VOL. 2: CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Elijah can cook.
A mere two hours ago, I had no idea. And I hadn't even cared. But now, as I watch him carefully measure a cup of white rice, I wonder how I could've ever lived without such a sight.
I stand beside the counter, watching as he pours the measured serving into boiling water, setting the temperature afterward.
He turns to me, a dark eyebrow quirking. "How do we feel about soy sauce?" He holds up a medium sized bottle of soy sauce, shaking it with emphasis.
I shrug, leaning my hip onto the counter. "I don't hate it."
Elijah pops the lid open, pouring it over the now fresh plate of white rice, biting onto his bottom lip in concentration. "Well, that changes tonight," I raise an eyebrow, astounded by the trust he has in his own cooking. "After this meal, soy sauce will be your favorite condiment."
"We'll see." I joke, "I think it needs a few more sides to be considered an actual meal."
He grabs our plates and sodas, carrying them over to his tiny kitchen table. He takes the chair across from me, the legs of it squeaking once supporting his weight. I blush when mine does the same.
The lighting in his kitchen is nearly nonexistent. But for some reason, I like it. The darkness of it all allows me to feel whatever I want to feel without him being able to tell. The overhead lighting hums above us while we take slow bites.
While I take my first bite, he stares.
I try and stop myself from smiling, but it's incredibly hard when he's sitting there smiling and watching me eat the dinner he cooked.
"How's the soy sauce?" His question is quiet, but louder than the background music coming from the credits of a movie he put on when we first got to his apartment.
I shove another mouthful of rice into my mouth, grinning lips surrounding the spoon.
Elijah doesn't need a verbal answer, "I told you."
After dinner, he cleans our plates while I dry, our fingers occasionally brushing as he hands me the now freshly clean plates.
Once the dishes are washed, towel-dried, and placed back into his cupboards, we settle on his bedspread after having picked a movie that we both agreed on.
I keep my distance from him, deciding on the far right side of his king sized bed and curling up into a ball. With my knees tucked beneath my chin, I take a moment to appreciate the comfortable silence surrounding us.
Elijah leans back on his headboard, legs spread out and arms crossed against his broad chest. He lets out a soft chuckle whenever something comical happens and I find myself laughing too.
Even when I have no idea what was funny.
An hour or so later I'm nearly falling asleep, head lulling off to the side every few moments.
Elijah pauses the movie, turns and whispers a soft, "I'm sorry."
I blink the sleep from my eyes, focusing in on him. He appears genuinely apologetic and even a little ashamed of our spat earlier. He's not alone in the fact. "It's okay," I whisper back. "I'm sorry too—I know you're just trying to be there for me and I make it really difficult sometimes."
He sighs heavily, head thumping backward on his wooden headboard. "You don't. You're just . . . so guarded for some reason."
I bury my face into the crook of my elbow, heart clenching for what seems like the millionth time tonight. "You really don't know why I'm so guarded around you? Why I push you away?"
He doesn't say anything. I guess he does know after all.
"I want to know you again, Gage," Elijah admits with a serious edge to his tone. "I want us to be, I don't know—close again? It kinda really sucked not talking for so long. And I know I'm partially to blame too. I just—I just wasn't sure the timing was right yet."
You mean you weren't sure if I was over you yet.
Well, I am so not. Ugh.
"I get it," my voice is nearly a whisper, "but hey—look at us now. I mean, I'm in your apartment wearing your clothes. I'm not sure how much closer we get from here as friends." I laugh, sending Elijah into a chuckle as well.
My cheeks heat at the sound, two front teeth nibbling down on my bottom lip.
Elijah refocuses on the movie, chest deflating in a gentle sigh. I watch as he gets comfortable, scooting a bit closer to me and wrapping us in a large comforter.
I can feel the sleep wanting to wash over me and envelop me. I allow myself to drift, succumbing to the pleasant voices coming from the movie.
-
The next morning comes all too quickly, and with lightning quickness, I'm dressing in a hurry and having to leave Elijah's apartment before he gets back from his morning run. In the heat of my night with him, I'd forgotten to set all of my alarms which usually have me awake before 7:30 a.m.
That was not the case this morning.
This morning, I'd rolled off of Elijah's couch and looked at my phone to find out that it was well past 9:00 a.m. This meant that I had missed my first class of the day, and would have to borrow class materials from anyone willing to lend it.
I sat at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria during my lunch, trying to copy down the guide questions I'd gotten from my professor in my second class, who happened to be nice enough to email them to me.
My phone buzzed, and I reached into the front pocket of my hoodie for it.
Rick: it's happening!
I furrowed my eyebrows down at my phone, trying to figure out what my best friend was bothering me about in the middle of the day.
Me: what exactly is happening?
His response is fast.
Rick: I'm coming to you for Thanksgiving!
I drop the pen which I was holding in my free and non-texting hand, a smile overcoming my face. I hadn't seen Rick in the longest time. At first because his dad didn't like the idea of him going back and forth between his old and new life, and now because we'd just started college.
Me: WHAT!????? Since when?!!!
Rick: Since Kim has to go down to Michigan for her wedding dress or something. I'm not really sure. I think her mom's making it for her and she's trying it on. Something like that.
Me: You better not be lying to me Rick.
Rick: Me? I never lie.
Me: Sure.
Rick: Whatever. Your life is boring without me. I'm coming to spice it up again. Be ready.
Me: This semester has been anything but boring. Trust me.
Rick: ?????? Tell me??????
And with that, I explain to Rick the horrors that being a freshman has brought me, with a few exceptions being last night with Jeremiah.
I arrive back at my building just an hour after lunch, and begin my slow walk to the stairs. Sure, after a long day like this one I'd love to take the elevator, but it always seemed to be down for maintenance.
I was starting to think that the faculty just wanted us to take the stairs. For fun or something. Or torture, perhaps.
And while I'm turning the corner past the RA's office, I'm stopped by an intriguing poster posted on the bulletin board.
Baseball Counselors Wanted, the poster reads, come help on weekends to earn possible extra credit. No pay. Non-negotiable.
There are a few tabs left sticking out of the bottom of the poster where I rip a piece of it off. It has a number that I would supposedly call in order to get an interview.
I take one, tucking it safely into a crevice in my wallet. I went to baseball camp for years. It might be good for me to pass on some of my knowledge for it. Especially since I quit so abruptly after high school.
When I walk into my dorm, I'm surprised to see Jeremy there, sitting on his bed and watching something on his laptop.
He pauses it when I walk in, and smiles, "hey."
I smile back, "hey."
A few more awkward moments pass by before Jeremy sits up on his bed and leans his head back on his headboard. "So, uh, some guy dropped by here while you were out. He was looking for you."
I laughed nervously, already having an idea about what he was talking about.
"Let me guess," I started off, "really tall black guy with like, super green eyes."
Jeremy squinted, as though trying to remember back to when it happened. "Um, not really. It was a skinny guy who was kinda shy?" He ended his statement questioningly.
I paused, sitting down on my desk chair to ponder who could've been here looking for me.
When Jeremy realized I wasn't getting any closer to the answer, he cleared his throat awkwardly, peering at me from his side of the room. "I'll figure it out," I laughed out, "thanks anyway."
After a long overdue shower, I wandered back into the dorm room to find Jeremy sitting there still, his eyes trained on his laptop.
"What are you watching?" I finally asked, desperate to make conversation out of the thick air.
I hated how unnatural we were, and how I didn't at all feel comfortable around him. Sure, I knew getting a random roommate was risky and chances were, we wouldn't get along. But I at least hoped it wouldn't be difficult to even talk to the guy.
Jeremy looked over at me above his laptop, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Something."
I laughed at his shyness about whatever it was that he was watching, "something like what?"
He groaned, sitting up fully and putting his head in his hands, "Pretty Little Liars."
I gasped, bringing a hand to my mouth, "no way. You're not watching Pretty Little Liars."
Jeremy sat up straight finally, broadening his chest and pulling out an earphone. "I am! And I'm not embarrassed! It's a good show, okay?"
"I agree," I admit, "I've seen it. I just can't believe another guy has, too." I throw myself onto my bed, watching him from my side of our room.
The air is quiet for a few seconds, before Jeremy speaks again. "Wanna pair it to the TV and watch with me?"
I don't waste a moment.
"Absolutely."