‘Well good then. Just go on whenever you’re ready,’ he tells me patiently though I almost forgot what we were talking about.
‘Right, sorry. There’s not much to tell. We used to be really close and she left me that hairclip.’ I hate how stupid I feel when my eyes start filling with tears so in a desperate attempt to keep from crying I chuckle and stare at the ceiling.
‘Florence,’ Elija asks softly.
‘It’s nothing,’ I take a deep breath and pull my eyes back to his with a smile. He swears under his breath.
‘Fuck, I hate it when you do that,’ he mumbles roughly.
‘What?’ I ask, not having expected such a reaction.
‘That fake ass smile. I don’t know why you do it and I won’t tell you to stop if it makes you feel better but I hate it when you look at me like that. It feels like you’re hiding. Lying to me. I don’t like lies.’
‘I’m sorry. Agh, sorry, I’m not supposed to apologize. Ah, damn it,’ I ramble yet again. At least it seems to lighten Elija’s mood a tad.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Both of us are quiet for a beat but Elija speaks up again. ‘I have a question.’ He suddenly seems uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Truth be told, it makes me kind of nervous.
‘Go on.’ Here goes nothing.
‘Well, that night- when you had the panic attack- was that because of your aunt? You became kind of quiet after mentioning her,’ he asks.
‘Oh,’ I chuckle since I need a moment to think about my answer. ‘It’s connected, I guess. Less about her than what happened after her death but it’s a long and boring story. I’d rather talk about something else,’ I tell him honestly. If I got into all the issues I have with my parents and so on I’d just bore him to sleep. Not to mention I’d sound like an absolute brat. After all, my parents raised me in a nice house in a good neighborhood and always bought me whatever I could wish for. I was never forced to get a job or worry about my next meal so I don’t think I should complain. I’m just being silly.
‘Alright. What do you want to talk about?’ Elija asks me as he gets a bit more comfortable on the floor of my tent.
‘Well first off, feel free to get over here. I imagine my sleeping bag’s a bit more comfortable than the floor and we’ve probably been as close as humanly possible before,’ I tell him and pet the space next to me.
‘Florence, you should be careful who you say things like that around. They might get the wrong idea,’ he tells me with a small smirk and it takes me only a beat to understand what he’s saying. When realization dawns, my cheeks heat up.
‘Right, I’ll keep it in mind. Now, tell me about your family. Or, hang on, your music. You said you liked anything connected to it but I didn’t know you made your own remixes. Holy Pete! That song you showed me last week, that wasn’t- I mean, you didn’t- I don’t care if I’m rambling I need answers,’ I tell the guy next to me. Thankfully, he looks amused rather than intimidated or disgusted by my behavior.
‘Then let me help you get them. Yes, the other beats were by me. Like I said, I play the guitar, have tried my luck with the piano a few years back but never really got into it, and I like making remixes or creating songs myself. What else was there?’ He takes a moment to let the information sink in, watching me as it does. ‘My family?’ he asks.
‘First off, I’ll need a private concert at some point. Also, you’re really talented, honestly. Now, yes. Please proceed.’ Finally, I can announce that my smile feels natural.
‘I told you about my siblings already and you’ve met the twins. We all live at home with our mother and the twins’ father. Don’t be confused but I call him dad since he’s been around for a long time. He and my mom both work but at least one is home most of the time. If they’re not, it’s either my brother, me, or my grandparents who take care of the twins. My mom’s parents live about thirty minutes from our place so we see them fairly often.
‘My dad wasn’t around when I was younger and my mom had to work so they pretty much raised me and my brother. I’d say I get my sense of humor from my grandpa but I’m not sure I deserve that much credit. He’s hands down the funniest person I know. Whenever I had questions about school I could always ask my grandma so growing up with them was quite the win. That’s it, I’d say.’ By the time he’s finished, I’m grinning at the image of a younger Elija studying with his grandma.
‘They all sound awesome,’ I tell him but when he looks at me he’s not smiling. Without saying a word, he opens his arms invitingly. I don’t question it but hesitantly crawl closer to him to hug him. I kneel between his legs, trying to keep enough distance between us so I don’t make him uncomfortable. When my arms wrap around his neck and my head rests on his shoulders, his own arms pull me closer. It’s a good hug, I’m not going to lie.
I may or may not have sighed against him as I softly breathed his scent in. I let his body heat stream into me, warming places I didn’t know were cold in the first place. If I could, I’d stay like this forever.
Too soon, Elija starts pulling back slightly. His hands lazily rest on my hips while I keep mine on his shoulders. Maybe I’m not willing to let go quite yet.
We end up just staring at each other, some music still playing in the background though I can hardly hear it over the pounding of my heart. I feel like the longer we stay like this, the stronger the pull between us grows until eventually, I don’t want to fight it anymore. I dare a glance to look at his full lips. Yep, still as tempting as always.
Will I get to taste them finally? I raise my eyes back to Elija’s and feel like I know my answer. His eyes are jumping back and forth between mine until they eventually drop to my lips. He stares at them for a few beats, making awareness rise within me.
Does he like what he sees? Is his heart racing like mine? Does he want to kiss me? How far would I let this go if he did?
When the guy’s eyes meet mine again, I feel any hope vanishing. The heat they were displaying just a moment ago seems to have turned into indecision and maybe even regret. He slowly pulls his arms away from mine and gets to his feet. All without saying anything.
I let it happen, staying seated as if in a trance, all the while wondering what the hell just happened. Only after I hear the tent’s flaps close do I slump on my sleeping bag. He just left? Here I was thinking the two of us would finally become something more than friends and he just leaves.
An uncomfortable knot tightens in my stomach. I’m an idiot. Honestly, why would Elija want to kiss me? I’m sure he has many girls swooning over him. Funnier girls, less damaged girls. They probably don’t whine about their dead aunts to him and it most likely didn’t take them a year to speak to him in the first place.
I curl up in a ball, wrapping my sleeping bag tightly around me to replace the heat he provided me with just a moment ago. I’m stupid! I repeat to myself while trying not to cry.
Anyone could come into the tent at any given moment and the last thing I need is to cause a scene. No, I’m fine. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.
