Five more minutes left until this period finally ends. No offense to Mr. Hank but weâve been discussing the camping trip for over thirty minutes and Iâm about to fall asleep. Some of the students definitely are sleeping. If our teacher hadnât asked me personally about my tent and so on then so would I be.
âRemember, eight am in the parking lot. Whoeverâs late will have to find another way to the campsite. Well then, enjoy your weekend. Class dismissed.â Finally!
I ate lunch with the guys all week but I donât make a move to follow them outside, seeing Elija is not moving either. When weâre alone in the room, he pulls out a container from his bag and starts eating.
Looks like leftover pizza. The homemade kind. Is it sad that my mouth waters at the sight of cold pizza? To be honest, itâs been a while since I ate something I made myself.
My parents took me out for dinner Wednesday as planned and we ordered something on Thursday but it was not the same.
Iâve probably been staring for too long since Elija looks up from his phone to meet my eyes. He pats the desk beside his as if I were a dog to call over. I should hate it more than I do. Instead, I walk towards him, holding his gaze if not a little defiantly, and sit down on the desk.
Not sure what has gotten into me but the way heâs looking up at me seems ridiculously hot. Knowing I shouldnât feel this way, I look away to decide where to place my feet.
As if reading my mind, Elija gently grabs my calves and sets my feet down at the edge of his chair. Between his spread legs.
My cheeks heat up involuntarily, the confidence Iâve felt a moment ago gone since itâs been made clear whoâs in control here. News flash; itâs not me.
Still, I donât pull my feet away after Elija has let go. Thereâs a good distance between his legs and mine so this really isnât as inappropriate as it may sound. I kind of like it.
âHere,â Elija says, holding out a slice of pizza.
âNo thanks. I donât want to steal your food.â I laugh a bit to lighten the mood.
âPlease eat. I prefer not eating by myself.â Heâs smiling so genuinely that I couldnât possibly deny him. It feels nice to see a real smile after all the pretended ones Iâm faced with at home.
âThanks,â I tell him, earning a nod in return. Then we fall into a comfortable silence as we eat and listen to music individually.
âMay I?â the guy in front of me asks after Iâve swallowed my last bite. Heâs pointing at my phone, causing my heart to skip a beat. He wants to show me a song.
I unlock my phone for him, anticipating what Iâll hear next. When the first note of FRIENDS by Marshmallow registers, I burst out laughing.
âVery funny,â I tell Elija whoâs just grinning at me. Idiot.
âJust kidding. Here you go.â I donât recognize the song but itâs really great. Thereâs no singing but the way the guitar harmonizes with the beat is seriously impressive.
âI love it, really. Whoâs it from? Do they have any more?â I ask. Elijaâs eyes seem to shine a little brighter and I love the thought that me liking a song he showed me makes him happy. Itâs what I feel whenever he tells me my music is nice.
âSomething like that,â he tells me. Iâm not sure what that means but Elija distracts me from asking anything else when he lays his arms on my knees. He places his head on top of them before I can even form a solid thought. Meanwhile, my heart is going a mile an hour and my muscles are stiff. Heâs not making me uncomfortable, quite the contrary. I just donât want to move because Iâm scared heâll go away again.
As if hearing my thoughts, the boy lifts his head slightly and smiles up at me. âThatâs better,â he tells me before lying back down.
âHuh?â I ask dumbly.
âYour legs. Theyâre not bouncing anymore,â he mumbles against his arms. I barely register his words but I am relaxing more with each passing second.
Itâs surprising how easy things are between Elija and me. Of course, if you asked me what was going on between us, I couldnât tell you but it is nice.
I usually get along well with people but thatâs just me being friendly. With this guy, Iâm actually comfortable. I feel like he, well maybe care is a bit of a stretch but maybe he enjoys my presence.
Or heâs just a good person and Iâm his charity case, a treacherous voice whispers in my mind. After all, he seems to be genuinely nice but he never showed this much interest in me before he witnessed my panic attack.
Is it selfish of me that I donât care? Am I ignorant for wanting moments like this to keep happening no matter his motives?
I think forward to where Iâll be in a few hours. The cold home where all the comfort I get comes from my own arms. Suddenly, I donât care whether Iâm ignorant or selfish. Spending time with Elija, with any of the guys, makes me happy. Iâm not ready to give up on that just yet.