Elijah McCay and Me

Vol. 2: One

VOL. 2: CHAPTER ONE

This summer had been the most eventful and gut-wrenching summer I'd ever experienced. Not to say that any other summers I've spent in Romania were any better, but this one was significantly different. My mother and I flew in, in May, and didn't leave until August.

We spent those four months with our extended relatives and my grandparents—even though all they did was give my mother shit about her and my fathers divorce the entire time. To say the very least, after four months, it gets pretty exhausting having to hash it out with cousins who barely even speak your language, and explain to your grandmother that you are definitely gay, and won't ever find the right woman.

It damn near broke that old woman's heart to hear such a thing.

But the summer did have one tiny little perk. Well, actually a rather large perk. And that perk was eighteen, over six-two, and had beautiful blond hair. His name was Luca, and we'd been seeing each other over the last three months of my fourth month long visit.

He was completely gorgeous, sweet, and he was a swimmer. So there was always the occasional rather long nights we spent in my families pool while everyone else fell asleep. Our summer fling was as perfect as can be expected when you're sleeping with someone who looked like him.

But sadly, that ended when my mother and I had to travel back to the states for work and school. At first, I was devastated, obviously not wanting to leave behind the guy I had been seeing—but then I realized. I'm starting college. There will tons of Lucas, maybe even more. So what was I so sad about?

     Because it wasn't like Luca and I had fallen in love or anything, he was just someone new, someone interesting—and most importantly, he wasn't him.

     At the beginning of our fling, I made it very clear that I was trying to get over someone. To which he said he didn't have a problem with. He even offered to help the grieving process a little bit by taking my mind off of it. And man, he was good at taking my mind off of it.

     But now, everything was back to normal. I was starting off the year at Michigan State and my mother had returned to Chicago, where she and my father agreed to sell my childhood home, and find their own places.

Not that I wasn't sad about it or anything, I was just sure that it was the right decision. My mother had been through absolute hell during the last year and a half, and I couldn't feel worse for her. I couldn't imagine having to live in a house bought for my now broken family.

     The last few weeks were a little unsettling. Everything was brand new. New school, new people, new teachers. I wasn't very used to being a new student. But I guess with college it's inevitable.

     I had moved into my dorm just a week before classes started, which was a little late. My roommate and I didn't have very much in common, considering when I was selecting one, I did it randomly.

     He was nice, just a little shy. Never really talked to me much, let alone anyone outside of our dorm. His name was Jeremy, and he drove all the way up here from his hometown in Florida. I didn't ask too many questions during move-in day, knowing that he didn't really seem like the type to give out too many answers.

     My side of the room was explicitly neat and clean. But the same could not be said about Jeremy's. I'm not really sure if it's because I'm an only child and what not—but sharing a restroom and room with someone has been one the hardest things I've ever adapted to.

     Sometimes I'll need to pee, but I can't because he's peeing. Or sometimes I'll need to shower, but I can't because he's showering. It's been a work in progress, but I think I'm getting the hang of it.

     Pushing down the rest of my thoughts, I finish off getting ready for my classes today, settling on a comfortable outfit suitable for sitting through a four hour lecture about psychology. It was—without a doubt—my hardest class. But surprisingly, also the most entertaining.

     I get into my car, driving down toward the building where my class was being held, backpack and laptop in tow. My cellphone buzzes a few moments later, Rick's name lighting up the screen. I press answer.

     "Rick, why are you calling me so early in the morning?" I ask, pulling into the empty parking lot that lets me know I'm early for class.

     He sighs on his end of the call. "I'm bored. All of my classes were canceled today because of a protest happening on behalf of a bunch of students who ate bad meat," Rick chuckles lowly. "I hate New York."

     "No, you don't," I disagree, gathering my things in my hands, turning off my cars engine. "You love it there. Especially now since you've been seeing a certain someone, right?" My words are light and playful, but earn nothing but detest from my best friend.

     "Nope," he says casually. "Had to end that."

     "What?" I ask dramatically, being utterly confused on why Rick would break up with someone he was having such a good time with. "Why did you do that?"

     He hums in pure delight on the other end, obviously not as bothered as I am about this. "Dude, I had to. She wanted to move too fast. After our first date she was like asking if she could meet Kim and my dad, asking if she could be my date to the wedding—it was too much."

     I frown, slumping into the back of my seat. "That sucks, I'm sorry. I know you really liked her."

     Rick hums in agreement, movement now being heard on the other end, meaning that he's finally gotten out of bed. "It's whatever—because now, I'm seeing this girl who tutors me on the weekends. I mean, I don't really need a tutor, but I could really get used to her big—"

     "Alright, Rick!" I interrupt, "I'll have to call you back after my class." My cheeks fluster at Rick's words, knowing that he is not afraid to delve into detail about the girl he's currently seeing.

He laughs, causing me to roll my eyes. "I was going to say big brain, Gage," he says, causing me purse my lips, anticipating his next words. "Even though she does have big b—" I end the call.

     I slide out of the drivers seat, hauling my backpack over my shoulder, while slipping my cellphone into the front pocket of my pants. The walk to the building where my class was being held wasn't too far, but far enough that by the time I got there—I was a little out of breath.

     But in my defense, I hadn't been working out as much as I did in high school. No more baseball meant no more practices, drills, and early morning runs. Now, the only time I jogged was whenever I had the urge. Which was never.

     I found the seat I always took whenever in this class, and sat down quietly. Things had been going good for me—so far.