After Elija found my hairclip, I was quick to retire to my tent. It was barely after 4 pm but I was more than drained. The race alone was enough to knock me out but what really got me was losing that damn clip. It was my auntâs favorite accessory and she specifically told me to take good care of it in her will. What do I do? Lose it in a damn lake!
Thank god the water wasnât that deep. I donât know what I would have done if it had been lost for good.
I was alone in my tent when I fell asleep so imagine my shock after seeing someone when I opened my eyes. Not funny.
âWhat are you doing here?â I ask Elija. He looks up from his hands and smiles softly at me. Damn, that smile almost makes me forget he broke into my tent while I was sleeping.
âSaved you some dinner and thought Iâd bring it here before it got cold.â He nods his head to the side and I follow the movement to a plate next to him. I canât help but laugh.
âAre the other guys coming?â I tease him but he doesnât seem to understand. âElija, how am I supposed to eat all that?â Seriously, the plate is filled to the brim with mac n cheese.
âYou walked around the whole lake. I figured youâd be hungry.â He shrugs but I donât miss the pink splotches that creep up his neck. I like to see him blush for a change.
âHungry, maybe, but not starving.â When I keep laughing at him he raises his hands and chuckles himself.
âFair, so I mightâve been a bit optimistic. How about we share?â he asks. My heart has the audacity to beat faster as I keep looking into those brown eyes of his and I find myself nodding even as I know itâs not a good idea.
The thing is, as romantic as a dinner date might sound, I struggle with eating even when Iâm alone. Seeing or hearing someone chew, or worse being watched as I eat only makes it worse.
Since I canât tell Elija that though, I take a fork out of my backpack and watch him set the food between us.
âI should have known you brought your own cutlery,â he tells me with a smile. I take I look at the plastic fork in his hand which mustâve been intended for me to use.
âPlastic kills our planet,â I tell him but laugh over it so I donât come across as judgy. He should do what he wants, it just makes me feel bad about myself.
âRight, sorry. Boy scoutâs promise Iâll remember to bring my own fork next time.â With that, we start digging into the food.
I can hardly keep the food down and I hate that today has to be a bad day. Iâve been doing better recently, even though I skipped meals. At least I didnât get sick as often as I used to. With Liamâs comment still fresh in my memory itâs hard to remember what that was like though.
âYou know I canât finish this by myself either. Technically, I already ate,â Elija tells me and I realize Iâve stopped eating as I zoned out. I laugh it off.
âSorry. In my defense, I just woke up.â The guy on the other side of the plate studies me for a moment before smiling back.
âRight. I didnât know if I should wake you but Iâm sorry if youâd rather have eaten with us.â
âNot at all. I mean, it was really nice of you to think of me at all. Iâm just not that hungry, sorry,â I try to explain.
âPlease, Florence, you seriously need to stop apologizing so much to me,â he tells me. The problem is that heâs not smiling anymore and the sincerity in his voice makes me want to apologize again. âDonât,â he says as if reading my mind. At least he tunes in when I laugh over it.
I force myself to keep eating, even if I just take one bite for every five Elija does. He doesnât comment on it and eventually turns on music to play in the background. Things get easier from there on.
âNow, whatâs the story behind the hairclip? Donât tell me if you donât want to but I havenât been able to stop thinking about it,â he says after swallowing the last bite. I canât believe we actually finished the whole plate but yay us, I guess.
âItâs a long story,â I tell him automatically. When Elija nods as if accepting defeat, I feel surprisingly disappointed. I know he might be trying not to be pushy and I appreciate it but part of me wants to turn his reaction into something ugly. Part of my mind is whispering that he doesnât care or wants to leave.
I hate my brain sometimes.
The thing is, I donât even hate the idea of telling him. I answered that way out of habit but it might be nice to talk to Elija. I get the feeling heâd be a good listener.
Can I still answer or would that come across as weird now? Maybe I should just drop the topic and ask him something about himself. Maybe whether or not he had an aunt. Is that a weird thing to ask? Probably, since I havenât mentioned mine yet.
âFlorence? Iâm losing you again,â Elija says softly.
âOh, sorry. I could tell you the story if you want to,â I tell him. He chuckles before telling me to go on. âThe aunt I told you about, you remember her?â I ask.
âThe Scorpio.â He nods.
âExactly. Well, she died a few years back.â I try to let the words sink in but when I wait for a reaction, I get nothing.
âYeah, I figured that when you spoke of her the last time,â he tells me and I swear his voice somehow got softer. It makes the lump in my throat tighten but I will myself to keep it together. Iâm almost an adult, I canât keep falling apart at the mere thought of my dead aunt.
âAlways so observant.â I chuckle but Iâm sure he sees through it. Before I can go on with my story, Elija tells me to hold on for a second. He reaches for his phone and the bitter taste of rejection sours my mouth. So much for talking about this to someone for the first time since she died.
I feel my eyes prick and blink more furiously. I will not let myself fall apart in front of him. Not again.
Then a familiar melody hits my ears and I raise my eyes back to Elijaâs. Thereâs a small crease between his brows and I can see worry written all over his face as he studies me. Heâs worried about me, I realize with a start. It only makes me want to cry more.
I hate being emotional.
âWhatâs that?â I smile slightly when I notice that itâs not the song I thought thatâs playing.
âDo you recognize the beat?â Elija asks me. It only takes me a second to understand what heâs talking about.
âMy rhythm. How?â I ask and itâs all I can do not to stare at the guy in front of me with an open mouth.
âI made it. It wasnât that hard, I just took the song you like, recorded your rhythm, and put them together. I hope I got it right,â he tells me and shrugs.
âI- Elija, I donât know what to say.â My voice is barely louder than a whisper.
âWell, did I get it right?â he asks but Iâm still at a loss of words. I simply nod as I collect myself. This boy is unbelievable.