Vol. 2: Thirteen

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VOL. 2: CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It's 8:30 when Elijah knocks on my door

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It's 8:30 when Elijah knocks on my door. I'm still standing in front of my full body mirror that hangs idly on my dormitory's door, fingering a curl that had fallen into my eye. I take a step back to smooth a clammy hand down my t-shirt, taking another moment to pull up my low-rise jeans that had began to fall down my waist.

When I pull the door open, Elijah stands there with a blank sort of look on his face. One I have a little bit of trouble deciphering.

His eyes scan my figure from the white sneakers on feet to my dark brown eyes. I stand still and let him. And I can only pray that he can't see how hard my heart is beating in my chest.

Perhaps I'd worn something a little too tight. Perhaps I was still a little irritated about my night with Jeremiah. And perhaps I was wondering if I would catch the attention of anyone who was at the bar.

Anything to get my mind off of the heat radiating off of Elijah's body. And the way his curls are beginning to sprout from the top of his head, recovering from its buzzed-cut.

Or the way his black oversized jean jacket hugs his squared, broad shoulders in a way I wish that I could.

It only takes me a few moments to realize that I'd been ogling him since he arrived. I quickly reached behind me toward my bedside table, snatched my wallet, and shoved it into my pocket.

"Let's get out of here." I shut the door behind me, not giving him a chance to see inside.

He places a hand on my elbow, enveloping it with only four fingers. The gesture leaves my knees weak. "You aren't gonna to be cold?" He gestures to my one-size-too-small shirt.

I look down at my torso, debating slipping inside and grabbing a jacket, before deciding against it. How was I supposed to find someone to hook up with if they couldn't even see me? Not that I was going there to find someone to hook up with.

After assuring Elijah that I'd be fine, we made our way down to the parking lot and I slid into the passenger seat of Elijah's car.

Memories of high school and the way I used to feel when I would sit inside of it resurfaced. And just like that, I felt like my sixteen-year-old self again. The stupid kid who was shamelessly crushing on an older guy who'd never even look twice at him.

"So," Elijah begins, eyes never leaving the road, he leaned back a bit in the drivers seat, thick thighs widening. My eyes bashfully traced his lap before returning to hold his eye contact. "You had some company last night, yeah?"

My spine is suddenly rigid. I had not been expecting to talk about Jeremiah tonight. Even if the two hardly knew each other, if at all.

"Um, yeah—kind of." My tone is flat, clear that I'm not in the mood to give any sort of details.

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