+ LOVING ELIJAH MCCAY +
VOL. 1: CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Daylight peeks through my curtains, my eyes fluttering open, then closed. It feels off, but perfect all at once. I reach a hand up, pushing a piece of hair out of my eyesight. My shoulders are tense from the slumber I've just been woken up from. Sitting up, I look down at my attire, that consists of a large t-shirt that definitely doesn't belong to me.

My cellphone tells me that it's almost five in the morning, but a feeling in my bones tell me something else. Like everything I'm feeling isn't at all real. And that I'm not as present as I think I am.

The sound of a shower running is interrupting my overworking thoughts, as I hold the comforter before me, up to my chest. Just as my restrooms door open, I brace for whoever could be emerging from the foggy room.

My heart makes a sharp divot in my chest, as Elijah stalks out of the restroom. One of my plain, white towels hang lowly on his waist, as he moves as though he's done this a hundred times.

Every confusing thought that I'd been previously feeling, seems to float away almost instantly. Elijah's eyes look over toward me, as his lips lift into a familiar smile. He doesn't seem to mind that he's just come from inside of my restroom, in one of my towels.

My lips are parted dreamily, as my eyes wander down and over his upper body. I don't mean to stare, and this mere thought has me looking back down at my lap in embarrassment.

But I'm staggeringly surprised when he begins to make his way over toward me, his legs making long, languid steps. My legs clench together in hesitation, heartbeat beginning an unsteady beat. He leans over me, a silver necklace dangling just in front of my face.

I pause, letting our breaths morph into one. He's leaning over the edge of my bed, fists pressing into the bed on either side of my waist. I wait for him to something—anything for that matter.

He seems to notice just shocked and awkward I'm feeling, and leaning back a few inches, almost returning to his full height. "Is everything alright?"

I'm not sure how to answer, as my head feels as though it's fogging more and more by the second. I let out a shy laugh, "yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just wondering what you're doing here—not that I don't want you here." My fingers clench together as I wait for a response, watching as his eyebrows raise in question.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here? You don't remember last night?" It all feels so real, yet so fake all at once. I don't know what to think. But when he says this, I rack my brain for what we could've been doing the night before. And I'm angry with my myself when I come up blank.

"N-No," I whisper, just as he's invading my space, again. "I'm sorry, I don't remember."

     Elijah leans in, his lips leaving the smallest of kisses on my forehead, my insides beginning to practically melt. I felt as though my entire nervous system was going to erupt—I'd never been so attracted to someone.

     He chuckled lightly at my expression, lips finding my forehead next, leaving the softest of pecks there. "Shame. I had a lot of fun, and by the sounds of it—so did you."

     I clamped my lips shut, just as my throat threatens to let out the smallest of whimpers. I had absolutely no idea what was going on—but I also knew that I didn't want it to stop anytime soon. "I had fun?"

     My whisper is whispered so quietly, as Elijah leans back once more, hands finding mine, and curling our fingers together gently. I held on rather tight, seeing as I wasn't exactly ready to let go just yet.

     "Yes, you had a lot of fun. Do I need to remind you of just how much fun you had?" His words are so low, so enticing, that my head seems to nod without a moments hesitation.

     Elijah begins to climb forward, lips leaning down toward mine. He doesn't allow them to touch, our lips only mere centimeters apart. So close that we're practically sharing a breath, but far enough that I'm not able to lean into a willing kiss.

     Then, he's leaning in even closer, as my legs begin to enclose around his waist, my white towel that was hanging around his waist, now rubbing up against my bare inner thigh. "Wake up, Gage."

     I lean back, eyebrows furrowing, and cheeks heating from how hot the inside of my bedroom was now feeling. "What?"

     "I said, wake up!"

     The abrupt noise has me shooting up into a seating position, fingers gripping harshly onto my large comforter. Shallow breaths leave my shaky lungs, as I struggle to gain stability. I glance down at my bedspread, then over at my bathrooms door.

     Elijah isn't here. He was never here.

     My cheeks heat up at the realization that I had just had a sexual dream, about the guy that I was so desperately trying to get over.

     It had been a few months since I'd had one, considering I wasn't being even remotely physical with anyone at the moment. Let alone Elijah. It was bad enough I couldn't keep him out of my head when I was awake. And now, it seems as though he's began to invade my dreams, too.

     The sound of someone telling me to wake up is coursing throughout my bedroom door, again. And I realize that it's my mother, shouting at my from just the other side of the door.

     She's knocking loudly, now. "Gage, wake up! You're late for school, and you've already missed practice."

     All of the breath leaves my lungs once more, when she mentions that I've missed practice. With one of our first games of the season coming up, and me being the team captain—it wasn't smart at all to miss a practice.

     And not to mention, Coach would kill me if he knew that the only reason I missed was because I was sleeping. That would not blow over well, at all.

     I'm standing from my bedsheets within seconds, shooting over into my restroom, where I'd speedily ran through my entire morning routine—excluding showering, since I knew there was absolutely no time for it.

     My mother must've heard me rushing, considering she had finally stopped her knocking and shouting.

     After dressing myself, I ran down the staircase and into the family room. My mother was sat soundly on the couch, a large cup of coffee in one hand, and the other lost in Toro's body of fur.

     My father didn't appear to be around, as I assumed that he most-likely went into his office earlier than usual. Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was still hastily running my fingers through my curls, trying to my best to tame them.

     My free hand curled around the hem of my t-shirt, as struggled to take a breath.

     "M-Mom, can you, uh—"

     "Do you need a ride, Gage?" She asks so calmly, compared to my very stressed out exterior.

     I nod, hastily. "Yeah, that would be nice."

     She and I make our way into the garage, with her locking up both the main, and side door of the house. She's brought Toro with her, and is leading the large dog out behind her by a leash, and is fastening him into the backseat of her hatchback.

     I buckle myself into the front seat, and can't help but look down at my cellphone every few seconds, as though trying to will time to slow down.

     But it did not work, unfortunately.

     The drive to school isn't far at all, as even on foot, it isn't any longer than twenty-minute walk. She pulls into the student parking lot, as she knows that my first period is closest to me that way.

     "Thank you, love you!" I shout, as I jog hastily toward my designated classroom.

     I was never really one for being late, as I'd been brought up to be as responsible as can be. And with both of my parents being immigrants who had absolutely no tolerance for irresponsibility and ignorance.

     Just like they'd been taught not to be those things, as well.

     Which was why I was immensely disappointed in myself, when I pushed my way through the junior and senior hallway, and into my first period. Almost every student turned to look at me and my disheveled appearance, as I found my way into an empty seat.

     Ms. Hemings continued speaking after I found a seat, sending me a warning look. I swallowed slowly, slouching in my seat uncomfortably.

     My fingers found themselves picking at the linen sticking out of my jeans pocket, fidgeting lightly with it. I hadn't been paying too much attention to what Ms. Hemings was teaching, being too preoccupied on recovering from the embarrassment I'd felt when walking into class.

     Both messily and late.

     My eyes caught look of that same brown trench coat, eyebrows furrowing slightly. I hadn't known that Spencer was in this class, considering I had always sat in the front of each class, while he usually resided in the back.

     At least, that's what he was doing now.

     We hadn't spoken to one another since the awkward conversation at my locker. Where he needed to ask me a question, but ended up practically running the opposite of me.

     And he hasn't tried to spark another conversation since.

     But here he was, sitting only a foot away from me, in a class that I didn't even know that I shared with him. So, I lifted up my hand, a finger reaching over to tap his shoulder.

     "Hey," I tapped again when he didn't seem to feel me the first time. "Spencer."

     When he finally turns around to face me, I send him a polite smile. His eyes widen for a split second, then he's clearing his throat heavily. "H-Hey, Gage."

     I lean toward him more, watching as he starts to lean further away, Adam's apple bobbing. "How are you?"

     He doesn't seem too interested in speaking to me, and the more that he inches away, the more my confidence begins to die down. I didn't mean to make him feel uncomfortable or irritated by talking to him—I just wanted to know how he was.

     Because what was the harm of making more friends, and having more than one? No harm—or so, I thought

     "I'm, uh—I'm good." When he doesn't ask how I'm doing in return, I know for sure that he doesn't want to have any sort of small talk.

     So, I lean back into my seat, hallowing myself into a wallowed hunchback position, once more, my undivided attention traveling over to Ms. Hemings for the reminder of class.

A/N - I'm sorry if this chapter is a little boring, it's a bit of a filler chapter, as there's kind of a big thing happening in the next one :)

And I just wanted to clarify, if some of you weren't able to catch this, but maybe Spencer is being quiet and standoffish in this chapter, because he's harboring some unspecified feelings toward Gage?