+ LOVING ELIJAH MCCAY +
VOL. 1: CHAPTER FIVE

     I can't stop smiling. Only hours ago, Coach Witherspoon announced that I'd be the teams captain, until I graduate in two years. Unless I seriously mess up, during that short duration. Rick had seemed even more excited than I was, claiming that he'd pass over rules for me to make.

I had tried to explain to him that that wasn't my job. My job was to keep everyone on top of their roles and positions, and besides—being captain would look absolutely beautiful on my applications to nearby colleges.

Whenever I thought about it—I still had no idea what I wanted for my future. I knew I loved being out on the field, playing what I love most—baseball. But would that passion last forever?

But what I was sure of, was that I was just good enough, to get a scholarship out of it, and get myself into a good school, where I could figure it all out.

Although, with Rick—that was a completely different story. He always acted as though college would turn out to be the worst thing in the entire world. But I knew he held high expectations for himself, so in return, I did, too.

     There I was, head leaning on the window of Rick's passenger seat, eyes droopy and chest heavy. Another party—well, the first party of the school year, actually. Without even knowing the host, after practice, Rick and I had shared another plate of cheese fries at the nearest diner, then he had broken the news.

News that he had heard that a senior, would be having a party, and that now as upper class-man, we were invited. I groaned, and sunk further into the passenger seat.

"Rick, lets just go to my place and watch a movie or something. I really don't feel like spending the rest of tonight being completely ignored by both you, and everyone else." Rick rolled his eyes, turning the truck into a quiet, and reserved street.

"You won't be," he insisted, "I'll be there, Terrance will there—everyone else will be there. I promise, you'll have a blast." His words seemed logical, but I knew that in only two hours time, I'd be slithered against a plain wall, my cellphone in hand, as I went over old messages, just so bystanders would think I was busy texting.

     I left the conversation at that, as Rick's truck pulled into a long, slanted driveway, the homes garage propped open, as I recognized tons of students I'd passed in Wayland's hallway only hours ago. Rick whistled out of the drivers side window, me instantly regretting my decision to come along.

     Exiting swiftly, Rick punched a small hit into my shoulder, leaning in close to whisper, "just relax, and have fun. This is a celebration, you're finally captain—embrace it."

     "It isn't that, Rick—"

     Just as I was getting out the last bit of my sentence, someone who I had never recognized before, ran over to Rick's side, an arm rounding over his shoulders. I try and keep up, but with them being caught up in conversation, and the guy obviously trying to direct Rick somewhere specific—I lose them in the garages crowd.

I can see the tip-top of Rick's hat moving slowly within the crowd, the guys arm never leaving Rick's shoulders that seem to buzz and boom with laughter. I hope that he can't hear me, and is just actually be dragged around. Rather than just plainly ignoring me.

Shouting Rick's name over the music booming from the inside of the house, I make a straight line for the kitchen, knowing that Rick must be getting a drink. But when I slide in beside in the kitchen's island, he's nowhere to be seen.

Those standing around beside me, buzzing with laughter and conversation seem to stare at me with question. Them most likely seeing me as flower on the wall—someone who has no idea what to do in a situation like this.

Coming up with the conclusion that I've now actually lost Rick, I settle for leaning against a plain wall, eyes looks over the drafty, and lively crowd of people either my age, or slightly older.

I'm only slightly irritated with him, the other part of me not wanting to get in the way of him and his fun. Seeing as he's my only friend, and without him, I usually spend my week nights watching reruns of American Horror Story with both my mother and Toro.

I can see Terrance from across the room. He's staring—so, so intensely. Wanting him to end his stares, I can't help but make a confused expression, wanting to know why he wouldn't—or apparently couldn't stop staring.

     Then, he begins to make his way over, large tennis shoes padding the floorboards, as I palm my large red cup of water, spiked with something that will keep me alive tonight. He's walking slowly, as though prolonging my irrational thoughts of what could happen next.

     I could almost vomit at the power he seems to think he had over me. My crush on Terrance ended months ago, just before summer break when I realized he wasn't the guy I'd originally began to have a thing for.

     At the beginning of our entire ordeal, every morning before class during sophomore year, he'd walk me to my classes, and leave sweet notes in my locker when I wasn't looking.

     Then, just after I'd given him my first kiss, he disappeared—and didn't speak to me all summer long. And after weeks and weeks of trying to get ahold of him just before baseball camp, I quickly realized that maybe he just wasn't ready for something so serious just yet.

     And when I'd seen him again just earlier this week, I'd quickly swept things under the rug. Completely denying the fact that I yearned for that confrontation—wanting to know so badly why I wasn't good enough for him to even call me back. Or spare me a text message, even.

     As Terrance rounded the kitchen island, his green, and already tipsy eyes found mine, his thick lips curling into an enticing smile.

     "And what are you doing over here, all alone, Gage? Rick ditch you, again?" I can't help but roll my eyes at his obvious want to make me feel small—like I'm being betrayed in some way.

     I take a long sip from my cup, needing the electricity to begin flowing through my veins already, not wanting to be anywhere near Terrance at the moment. "Don't go there, Terrance, please. I'm having an okay night, and I don't need you fucking it up."

     My words are harsh, and I hadn't even planned for them to come out. But him being near me, and acting as though everything was alright, made my blood boil. Then, he had the audacity to make it seem like Rick had done something wrong.

     He hops onto the counter, hand finding my shoulder and giving me a playful push. "Oh, come on. Don't be pissed at me. I'm just trying to make conversation," he waved my attitude off, "and since when do you hate me so much anyway? You were fine at school all week."

     I know what he means, and if I were a little more sober, I wouldn't have the guts to say any of this to him. But I thank God that I am, and I continue on, watching his eyes narrow in annoyance.

     "You mean, why am I suddenly recognizing the fact that you're an asshole, and I should stay far, far away from you?" He laughs aloud, like everything that happened sophomore year was just a joke to him.

     This makes me want to curl up into a corner and sob, knowing that my feelings were a joke to him. I feel like an absolute idiot—I'd told my parents about him, I'd spilled my guts to Rick, watched him become excited for me.

     But little did I know, Terrance had a few tricks up his sleeve, that he'd kept hidden. For a reason. "You're taking this way too personally, Gage. What we had was fun, I'll admit. But I also have to admit that I'm only seventeen-years-old, and am nowhere near ready for commitment."

     "I never asked you for commitment, Terrance. We hadn't even gotten that far before you completely ghosted me. All I wanted was for you to call me back, talk to me, or give me a fucking hint." My voice cracks, and I want to scream from embarrassment.

     He hops down from the island, his arms barricading me into the corner of the kitchen, people beginning to desert it with a quick flicker of his fingers. "Me ghosting you, as you called it, was me giving you the hint, Gage. You just didn't hear it."

     "Fuck you," I whisper, a small tear making its way down my cheek, as I push passed him, and down the hallway full of people I don't even know. They watch me cry in what seems like amusement, most of them probably wondering why I'm in tears since I've just become captain of my team.

     Terrance try's to stop me, but I've slipped out of his grip, seconds ago, maneuvering my way around the living room in search for Rick's signature baseball cap. When I finally see him, I want to ask if we can leave. But when I see that he's busy with a girl, who's got beautiful, red hair, and long, pale legs, I decide against it.

     Before I know it, I've settled for walking home. Sure, I'm not completely sober, and can hard stop crying, but I know that I've got to get as far away from
Terrance as I can.

     My thoughts are in a whirlwind of emotions, as I try and internally convince myself not to lose it until I'm in the safety of my own home. Or rather, bedroom. Because I know what my father would think if he were to catch me openly crying about a boy.

     My hands are at the bottom of my sweaters pocket, as I stand at a red light, waiting for the stray of cars to pass, before I know I'm able to cross. My cellphone says late, but I feel as though time doesn't actually exist in this moment of my own momentary heartbreak.

     Because I know that tomorrow I will wake and feel so, so, so stupid.

     My heart begins to pound, when a honk resonates from beside me, as I walk soundly on the empty sidewalk. I look to right, and my breathing slows when I recognize the person in the drivers seat.

     Elijah's car pulls into a slow kind of drive, me not ready for whatever he's about to say, ask or do.

     "Long night?" He asks, my cheeks instantly reddening due to me not being able to control myself during a time like this. Especially while being under the influence.

     "Yes," I answer with a sniffle, "it's been a very, very long night."

     He takes a moment to think, as though the next move he makes requires critical thinking. And when he finally speaks, I want to pinch myself, because it doesn't feel real. Tonight itself, doesn't feel real. "Well, do you need a ride anywhere?"

     And I physically can't stop myself from answering with a rushed, "yes."