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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Elijah sits in the passenger side of his car with a swollen lip and a broken hand. He holds it to his chest with slight winces of pain, his jaw clenched in pure frustration. After Jeremiah had effectively slut shamed me, Elijah had thrown punch after punch, not stopping until he was pulled off and on the receiving end of one of Jeremiah's friends' retaliations.
I turn onto an empty street, following his GPS systems directions to the nearest hospital.
"I cannot believe you did that." My words are dripping with disappointment, eyes never leaving the road.
Elijah's head snaps toward me, his nostrils flaring. "And what other choice did I have? Let him get away with lying to you and then calling you a slut? Absolutely fucking not."
"That's exactly what you were supposed to do!" I shout, my heart still beating as erratically as it was at the bar. "He is not worth you getting arrested or kicked out of school."
Elijah faces back toward the passenger side window. "He's not," I nod furiously, agreeing. "But you are." Now, he's lost me.
"Do you have any idea how stupid you sound right now? Elijah, nobody is worth getting kicked out of school for! Least of all me." I say a tone softer than before, glancing at the gash cut into his bottom lip, where he would definitely need stitches.
"Can you just drive a little faster and talk a little less, please?" It sounds a lot more like a demand rather than a question.
When I pull into the parking lot of the hospital, the woman at the front desk gives me a blank clipboard, and I spent the next forty minutes jotting down Elijah's information. With his help, of course.
The waiting room is quiet, with only about one other patient waiting to be seen.
Elijah sits in the seat to my left, staring blankly ahead. "And your emergency contact?"
He turns to me, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
"Who do I put down as your emergency contact?" I ask again, holding the ballpoint pen tightly in my hand. The tension still present.
Elijah seems to snap back into reality, clearly his throat. "Uh, I don't know, just put—just put you."
I hesitate, pen still hovering above the paper. "A-Are you sure?" I'd never been anyone's emergency contact before, let alone his. I had no idea he even considered us friends anymore.
"Yeah," his eyes meet mine briefly, "I'm sure." I nod, jotting down my full name and contact information, my face heating with a shameless blush.
After I've slipped the clipboard back to the woman at the front desk, I settle back down beside the injured man, and send him a grim expression.
