+ LOVING ELIJAH MCCAY +
VOL. 1: CHAPTER ELEVEN

     Elijah was once again, my ride home. I wave an awkward goodbye from my driveway as he pulls out. My heart feels warm, as though our conversation blocked out any stress or concentration I'd been feeling.

While with him, it feels like he could be a good friend. But knowing myself, I still wanted more.

When I was just a kid, I'd first began falling for him because we shared something great—baseball. I remember it like it was yesterday. I would watch from the bench at games as he showed off to everyone in the stands. And almost every girl in the crowd shouting out McCay.

Back when I was a freshman, I would find myself dozing off to the thought of a fantasy. Usually, the fantasy would consist of the two of happy—alike all of the other couples around me.

Back then, everyone in my grade had been having firsts. Their first kiss, first love, and losing their virginities.

But I was alone.

I would watch as even Rick found himself with girl after girl, explaining to me how much fun dating actually was. Especially when you drove yourself to your dates.

Boys didn't pay much attention to me. Considering the fact that I'm most likely the only out student at Wayland.

So, when Terrance began to look my way—I leaped at the opportunity to finally feel what everyone else felt. Appreciated, happy, in love.

But I never had the opportunity to fall for Terrance. Sophomore year ended, and I didn't hear from him during the duration of summer break. I had been so sad, so confused.

And when my father offered to send me off to summer camp, I agreed, wanting nothing more than a distraction.

Elijah McCay had always seemed so far, so out of reach and—just a simple fantasy. I knew that. But when he took me out to dinner, and even offered me some sort of advice—I couldn't help, I fell again.

It was times like this that I felt easy. Easy, and like if a guy even held a door open for me, I'd fall for him right then and there. I don't know when it started, my insistent need for validation from a boy.

Even with my little experience.

When I pushed the front door open to my home, there stood my mother. She stood tall, a pair of heels boosting her even higher. Her dark, usually pin straight hair, had been curled neatly. And her face was decorated beautifully with makeup I'd never seen her wear before.

She was bent over the kitchen counter, flipping something over a pan and smiling over at me, once noticing that I'd arrived.

I smiled right back. "You look beautiful, mom. What's the occasion?"

She playfully glared at me, reaching below to turn the stove off completely. Then, she pulled a plastic bowl from the cabinet, pouring the contents into it. "Does there have to be one to dress nicely?"

I raised an eyebrow, taking a seat at the kitchen island. "You never dress up, unless you're going to one of aunt Iona's charity events."

She let out a sour breath, tucking the plastic bowl into the fridge. "I hate those things. And she always, always asks Abba and I to go."

I laugh, leaning in closer. "You never answered me—why are you dressed up so nicely?"

My mother paused, her lips spreading into a contagious smile, a dark piece of hair falling into her eyes. My stomach began to do flips in excitement when a blush soured her pale cheeks.

She ran a set of long, polished nails through her hair. "Abba's taking me out to dinner, than to a hotel for the night. I'm sorry we didn't tell you this morning, he sprung this on just a few hours ago."

I couldn't help but feel warm, seeing how my father still had the ability make my mother blush. Even after over twenty years of marriage. "That sounds fun, I hope you guys have a great time."

Her dimples pulse through her now reddened cheeks, her fingers reaching over for my jaw. "What did we do to deserve you, Gage?" And with that, she left a smothered kiss at my cheek.

My father slowly made his way down the steps, and into the kitchen, reaching over to pat me on the shoulder. "How was school?"

I shook my head. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that the two of you have the time of your lives. And preferably, don't come home until morning."

My mother gasped. "Well, there's pasta in the fridge for you. If you heat it up, make sure to remove the cap. And if you get sad or lonely, or anything, just—"

"Mom, mom—I'll be fine. Go and have fun." She still seemed reluctant.

I pushed the two of them near the door, answering any questions my mother had just so that she'd know that I'd be safe all alone. "And if you go to Rick's, you call me and tell me, understand?"

I nodded, landing one last kiss at each of their foreheads, before slamming the door closed behind them.

And just minutes later, the family car was roaring, and out of the garage.

     At school, I had promised Rick that I'd be over for pizza and video games. He had even sent me a confirmation text, asking if I was completely alright with spending my only night alone with my best friend. I replied with a short, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing.

     He didn't send another message after that, but I knew he grateful that he didn't have to spend the night alone. Especially after his father was serenading another twenty-something year old.

     The only thing I took with me to Rick's was my cellphone, a bag of clothes, and my charger.

     I sent my mother one last parting message of where I'd be for the night, and called for all of the details, my father groaning in the background.

     When my bike stopped before the large, black gate that surrounded Rick's home, I rang the buzzer, knowing he was expecting me. "Gage?" He immediately asked after the short buzz.

     "Yeah, can I come in?" And with that, I was let inside, me peddling with excitement.

     I left my bike parked on the side of his house with no lock, knowing it would be undoubtedly safe with all of the security surrounding the place.

     Once I stepped through the wide doorway, a man I didn't recognize took my coat, and Rick and I made our way to his bedroom.

     Rick wasn't too neat when it came to his personalized belongings. His bedspread wasn't made, confirming the fact that he had been napping before I arrived. His guest chair was filled to the brim with clothing, as was his hamper.

     And I soon realized that with everything going on, the last thing he was worried about, was how decent his room was.

     "What's going on with you?" I asked worriedly, he had never let things get this out of hand before. And the messy room wasn't all there was to be worried about. He had been out of hand with his spending, too.

He gave me a look, "what do mean, what's wrong with me? Nothings wrong."

     I could hear the defense and denial in his voice, and what seemed to be followed with anger. "I don't mean anything bad, I just want to know if you want to talk about anything. Anything at all."

     He was quick to decline, not even offering me a verbal answer.

     "Come on, Rick. I can tell when you're going through something. Is it your dad? Did you guys argue, again?" My words seemed pushy, but I couldn't help it. He seemed so out of touch.

     A quick shake of his head was all I received, him playing a classic movie I'd never seen before—effectively drowning me out.

     And I began to realize that Rick was way less picture-perfect than everyone in his life thought—including his father. And I was so, so grateful for mine.