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

Elijah's car slowed into an empty parking lot. There were trees surrounding us. Trees and trees, then—nothingness. The entire area was so vacant, so seemingly empty. It was an abandoned train—that seemed like it went on for miles.

     Not many lights flicked from the train, as it probably wasn't parked there anytime near today. It looked sketchy, but fun. A combination I had never experienced before. Elijah brought on a lot of things I'd never experienced before.

     He parked in an one of the many empty slots, picking his key from the ignition. He turned over to me, eyes dazzling with amusement. I must've looked as nervous as I felt. "You okay?"

     I raised an accusatory eyebrow. "No, I'm not okay. This looks like a place you'd take someone and hold them hostage. Is that what you're doing? Because, just so you know—my parents are not rich—"

     He pushed at my shoulder, interrupting my joking rambling. "No, I'm not going to hold you hostage. I used to come here with my friends from Wayland. We used to tell come, bring snacks, and tell ghost stories and shit."

     I nodded along, liking the idea of doing something like that. Rick and I never did anything even close to that. We spent most of our time either at his house, or a party—or school. But it'd be nice to branch out, and find more places to hang out.

     Someplace like this.

     Elijah slipped out of the drivers seat, doing his usual routine of rounding his way over to the passenger side, and pulling my door open. I stood from the passenger seat, letting him close the door behind me.

     I slipped my hands into my sweatshirts pockets, careful not to trip over the graveled road. He did the same, as we took slow steps toward the inside of the abandoned train.

It was dingy and dark. And my mind began to play tricks on me, whenever something would shift, or an unexpected sound would ring through the darkness. My feet stumbled slightly over a large rock, as my hand reached out to hang onto Elijah's hoodie.

He turned over to me in surprise, holding me up by my upper arm. Once I was steady ground he laughed, carrying on walking. "Who knew you were clumsy."

I pushed at his shoulder. "Leave me alone."

He dipped his hoodies pockets, pulling out two, very seemingly small flashlights. He hands me one, and I inspect it with a curled lip. I hadn't expected him to come so prepared. But I guess you should be, when going to visit an abandoned train.

Considering the fact that I'd never been to an abandoned anything.

     As we step foot into the train, a chill runs up my spine. I hadn't meant to scare myself, but while looking into the darkness, I couldn't help but hold onto Elijah a little more closely. Because for some reason, he made me feel safe.

     He didn't seem to notice this, only continuing his walk into the dark train. My fingers tightened around his wrist, as my heartbeat began to accelerate without warning.

     My feet stopped moving once we were inside, hand reaching out to wrap around a metal pole, sticking out from the ceiling. I was thankful for the pole, considering I didn't want to spend the rest of the night holding onto Elijah.

     Even if he didn't seem to mind.

     Elijah took a seat on a bench that was attached to the side of the train, as I took the seat beside him. Our legs were only a few inches apart, but it was almost like I could feel the heat radiating off of him.

     And I looked over at him, green eyes brightening in the darkness—I wondered if he could feel it, too. Because the heat was so intense, so apparent, that my mind began to wander. Because how could he not feel it?

     Elijah set down his flashlight on the spot to the right of him, pulling out his cellphone.

     I frown in confusion, eyebrows shifting closer to one another. I watch as his fingers begin to move quickly, the camera app being pulled up on the screen set before him. He scoots the least bit closer, his arm wringing around the back of my seat, and settling behind my neck.

     I can feel the tips of his fingertips drag against the back of my neck, and the goosebumps are almost instant. He drags them up and down soothingly, as though trying to get my attention.

     My heart warms.

     "Let's take a picture," he almost whispers, leaning his cheek a bit closer to mine. "Come closer."

     Not wanting to reject the offer, I do as he says, our cheeks touching lightly. I can see that his lips are spreading into the widest grin I've ever seen him wear, and I can't help but do the same. My smile is so wide that it starts to hurt.

     But I can't help it. He's being to sweet, so utterly perfect—that I can't help but have this big of a smile.

     His cellphone makes a sound that I'm familiar with, and the picture is taken. He settles his features, although his eyes never stop smiling, even when his mouth does. And that's when I know that his smile was real, genuine.

     And so was mine.

     Elijah lifts his cellphone to my face, showing me our photo up close. It's a beautiful photo, showcasing our happiness apparently. His arm is at the back of my neck, our cheeks are touching, our teeth are showing—and it seems as though we're the happiest people in the world.

     And I almost feel like I could be, when he's right beside me.

     Turning over to face him, I straighten my back. "Will you send that to me?"

     Not wanting the question to sound awkward at all, I add a coy smile at the end of my sentence, running a nervous hand through my curls. He nods happily, fingers beginning to type once more.

     Only a minute later, my cellphone chimes with an alert, and I glance down, seeing that it's the photo. I settle on saving the photo my camera roll later on, wanting to be ever present in the moment with Elijah.

     He slips his cellphone into his sweatshirts pocket, as I do the same. The air is quiet, unsure. I don't know what to say, what to think. It's not an unusual thing to happen when I'm around him—I'm so unsure, so nervous.

     Like I don't know what to do with myself.

     "Tell me something." He speaks, turning over toward me, his body facing mine fully. His dimples are pulsing through his cheeks slightly, and I can almost feel my cheeks redden.

     "What do you want to know?" I ask, quietly.

     He shrugs, eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Anything."

     My fingers push a piece of hair behind my ear, while I clear my voice so that once I speak, there won't be any tremors. "Oh, come on. You have to be more clear than that."

     He brings both arms up to his chest, crossing them. A knowing chuckle leaves his lips. "Fine. Tell me about . . ." He pauses, a more serious sort of look taking over his features. "Tell me something nobody knows about you."

     I can't help the giddy sort of laugh that comes out of the pits of my stomach. His statement is cliche, but heart-warning nonetheless. But then again, everything he says makes my heart warm.

     "Something that nobody knows? You don't have anything better to ask me?" The words leave my mouth in a joking manner, as my leg begins to bounce anxiously.

     Elijah shakes his head, leaning back in his seat, relaxing his posture. "I don't. So, go on—tell me."

     Just as I open my mouth to speak, prepared to give Elijah the answer that he's been waiting for—my lips shut tight when I realize something. It's always him asking me the questions—it's my turn to ask.

     "No, you know what?" I scoot in closer, our legs brushing each other lightly. "You tell me something nobody knows about you."

     "But I asked first," he inquired, a sly grin overtaking his features.

     I laugh loudly. "And I asked second." He seems to enjoy our childish bantering, which I do, too. It makes everything seem simpler, so mundane. Like being with him, being near him, is much more possible than ever before.

     "You go first."

     "No, you go first."

     He scoffs, standing from his seat. I remain seated, when he rounds his way in front of me, leaning his back against the metal pole. "Gage, you go first."

     "No, Elijah, you always ask me questions. And I always answer. Now, it's your turn." I don't mean to whiny, but when the words are spoken, the tone is there.

     Finally beginning to cave in, he unravels his arms from being crossed against his chest. He takes the seat adjacent to me this time, instead of being beside me. His legs are spread out widely, his elbows seemingly digging into his knees.

     As he's leaning forward, I'm leaning back, bringing my legs up to my chest. It's a position I do whenever I'm around him, almost as though I'm trying to comfort myself.

     "Fine," he begins, scratching at his chin in deep thought. He can't seem to think of anything to tell me, and I almost sigh disappointedly at the fact. As I'm starting to think that he won't have anything to offer, he begins to speak. "This is a little embarrassing but—I haven't been in a relationship in a little over a year."

     My heart almost skips a beat at this, as my lips part and my jaw hangs low. I wasn't expecting such an open and honest answer. Especially not while I'm sure that he knew that I still had feelings for him. Or was he simply ignoring that fact?

     His eyebrows are raised high on his forehead, eyes searching mine for a reaction.

     "T-That's crazy," I laugh slowly, trying not to sound as standoffish as I feel. "Really, really crazy."

     He leans back once more, arms returning to their previous position. "And what is that so crazy?"

     His question catches me off guard, as I feel as though the air is being stripped out of my lungs. I don't know how to answer him. Or rather, I do know how to answer him—I'm just too afraid of what he will think of my answer.

     Shrugging shakily, my fingers dip into my pockets for sanctuary. "I don't know, I just figured that you would be dating. Not that it's any of my business, or anything."

     The last of my sentence is a bit rushed, as I send him a reassuring smile. I didn't want to make him feel any kinds of uncomfortable around me. Because I didn't want to ruin the dynamic that we were in the middle of creating.

     Especially with us just re-conjuring our friendship.

     "Dating isn't really on my agenda right now," he says quietly, eyes lowering onto the ground. "But what about you?"

     Once again, I'm caught off guard. I'd never expected him to ask such a question. He's never really seemed too invested in my dating life, not that I ever really expected him to. I know where we stand, and so does he.

     So, why ask me this?

     "U-Um not right now. I mean not since . . . you know." I gesture my hands, referring to Terrance. He nods in understanding, not bothering to speak further on the topic of Terrance. But he does choose to delve deeper into my love life.

     "But you never had a rebound, or anything?" He asks, curiously. His attention is on me, and on me only. I've never been so focused on before, and it makes me feel squirmy. A bad sort of squirmy.

     "No," I say, softly. "I guess nobody else really caught my eye." Except for you.

     "I get you. I felt the exact same way after my last relationship," he began. "But I don't know, I guess I've just been waiting for somebody else to come by, and make me want more, again."

     Nodding understandingly, my fingers begin tighten in a knot in my sweaters pocket. "Yeah, me too. Things were weird after Terrance and I ended things. And I kinda stopped looking."

     We've built an unspoken agreement, in some way. Like we understand one another. That dating is hard, and after a breakup—you sort of lose track of who you were before your relationship. I know that, that's what I felt like after my first breakup.

     If what happened between Terrance and I, even qualified as a breakup.

     "Think you're gonna date again, anytime soon?" He asks, his tone low and genuine.

     "Maybe," I start, "if the right person came along."