When will we ever have the opportunity? She's always around."
He said it in a way that made Cathy sound like such a nuisance to him, and I felt both guilty and boastful at the same time. It just confused me even more. If Elijah claimed to love my sister, how did he feel about me?
"I think we should stop," I said, stepping away from him fully. "Continuing like this is only going to hurt me." It was a strike of honesty that surprised me.
His expression fell. "I'm not trying to hurt you." He said.
I swallowed. "I know," but you are.
He could read my face, something he was very good at, and know everything I was thinking. It made it too hard to hide from him. To hide what I really wanted. He sighed, nodding to himself.
"If that's what you really want, Kit." He said with a certain finality that scared me. Like he was serious this time. "If that's what you really want, then okay. I'll leave you alone. I promise."
I clenched my teeth, my eyes stinging. "It's what I want," I lied shakily.
He crossed his arms over his chest, stepping out of the way of the door.
"Okay," the word was stoic and hard like he had shut down.
We heard the bathroom door creak open and Catherine step out. She was putting her hair up, looking at us through squinty eyes. "What's going on?"
I wondered how we looked standing there. Only a few feet apart but it felt like the ocean was between us. The air was tense and hostile. Catherine had to of felt it.
"I was just leaving," I said, slipping past Elijah and to the door.
"Oh, okay." She waved at me jovially. "See you later."
"Yeah, see you." I didn't look up at her as I threw my jacket on, bracing for the outside world. Elijah looked at me like this was the last time he was going to see me, a sad, fake smile playing on his lips.
"Elijah?" Catherine questioned in a way that was harsh. "You coming?" She held out her hand, beckoning him.
"Yeah," he advanced on her, taking her hand in his own.
That was the last thing I saw as I opened the door and left.