Madeline kept her eyes on Elijah as he drove her car, taking in every bit of him she could. That pale green in his eyes she'd never forgotten the exact shade of. They'd stood out in her memory above everything else, with their almost aqua color outline. His nearly black hair you could only tell was brown in the sunlight. The overgrown scruff on his face, bordering on beard territory. His thick eyebrows, one sitting up slightly higher than the other. The long dimples that looked more like deep smile lines.
Once she was done with the basics, she studied him for everything else. The way Elijah's lips barely moved to the lyrics playing on the radio. The way he held the steering wheel with a tight grasp, but allowed his thumb to tap against the leather. The way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. The way his eyes moved to this building or that, taking in the town he'd left long ago.
Then there were the things she wasn't meant to notice. How his free hand rubbed his thigh, or how his black t-shirt hugged his arms so perfectly, while his subtle chest hair peered out of the collar.
"I did the same thing last night," Elijah said out of nowhere.
"Huh?"
"After you fell asleep," he explained. "I took my time studying you, looking at all the things that'd changed, all the things that were the same. When we stayed up talking, there were things I paid attention to. Sounds and gestures, mostly, and to notice the big things that changed. Then you fell asleep, and I did exactly what you were doing just now. Just took my time, reveling in the fact that were next to me at all.
"I think that's why I had trouble letting you go this morning. I missed you like crazy. Every single day. You and your family were the only good thing in my life for so long. Getting to hang out with you, it made me feel like I had a normal life, even if only for a few hours a week. After I left, I wanted to write you all the time, instead of leaving just that one in your mailbox."
Plus the one she'd gotten her freshman year of high school. But that likely didn't count, as he wrote it prior to leaving. "Why didn't you?"
Elijah looked away from the road just long enough for his eyes to connect with hers when he spoke. "You know why."
She nodded, realizing she did know. "Because I would have asked you to come back."
He gave her a short nod. "And I would have, for you. But I reached a time in my life when I had to do what was best for me, and for you, whether you believe that or not. But just because I didn't write or call, doesn't mean I forgot about you.
"It was weird the things that popped into my head randomly over the years. When I realized you were officially a teenager, wondering if you'd had your first date yet, or if you were studying rather than skating through high school like I did, if you passed your driving test on the first try, if you had a date to prom, or went with a group."
Madeline smiled at the knowledge she hadn't just been a drifting thought every now and again. He'd thought about her, really thought, with actual curiosities. "And you still went outside to look at the North Star." It was one of the most treasured parts in the letter he wrote her. It was still theirs to dream on and to think about."
It was then when the widest grin she'd ever seen on his face appeared. "At least once a week. If I was going through an issue, I'd lay outside for hours staring up at it until the sun started to rise. During a really bad night, I'd make a wish, just like you do, and I'd wonder if you were staring at it the same time as me."
"The night after your dad died was the first time I let myself wish for you to come home."
His head turned as he glanced at a building, then returned to the road. The brightness in his smile dimmed a bit, and Elijah switched hands on the steering wheel to clasp their hands together. "If I asked you to do something batshit crazy with me right now, would you do it?"
Madeline narrowed her eyes on him, trying to think of what they may have just passed that'd stolen his attention so briefly. "Am I allowed to have any context?"
He shook his head, the dim smile taking a slightly wicked turn. "No. But if you decide you can't go through with it, that's okay. You can still keep me company."
She tried to think of all the weird things that could have possibly been inspired by the conversation they'd just had. But she didn't have to think for very long. Add that to only a handful of businesses on that side of the street. "Would this batshit crazy event include ink permanently marking my skin?"
Elijah's devilish grin deepened. "You just had to take all the fun out of it, didn't you?"
"Would we be getting matching North Star tattoos, by chance?"
"Maybe."
After seeing his bare chest earlier, as well as his back, it didn't appear he'd had any tattoos. Not that they couldn't be somewhere out of her line of vision. Madeline didn't have any of her own, either. When Claire got a tattoo on her eighteenth birthday, it'd been a boring butterfly with zero significance. She'd always promised herself she wouldn't get a tattoo of her own unless it held great meaning to her.
And this held more meaning to Madeline than she could even begin to describe. "It'll be sacred, you know. Matching tattoos means you aren't allowed to disappear from my life ever again."
Elijah chuckled as he stared ahead. "I wasn't planning on it. When I do have to go home, which won't be for a while, I promise to call you, write you letters instead of emails, text you every day, and visit whenever I can. And you, M&M, can come see me whenever you wish."
He'd mentioned living in Stratford the night before. Madeline had only visited there once for a concert in high school, before he'd moved there by the sounds of it. It was a long drive, but if she was allowed to spend a long weekend, the drive would be completely worth it.
Plus, she only had one year of college left before she'd graduate with her computer science degree. Maybe her next life step would lead her to Stratford, or somewhere nearby.
"If they can't get us in today, we'll make an appointment."
"That's my girl," Elijah said with a small amount of pride in his voice.