I Don't Want to Fall in Love... With You

When I next opened my eyes, the harsh light of the golden sun was streaking in through the curtains and I had an arm wrapped round Emily’s tiny waist as I spooned her on the bed. She snored softly, almost mewing, giving into a daily dream.

Slipping out of my own clothes, I slipped on one of her hoodie dresses and left the room. Immediately, I regretted my decision not to put on shoes.

Making way down the stairs without a creak, I strode into the kitchen with the idea of breakfast. I’d make her a PB&J sandwich to wake up to, as a peace offering.

My joyous mood came to a standstill when I speculated the tall figure already by the fridge, wearing nothing by red tracksuit bottoms. His back was to me, so he hadn't noticed me yet, but instead of leaving and making the rational decision to come back later, I ended up drooling over his... assets.

Elijah was appealing from every angle imaginable, but I didn't think I'd googled this hard over him before. Even when I was crushing.

Nudging the refrigerator door closed with his hip, the packet of turkey nearly dropped out of his mouth when he saw me.

Now, it was his turn to stare.

I could feel myself warming up as I shifted from foot to foot, fingers grabbing the hem of my sweater and tugging it down, though it was no use. The overexposure felt inappropriate somehow.

The silence and uncomfortability meter continued to grow. There we were, just staring at each other instead of doing something productive. A hush never felt so unsure before now.

Blinking rapidly, he was first to test the water.

"Are you looking for breakfast?"

For some reason, I'd gone dumb and my only reply was a movement of my head. As well as avoiding his gaze, if possible.

Shuffling to the side, he finished making his sandwich and, when he bit into it, chewed thoughtfully. He leaned against the door frame for a fraction of a second, before he left for the dining room.

I made Emily her sandwich and stored it back into the refrigerator, returning only to make my own, with the same ingredients Elijah used.

Sitting opposite him on the round table, his eyes were trained on me although I bet he thought I didn't know.

Truth is, as I devoured my piece, he was all that occupied my head. His body, the attention he gave, the breath he expelled; I memorized it all.

"Can we talk about last night?"

Knowing this would crop up somehow, I swallowed my chunk. When I looked up, I didn't know what to do. Look him in the eye, tell him I'd been so clueless and Emily and I were fine?

I'd never been a good liar, so I wasn't about to start for his sake.

"There isn't much to say." I treaded a finger across the mahogany, seeing the swipe of sweat. The light casting on it made it look like a million diamonds.

He chuckled.

"Really? I figured you couldn't talk last night because your tongue was too busy wriggling inside another guy's mouth. I guess that was nothing to you?" His tone implied that it was ludicrous - which it was. The fact we were having this conversation anyway.

I glowered.

"Are you kidding me? For days, you have said that our little trysts are wrong, yet the moment I kiss someone my own age, you get all Dawson on me."

His Adam's apple throbbed, as hands clutching bread grew white.

"So, you wanted it?"

Startled by how easy he made it sound, I shook my head, aggressively.

"No, I never, I..." I trailed off, locking my gaze with his, praying that he see sense. Why I wanted him to, who knew. "I didn't plan on Ryan kissing me. I was shocked, just like you were. I didn't know."

Dropping his piece, I could sense him relax. I guess he believed me, which hadn't been as hard as I'd predicted. I was looking for screaming and crying, maybe some begging too, but not this. Usually, Elijah was especially hard to convince.

When our eyes met, I was once again swimming in the forbidden ocean. Yet, so sick of all the wading, for him I would gladly drown - I sighed.

There was a part of me, the scary dominant element anyway, that wanted more than to kiss him right now. To help confirm that his place in my life would never be threatened by the likes of Ryan Scott.

As if reading my mind, fast like lightning, plates were strewn and shattered on the floor and I was lying flat on the tabletop, legs wrapped tight around his waist. His lips were on my skin, breezing like smoke as he treasured every inch of me. One hand on my hip, reeling me in, as the other lost itself in my hair.

That wasn't the only thing, either. As we struggled to retain our sanity by the time we came up for air.
***

Sitting downstairs watching morning television with the Quinn's was something that came naturally to me, like breathing.

Lately though, even with Elijah and I sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, the tension was palpable, I wouldn't be surprised if my best friend blurted out something to do with it. Then, we'd be forced to tell her the truth, take the punches as they came.

But she didn't. She just chewed her peanut butter and jelly sandwich in peace and rocked to the jingles, as if completely forgiving me for last night's mess.

Finger rested on the back of my neck, pressing lightly. Every time they tapped, I felt like I was out of breath. Out of rhythm. Out of my mind.

His touch was toxic, poisoning me with every brush. I felt like I was fourteen all over again and my whole body blushed at the thought of even his name. I was older now, so why was I like this?

"I'm off to take a deuce. See you guys in half an hour." Sticking out her tongue, Emily padded off to the restroom.

As much as I hated going behind her back, I wanted more than to jump Elijah's bones right now. We'd make out so savagely we'd forget we weren't the only people in the house.

But if she caught us, wouldn't that mean the end of this affair?

Despite how much I loved her, and she was the best I could ask for, I didn't think we could ever tell her about this, even in passing conversation. I mean, it wasn't something you randomly brought up, either. Conjure that fateful dinner!

I nibbled my lip thoughtfully, as Spongebob demanded we use imagination, not knowing how to break the ice this time.

I barely noticed the slip of his fingers, which were now lingering on my clavicle, tracing veins as they protruded. His tips were hot to the touch and electrified my blood, making it circulate through me with double the power and a new sense of desire.

And, in that moment, I realized the crush I had at fourteen had never died.

"Elijah-"

"Sshh." Following his own limb, we both watched as it descended further, past my lumpy shirt and to my exposed legs.

I thought I knew heaven till he traced over each stretch mark and blemish. He was soft, unlike other boys I'd been with, and treated me with the utmost of care.

But, that was the thing, wasn't it? Elijah was a man, he had already grown up. He no longer had to care about impressing girls.

He certainly didn't have to impress me.

Hearing the flush of the toilet, he threw his arm back up, grinning as Emily re-joined us, asking if there was anything we wanted to do today.

Once again, we locked gazes. We couldn't blink, as if too transfixed to dare. To anyone, it would look awkward, but I knew better than them.

If we were going to play a game, then I must ask the question on both our minds...

Eventually, somebody would have to lose - but who would it be?