"No fucking way! You're partnered with THE Matthew Stolar?"
It wasn't until the next morning when I told Eloise the news. As promised, I had gotten him his Wendy's and caramel sundae after breaking him out of detention. I was originally planning on bringing it up then, but true to his nature, he had gone on a thirty minute ramble about Newsies, and I never got the chance to say anything.
"Like, I get why they cast him to be the main character," he had said, licking ice cream off of his lips. "But he's just so ugly! And I have a better falsetto than him, besides."
Now it was ten A.M on the following day. Eloise had just rolled out of bed, his hair a mess and his voice all groggy. He was loudly chomping down on a bowl of surgery cereal while he facetimed me. I couldn't see what brand it was due to how close the phone was to his face, but judging from the overly saturated flashes of color I saw when he lifted his spoon up to his mouth, it was either Froot Loops or Fruity Pebbles.
"Dude," I glanced back at my phone, which was perched up against a pillow in my bed while I sorted through my closet, "Aren't your parents home? You can't be cussing like that."
"Naw. They're out yard sale shopping." He replied, slurping his milk obnoxiously. "I got the house all to myself, baby. Gonna play GTA V on our living room TV and walk into a strip club, or something."
"You don't even own GTA V." I snorted, yanking a sweater off of its hanger and inspecting it. "If you did, your parents would ground you for six months straight again."
Eloise, unfortunately, had some pretty strict evangelical parents. They had a bunch of dumbass rules he had to follow, and he got dragged to church every sunday. He had convinced me to come along with him once or twice, and to be honest, I have no idea how he managed to do it every week. All it is is some old fart standing up at a pew for an hour and a half, lecturing the congregation on how awful people they were, and how only some big sky daddy upstairs could save you.
Which was a load of shit, because if God really wanted to save me, He would've made me six foot two with rock hard abs.
The last time Eloise had gotten grounded for six months was after his parents found out he was skipping the church service to go make out with one of the deacon's sons in the bathroom. When his parents asked him 'what the hell he was thinking', he had said,
"I prayed and asked God, and He said it was perfectly fine!"
Which didn't help him in any way, it just got him extra in trouble for blasphemy.
"God, don't talk about that. Literally the worst period of my life ever."
While Eloise left his phone on his dining room table to go wash his empty bowl, I plucked out a few more articles of clothing from my closet, tossing them onto a chair in the corner of my room.
"Okay, I'm stuck between this sweater or this flannel." I held up the two tops to my phone once Eloise had gotten back. He squinted at his screen, commanding me to move them this way and that so he could see the options from different angles.
"Depends on what bottoms you're wearing with them." He decided after a while.
"I was just gonna wear my corduroys."
Eloise wrinkled his nose at that.
"Really? Corduroys?"
I frowned, laying the sweater and the flannel shirt on my bed as I shifted through my pants drawer.
"Yea, what's wrong with corduroys?"
"Corduroys are like.. First date material. You don't want to look like you're trying too hard."
"So what should I wear? Sweats?"
"God, no!" Eloise shouted, making me jump and whip around to pin my phone with a glare. "You're going to his house for a school project, not a slumber party."
"Then I don't know what to wear!"
Eloise stuck his tongue out comically, thinking for a moment, before he snapped his fingers.
"Do you still have those bell bottomed jeans I let you borrow during halloween?"
I looked back down to my drawer, digging around a bit before finding the jeans he was referring too. They were a bit bleached, tighter up in the thighs before flaring out at the calf and ankle. He had let me use them because I had wanted to dress up as a hippie.
"Yea, I do." I showed him. "But bell bottoms? Really? Aren't those like.. Really old school?"
"I mean, yea." Eloise shrugged. "They're totally making a comeback, though, trust me."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Madeline White made a tiktok about them!"
I gave my phone a droll stare, rolling my eyes as I reluctantly agreed to wear the jeans. Eloise knew a lot more about fashion than I did, so I mostly listened to his advice, as stupid as it seemed sometimes. He was usually right about this sort of stuff.
"Alright," I said after I tugged on the pants and the sweater, turning to look at myself in the mirror. "How do I look?"
Eloise hummed a bit.
"Like a Harvard student going out to their local cafe to drink overpriced coffee and study for their upcoming midterm."
I lifted an eyebrow inquisitively, looking over to my phone.
"In a good or bad way?"
"Good way."
I rolled my eyes at Eloise's weird analogy, saying my goodbyes to him before he hung up on me. Something about him being late to dress rehearsal.
I turned back to my mirror, giving myself another once-over to make sure I actually looked presentable. It's not that I didn't trust Eloise's judgment, it's just that he had a tendency to dress himself as a glitter hoe, and the last thing I needed was to show up at Matthew's house looking more gay than I already am.
I really didn't look half that bad, I realized as I stared at my reflection. At least, my outfit wasn't. I couldn't say the same about the rest of my body.
When puberty left me hanging back during freshman year, it never really seemed to come back around and finish its job, leaving me with a round baby face and a short frame. It didn't help that I pretty much never worked out, meaning my lithe build made me look even more like a twink. I was jealous of all the other boys at school, with their muscular arms and well defined chests. They had bodies to be proud of.
Even Eloise, who was about as anti-exercise as I was, looked better than me. I'm guessing it had something to do with how much dancing he does in theater.
It seemed like everyone around me was fleshing out into adulthood, and I was just.. Being left behind.
"Elliot!" A voice called from downstairs. "Lunch is ready!"
I frowned, glancing over at the digital clock on my night stand, seeing the flashing numbers display twelve thirty on its face.
Jesus, I thought. I could've sworn it was just ten.
I guess time really does fly when you're lost in thought while staring at yourself in the mirror.
Who knew.
"Coming, mom!" I hollered back, smoothing a hand through my hair and adjusting my crooked glasses as I scurried out of my room, heading down the stairs. They led me down to the main living room, adjacent to the kitchen, where my mother was stirring something in a pot. She looked up when she saw me, beckoning me over with a hand.
My mom was a petite lady, with black hair, peppered with gray from age, and soft green eyes like forest leaves. I inherited most of my traits from her, like my height and hair color, but didn't get that last thing. My eyes were a dull shade of poop brown, just like my dads.
When I was younger, I would spend hours wishing and praying that my eyes would magically change colors. I thought that if I had green eyes, then I would be like Green Arrow from DC.
Not sure why I wanted him, considering he's the dumbest superhero in the entire franchise.
I mean, seriously, you had Wonder Woman, a giant, buff, American woman with a truth-telling lasso, you had Batman, a night stalking vigilante and enough trust issues to financially support a couple of therapists, and then you had Green Arrow?
A bi-rate robin hood with a stupid bow and arrow gimmick?
Give me a break.
This was something Eloise and I disagreed on a ton. We liked to get together on Sunday afternoons and binge superhero movies. We got into arguments on who was the best and strongest. I was a diehard Iron Man fan, and he liked Spiderman and the aforementioned Green Arrow.
I smiled faintly, remembering last week when Eloise had chucked his popcorn bucket at my head because I said that Tom Holland Spiderman was better than Nicolas Hammond Spiderman.
"What!" I had sputtered indignantly, wiping kernels out of my hair. "Tom Holland is hot, and a good actor!"
"But not as good as Nicolas! How could you Elli!" He cried, tossing a salt shaker at me too.
I shook my head, clearing the memory as I padded my way over to the kitchen, peering over my mom's shoulder as I stared down into the frying pan. The rich scent of soy sauce and sesame oil hit my nose.
"Egg fried rice." My mom grinned, stirring the food with a wooden spoon.
"Go sit at the table, I'll dish out."
"Ooh, my favorite." I snorted, sliding down into my seat at the table.
"Oh, shush. It's quick and easy to make, and it tastes good. You can't ask for much else," My mom retorted, spooning out the rice onto two plates and carrying them over to me. "If you don't like it, you're welcome to cook for yourself."
"Aww, c'mon mama." I jokingly whined as I took a plate from her. "You know I'd burn the house down."
"Oh I know." She scoffed, taking her seat next to mine. "I've seen it firsthand. Remember my birthday last year?"
"The mac and cheese wasn't that burnt!"
"It was inedible."
"I think you're just ungrateful."
"It was crunchy, Elli! Mac and cheese should not be crunchy!"
I pretended to be offended, placing a hand on my chest and snubbing my nose up. I couldn't hold it for long, though, and we both broke off into a round of giggles.
"Okay, you're right." I admitted, shoving my food-filled fork into my mouth and chewing. "It was a disaster. I'm sorry."
"It's the thought that counts." She assured me, resting her hand on mine before beginning to eat her food as well.
We were silent for a while, just enjoying our lunch and the view from the windows beside us. Occasionally, she'd point out a squirrel or a bird that landed on the fence or the patio that was attached to the side of the house.
I was almost finished eating when I nervously tapped my fingers against the table, peeking over at my mom.
"So.. is dad coming home anytime soon?"
I watched the light drain from her eyes, her lips setting into a slight frown. I felt a tinge of guilt in my stomach, already feeling bad for asking.
"I don't know." Her voice seemed quieter. "He hasn't been answering his phone."
I swallowed thickly, looking back down at my empty plate. I heard her sigh deeply.
"It'll be okay, Elli. This storm will pass." She didn't sound as optimistic as her words made her out to be.
"Yea." I smiled, but it was forced, and it turned into more of a grimace.
We fell back into silence, cleaning the plates and wiping down the table before she made up some excuse as to why she had to step out of the house for a bit. I watched her go, remorseful.
I should've just kept my big stupid mouth shut.
I glimpsed down at my phone, re-checking the time. My heart jumped into my throat when I realized it was almost one thirty. After class, Matthew and I had quickly agreed upon a two thirty start time so that we had the entire evening to make a good headway on the project. He had then scribbled down his address onto a sheet of paper, which was now tucked safely in between my science textbooks so that I wouldn't lose it. It would take me at least thirty minutes to get there by bus, not to mention I had to walk to and from the bus stop both ways. If I didn't want to be late, I had to hurry.
I quickly freshened up in my bathroom, brushing my teeth and hair and re-applying my deodorant just in case. I took one last look in the mirror, did finger guns at myself, face palmed, then grabbed my book bag that was filled with everything I'd need and headed out the door.
I passed my mom on the way out. She had her arms crossed over her chest while she stared down at one of her many flowerbeds. This one was filled with snowdrops, their little petals swaying softly in a breeze.
"I gotta go to a friend's house, Mama!" I said, waving a hand.
"Eloise's?" She questioned.
I shook my head.
"It's for a school project. I'll be back before dinner."
"Alright, be safe!"
It was about a ten minute walk from my house to the bus stop. It wasn't a very nice one, the city was cheap and refused to fix anything unless enough people complained about it. In this day and age, pretty much nobody but me and all the other carless freaks of the neighborhood used the bus, so the stops stayed as they were. Luckily enough, when I got there, it was empty. I hated socializing with strangers.
Eloise said it was because of my 'undiagnosed autism'.
Which was probably true, but still.
I impatiently waited for the bus to arrive, going between pacing back and forth, worrying I'd sweat and stink, sitting back down, then pacing again because I was too nervous to sit. Finally, it pulled up, smoking puffs of black out of the exhaust. I climbed inside, picking a chair far away from the other patrons, plugging my headphones in and staring out the window, hoping my heart would stop beating a million times an hour.
I can't believe I'm doing this, I thought as the bus got closer and closer to the stop I needed to take. I can't believe this is really happening!
I watched the scenery change from my local area of rundown and low income to a much wealthier area of the city. My eyes widened, looking at the much larger and definitely much more expensive houses. Three stories, all brick, two car garages?
Yea. This was pretty much the lux.
We finally came to a stop outside a much nicer looking bus stop, I noticed with mild jealousy. Instead of mildew and splintering plastic, there were glass wind protectors and bright LED lights displaying advertisements. I stood near one of those advertisements as the bus drove off. I yanked out my phone and the crumbled piece of paper Matthew had given me, plugging his address into my directions app. It said it was another ten minute walk, which would put me at arriving ten minutes early.
I tried to walk a bit slower, not wanting to look over eager to get to his house. I took the time to enjoy the scenery, the shiny and luxury cars that toiled by, the nuclear families that were out on an afternoon stroll with their two thousand dollar goldendoodle puppies, and the pristine, recently mowed, well kept yards that sat perfectly in front of perfect houses.
It was almost like stepping into the twilight zone.
I finally found his house, another cookie cutter home like the rest that ran along the street. Although, his house definitely looked a bit more worn in, the paint was faded and chipping, the driveway cracked from the roots of a gnarled oak that sat in the front lawn. I liked it, it made it look more inviting rather like it just got remodeled on Fixer Upper.
I strode up towards the front door, past the large tow truck that reeked of diesel, and hopped up onto the porch.
I raised my hand to knock.
Shit. I'm early.. Maybe I should wait until it's exactly two thirty?
I swung my arms by my side, waiting for the two minutes to pass.
I raised my hand again.
Oh god, what if he thinks I look dumb? What if I smell bad? What if there's something in my teeth?
One nervous mouth check using my phone's camera later, I raised my hand again.
Then lowered it.
Goddamnit, Elliot! Just knock on the door! You'll have to go in there eventual-
My train of thoughts were interrupted by the door suddenly opening inwardly, revealing Matthew Stolar with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.
And shirtless.
He had a towel tossed around his shoulders, his hair damp and beads of water flicking down onto his chest.
His incredibly well defined chest.
He had on a pair of black sweats with Nike logos on either side, but besides that, that's all he wore.
Did I mention he was shirtless?
"Sorry! I literally just got out of the shower. Saw you standing out here and figured I'd let you in. It's freezing out here!"
I tore my eyes from his torso, where prickled goosebumps were beginning to form as he rubbed his arms, nodding numbly and stumbling inside as he shut the door behind me.
"Just stay here, I'll be right down." Another nod, and I watched as he disappeared around a corner, his feet thumping up a set of stairs. I took the moment he was gone to glance around the interior of his house.
It was your average vanilla home, cream walls with bundles of family photos strung on the hallway walls, plush couches and armchairs surrounding a large TV above a fireplace, a pre-set dining table with small finger sandwiches stacked ornately on top of a serving tray.
It felt so perfect, so normal, that I felt extremely out of place.
My home was smaller, sure, and much more dilapidated with the multiple stains that lined the carpet and water damaged ceilings, but it was home.
This house felt like the opposite. It felt soulless.
I peeked over to one of the framed photos on the wall, smiling faintly when I saw a clearly much younger version of Matthew, his eyes wider and his teeth more crooked with his grin. He was standing with his elementary school football team, his jersey looking almost too big for his small boyish body. He couldn't have been older than seven.
I stepped back towards my original place when I heard Matthew coming back down to the first floor, feeling a bit disappointed when he was now fully clothed, a simple black tee covering his abs.
His kissable abs.
God.
"Sorry about that." he apologized again, running a hand through his golden curls. "We can get started now. You hungry or anything? I got snacks and drinks."
"Uh- no, I'm alright." I smiled politely. "Thank you, though."
"No worries. Let me know if you change your mind." He spun on his heel, beckoning me along. "I got everything set up in my bedroom. We can work there."
"Sounds good."
I tried to slow the rapid beating of my heart, praying that the usual flush of my cheeks was choosing not to make an appearance today. I tried not to stumble over my feet as we made our way to the second floor, and I tried not to keep my eyes glued to the flexing of Matthew's biceps as his arms moved alongside his body.
You try your best and you don't succeed sometimes, I guess.
Matthew led me to his bedroom, pushing open the door with his foot. It was a typical sport-obsessed teenage boy's room, with clothes strewn about, golden trophies up on the shelves, and posters of famous athletes on the wall. I wrinkled my nose as the undeniable scene of ax body spray hit my nose, trying to avoid coughing.
"I figured we could type out some ideas on my computer. I'll create a google doc and give you editing access, so you can add stuff when you're at home if you get any good ideas." He repeatedly smacked the space bar on what appeared to be a very elaborate gaming setup. It was one of those with the giant, see-through engine things, where it glowed different colors and spun around. The screen hummed to life, displaying an open tab of some type of scholarship form.
"CCT?" I dared to ask.
"What?"
"Oh- CCT? Chicago Central Tech?" I pointed at his screen. "Sorry, I just saw the application."
"Huh? Ah!" His eyes flickered from his computer back to me. "Yea! They have a pretty good football scholarship there, so I figured I'd apply. What about you?"
"Oh no, I can't play football."
"I meant what college you were planning on attending."
"Eh...I haven't decided yet." I said, shrugging my shoulders lightly.
"Yea. It's a pretty tough decision, right?" He leaned back in his chair. It was one of those gaming chairs with a tall back and plush cushioning. "I mean, we'll be spending thousands of dollars for our education. You want to pick some place that's worth it, you know?"
"I guess that makes sense."
He flashed me a smile that almost had me melting on the spot before he turned back around, pulling up a google document and opening a blank on. I sat down on the edge of his bed when he directed me to, running my fingers over the soft linen of his blankets briefly.
"So," he began a bit sheepishly, "To be honest, I haven't really put any thought into the project at all. All I know is that it's on The Count of Monte Cristo and we have to present a slideshow, or something."
"Yea, that about sums it up." I reached into my book bag, pulling out one of my notebooks and flipping to my notes from yesterday's class. "We have three options on what we can present on. One, we have to summarize the long term psychological damage done to Edmond and how it affected his actions later on in the book. Two, we have to compare and contrast the differences between Edmond Dantes and The Count, and how each reflects the other. Three, we have to discuss in depth the differences between how Danglars treated Edmond before and after jail."
I watched with mild humor as Matthew's face twisted up the longer I went on.
"Uhhhh.. Which one is the easiest?"
I hummed a bit, weighing them against each other.
"Probably the second one, since there's a lot of evidence and quotes we can use to back up our claims throughout the book. It shouldn't be too hard to find them."
Matthew winced.
"You.. did read the book, right?"
He was silent.
"Right?"
"I spark noted it?"
I tried not to sigh, shutting my notebook.
"It's alright, I'll fill you in."
All was forgiven when he gave me another charming smile, my heart fluttering against my chest.
"You're the best!"
A painful two hours ensued where I was forced to regurgitate every minor detail in The Count of Monte Cristo in order to catch Matthew up to speed. It wasn't all bad, though, since we were able to jot down some ideas while I was recalling everything.
I had to admit, working with Matthew was more dreamy than I could've ever imagined. Every time those baby blue eyes flickered to me, or those perfect plump lips tilted upwards in a smile, I felt like the world was slowing down or that my heart was about to explode out of my chest. I wanted to bottle the feeling up and keep it on my shelf forever, to shake it like a five year old with a snow globe every time I was feeling lonely or down.
Which, nowadays, was pretty often.
By the time we were almost finished, it was nearing five PM. I hadn't even realized that two and a half hours had passed until Matthew's phone suddenly rang, breaking me out of my stupor spell and giving me a chance to look at the clock.
"Shit," Matthew said, glancing down at his phone. "I gotta take this. Do you mind..?"
I shook my head no.
He lifted the phone up to his ear, and despite the volume being low, I could still hear the unmistakable sound of a woman's voice on the other line, though I couldn't make out exactly what was being said.
"Hey babe," He spoke, using his foot to push his chair back and forth. "Naw, I'm at home. What's up?"
I tried to imagine him speaking to me that way. Imagine him calling me babe. I couldn't help the shudder that went through me at the thought, quickly rubbing my face to try and rid myself of any sort of blush that wanted to form there.
"Hm? Yea, I should be free tomorrow. Sure, lunch sounds great. Mhm. See you then, love you."
He made kissy noises before he hung up, tucking his phone in his back pocket before turning back to me again.
"Sorry about that, it was my girlfriend, Veronica, calling. She can get pissy when I don't answer right away. You know how women can be."
No, actually, I don't.
"The cheerleader?" I asked, though mostly out of politeness. I knew who she was already.
"Yep! She's real pretty, isn't she?" He had a faraway look in his eyes as he spoke. "I'm lucky to have her. She's a sweetheart."
I forced myself to smile.
"That's nice." My voice came out tighter than it should've. Matthew didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't comment on it.
"For sure. Anyways, It's getting kinda late, yea?"
I glanced over at the clock again, trying not to let my disappointment show on my face.
"Seems so."
"We can meet up again.. Uh.." He glanced up at a calendar by his desk. "Next wednesday, same time. Sound alright to you?"
Next Wednesday? That was four whole days away!
"Works for me!" I said instead.
"Cool beans! I'll walk you out-" He began to get up onto his feet when his phone rang again.
"It's Veronica again, hold on." He tapped the answer button.
I sighed inwardly as he made more pet names and cutesy noises at his phone, shifting my eyes down to my feet.
I didn't know what it was, but something in me told me that winning him over was about to be a lot harder than I thought.
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Two day early chapter?! Woah. Next chapter sometime next week. See you then!