VOL. 2: CHAPTER EIGHT
The get-together, as Elijah kept calling it, was much busier and much more crowded than I thought it would be. I hold my red plastic cup of water in close to my chest, careful not to bump into anyone walking passed me.
After I parked my car in a relatively close slot to where the party would be held, I had found Elijah rather quickly, the two of us pushing our way into the crowded shack-like house. But now—Elijah was nowhere to be seen and I was sitting all alone on the side of the home.
Out of the closest window to me, I could clearly make out the bonfire that I kept hearing about, and little by little, the house was beginning to empty. Most people abandoning the boring inside of the home to go watch the lively fire burning on the empty road ahead.
I leaned my head against the solid stone wall behind me, adjusting my bottom that was placed on the bench. Desperately searching the crowd for anyone I knew, my smile widened when I finally found a familiar face.
Jeremiah turned to me, those full lips widening with warmth. My cheeks flushed once the memories of our night spent together resurfaced.
He jogged over toward me and away from the small group of friends he'd been entertaining, the same old cup I held in my hands, also held in his. His full head of dark hair flopped whenever he took another step, my stomach beginning to turn.
When he took the spot beside me, I turned to him, a cheeky smile taking part. "I had no idea you'd be here."
He chuckles, a bright set of teeth seeming glisten throughout the dark backside of the home. "I didn't expect to see you here, either," he spoke truthfully, pale brown eyes finding mine and pinning them without shame. "Not that I'm complaining."
"Yeah, it's uh . . . It's nice to see you again after we," my words trail off while I pull on my bottom lip with my teeth, deeply impaling the skin. Jeremiah's eyes stray from mine then and venture down to the now punctured skin. His jaw tightens in what looks like remembrance. "Well, you know."
He gives a solid nod, "yeah, I know."
I try and repress the memories of when he and I spent the night together, but they come spiraling back with force. "So, what are you doing here? I mean, I didn't really expect to run into you."
"My, uh—one of my friends lives in the house with a few of our other friends, so she invited me." His words come out a little shaky and a little unfamiliar. Like he isn't even sure of what he's saying.
I blame it on whatever alcohol he's probably consumed tonight.
"Oh," I begin, a shy smile breaking onto my face, "I didn't know we had so many mutual friends. I actually came with my close friend, E—"
"Jeremiah!" A voice calls out from beside the two of us, a boy I don't recognize coming barreling toward the two of us with an extra beer in hand. He hands it to Jeremiah with a short smirk, watching as his already tipsy friend begins to chug it back.
I stand from the bench when I notice them diving right into comfortable conversation, the boy I was talking to obviously forgetting my presence all-together. Not that I particularly blame them, though. I knew that I had the overbearing tendency to get quiet whenever I was in an unfamiliar situation.
It was a habit I'd been harboring since I was just a little kid, and my only real friend was Rick. Rick. Just saying his name aloud in his my head had my heart twinging in slight pain.
I missed my best friend.
My languid legs carried me back into the house that was nearly empty now. The only people who seemed to be inhabiting the small space was Elijah and a few familiar faces here and there. But none that I'd gotten the chance to actually speak to.
When Elijah spots me carefully making my way over toward him, he smiles a small smile, patting the empty seat on the couch beside him. I return the kind grin, not wasting another moment.
When I've settled down next to him, he leans back into his seat and tossed his arm around the back of mine. Instant goosebumps cradle the back of my already heated neck. "Where were you?" He whispers lowly.
My ear twitches at the his close tone, "I saw someone that I recognized outside," my response was honest but still earned a sideways glance from him. I knew he was wondering how I'd even met anyone he knew. I roll my eyes, "you left me out there, remember?"
"Oh, please," he chuckles humorlessly, "I turned my back for one second and you left."
I don't bother saying anything else, knowing that it isn't worth it to keep arguing over something that didn't even matter. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. Especially since we got back in touch. I say something he doesn't like, he says something I don't like, and then we're passive aggressive for the rest of the night.
We delve into an uncomfortable silence, merely listening in on the conversations being had around us. Elijah's friends who surrounded us seemed nice enough. As I observed them all one-by-one, I wondered how he'd met each other them, how long they'd been friends, and if he was closer to some than others.
One of them, a girl with strikingly short hair who went by the name of Fiona, turned to me with a polite smile after noticing that I wasn't saying much. "Hey," she jutted out a hand, "I'm Fiona Danvers, and you're . . ."
I didn't blame her for not knowing my name, "I'm Gage."
"Oh! Right, right," she says, running a hand through her ruffed strands of dark hair, "you and Elijah are friends?" I laugh a little at her question because I'm sure at first glance we don't seem very compatible. But with his arm practically guarding the back of my seat, it's a given that we're close.
"Yeah," In the corner of my peripheral, I can see Elijah's head turn over to us after hearing his name. "We went to high school together."
It felt a little weird to say that because we had only gone to the same school for a year, but for now, it sufficed. "That's pretty cool," she giggled, holding a red plastic cup to her chest, "he never really talks about his glory days down in the suburbs."
"They weren't that glorious." Elijah mumbles.
My stomach sinks a bit when I realize that he's hinting at the loss of his mother. Without a second thought, my hand instinctively reaches out and finds his knee, planting itself there. He doesn't flinch, he doesn't move, he doesn't speak. His eyes merely find mine, his expression one I can't recognize.
Fiona's voice is drowned out by the music playing lightly in the background and the heat coming off of Elijah's green eyes that have always had such a hold on me.
His hand that was once planted firmly on the back of my headrest, is now reaching for the back of my neck, softly massaging the skin there. It's only then that I realize we still haven't broken eye contact yet.
Fiona isn't talking anymore, at least not to us. She's engaged in another discussion with the person to her left. This leaves Elijah to shamelessly caress the nape of my neck, while my fingers dig into his knee.
"Did you drink tonight?" He breaks the silence, voice timid yet daring. His fingers next stop their gentle assault, now making their course toward my reddening ear.
I shake my head, no, watching as he takes my answer without another thought. "Good, because I didn't wanna have to drag your ass out of here if you were drunk."
My chest shakes in light laughter, "I've never been that drunk before. And I don't think I'll be starting tonight—especially if I don't have a trusted designated driver."
"You can't trust me now?" His words are playful, light, something they weren't even just twenty minutes ago. An unexplainable warmth spreads throughout my chest.
My fingers finally loosen their grip on his knee, coming up to bop him on the nose. He scrunches his face after my actions. "Nope."
"You're full of shit, Gage."
I giggle, before reaching into my pocket to retrieve my cellphone. My eyes narrow down at the time. "Oh, shit," Elijah does the same, groaning when realizing that it's well past midnight now. "I've gotta get going. I have a stupid midterm in the morning."
He hums, eyes flicking from his cellphone and back to my face. "Me too."
Elijah stands just then, stuffing the small device into the back pocket of his jeans. He pushes out his hand, offering it to me as though I need help standing. "Come on—let's get you to your car."