A year and a half ago, Elijah and Gage swore to keep in touch. But inevitably, things fester and the two haven't really seen each other since Gage's 17th birthday party. But with Gage now starting his first year at Michigan State, and Elijah beginni...
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I can't meet his eyes. We sit across from each other in a booth inside of an empty restaurant. I pick at the peeling skin that surrounds my fingernails, my feet shuffling under the table. Elijah is staring at me. I can feel it. I never meet his gaze, though. Knowing that once I do, he'll want to start talking.
A waiter is bringing us our dishes, a large smile placed on his thin lips. He sets down our cheeseburgers in front of both of us. I almost smile to myself when realizing that whenever we go out for food, we always order the same thing—a cheeseburger. Although, he never gets it with pickles, which I do.
Elijah doesn't touch his plate for the first minute or so, eyes still pinned on me. Until eventually, mine flick up and meet his.
We watch each other for a moment, and I'm sure he's wondering who's going to have the courage to speak first. I'm not surprised when it's him. "Is the burger good?" He asks, taking a small sip from his soda. "I've been here a few times, and it's the foods always okay. Nothing like the street food back home, huh?"
I nod, having a hard time getting down my first bite, "I can vouch for that."
There's another few moments of awkward silence where I struggle to finish off the rest of my burger and soda. This would definitely be the last time I ate here.
"I miss this," he seems surprised by my sudden outburst of admittance. Elijah sits back in his side of the booth, one of his lanky arms slung across the back of it. "I miss just hanging out with you."
He nods, as if to say me too, but he never actually says it out loud. I don't blame him, I wouldn't say it out loud if I were him, either. I wouldn't want to give myself the wrong idea. "Well, we could've been doing this since you started at MSU, like three and a half months ago."
His words are clearly another dig at me, and I send him a dark chuckle. "Didn't think you'd want to."
Before he can say something else, the waiter is back at our booth, holding extra napkins. When he places them down, he doesn't leave before saying, "by the way, you two seem like such a lovely couple."
As though on cue, Elijah and I practically shout, "we're not a couple!"
The waiters face pales, apparently realizing that he's just interrupted a very serious conversation, and he apologizes. Just as he's scrambling away, I groan, hiding my face in my hands, genuinely embarrassed by the way I acted.
"Why does everyone think we're dating?" My words are whispered into my hand, but still Elijah catches them.
He pulls the hoodie of his plaid sweatshirt over his shaved head, scoffing unpleasantly. "You say it like it's such a bad fucking thing."
