Brighter Than The Stars: Book One

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝐹𝑜𝓊𝓇: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝓃-𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃

"So, what time are the two of you getting here on Wednesday? Wednesday is still the plan, right?" Her mom asked.

Madeline grasped the cup of tea in her hand above her lap, while she held the phone in her other hand, and looked out the window at the fresh falling snow. "We're still planning on Wednesday. Elijah thinks his boss is giving everyone a half day of work, so if that's the case, probably around five. But if he ends up having to do a whole day, we won't get there until nine."

"And how are the two of you doing? Is everything still emotional, or are you hitting your stride?"

"Something in between," Madeline admitted, watching as the snow grew heavier. "Eva calls it intensity, so if I had to put a number on it, I'd say we dropped to a six compared to the off the charts level we were at before. Last Monday, I had to practically force him out of the apartment. He seemed legit scared that if he went to work, I'd vanish or something. This morning he just kissed me on the temple, since I got to sleep in, and told me he'd see me at six.

"I met his friends on Saturday, which went pretty well." Madeline left out the part at the beginning when he was fully prepared to punch one of his friends for flirting with her. "I think we're finding some normalcy."

"So, the two of you are still sharing a bed?" Her mom asked, her tone just an octave higher than usual.

Madeline brought the cup up to her lips and took a slow drink, allowing the liquid to warm her insides on the particularly bitter day. "We're still sharing a bed, yes. Last Wednesday, he had to be at work earlier than usual, and I had a late class, so we tried to skip it. He ended up calling me at two in the morning after a nightmare and was in my bed a half hour later.

"I don't know how this could possibly work long-term. If he ends up dating someone, I think she's going to take some issue with the arrangement. But I can't just let him suffer through nightmares if I have this weird power of being able to keep them away."

"Nothing torrid happening in that bed, then?"

Madeline was well aware of what her mother was asking. Even if it wasn't completely obvious by the words alone, the playful tone in her mother's voice synched things. "Not a thing. Why? Are you disappointed?"

"A little," her mom admitted freely. "With the way you two were acting while your father and I were there, unable to stop holding each other or staring, I guess I just assumed it would develop into a full-fledged romance by Thanksgiving. I guess I'll have to wait until Christmas for that."

There was that part at dinner where his friend Jack admitted Elijah had spoken to them about her looks. Jack used the word 'gorgeous', Madeline used the word 'pretty', but she wasn't sure what word Elijah used to describe her appearance, and hadn't dared ask.

But whenever they watched a movie in the evening, he had shown no signs of wanting more. His fingers didn't travel anywhere other than her hair, shoulder, or arm.

Truth was, Madeline wasn't certain how to tell the difference between desire and friendship unless it was glaringly obvious. Especially a friendship like theirs.

He was extremely attentive, asking if she needed or wanted anything before he came home or when he went to the kitchen. He was actively trying to make her feel comfortable there. When he noticed her lavender candle, he'd bought her three more, along with lavender bath salts and lotions.

Elijah gave her more eye contact than Madeline was used to. He never looked away when she spoke and always allowed it to linger a few moments after the conversation ended.

There was a small level of teasing, but nothing flirtatious.

The only thing that made her question anything was the sound of his voice. When he spoke to others, especially at the dinner, there was almost a slight gruff to his voice. There was something completely ordinary about it. But when Elijah spoke to her? There was almost a whisper effect in his tone, as if he were speaking a melody.

"You still there, kiddo?" Her mom asked, just as she felt a key hit the door.

"Elijah's home. I'll call you Wednesday morning to give you a clearer idea of when we're getting there."

He opened the door, two plastic bags hanging from his left hand, and gave her a smile that reminded her so much of his whisper voice.

"Okay, sweetie. Love you!"

"Love you too, mom. Bye." Madeline hung up the phone and tossed it beside her on the couch.

"It's getting wicked out there," Elijah told her as we wiped his hand through his hair, water droplets splattering. "We're done with work at one on Wednesday, by the way."

Madeline set her mug on the end table, then lifted her body from the couch to inspect the bags of takeout filling the room with a delectable aroma. "How are the roads?"

"Shit," Elijah replied in an instant. "I got a sick pleasure of someone passing me, honking their horn like an asshole, then seeing their car sideways half a mile later. Italian good for you tonight?"

"I effing love Italian," she told him, the giddiness already taking over.

Elijah let out a low chuckle as he placed all the contents of the two bags on the small bistro table in the kitchen. "Well, good, because I ordered enough for tonight and tomorrow. I hope you don't think less of me, but I'm a sucker for reheated pasta."

She knew that for many, reheated pasta would be blasphemy. In fact, her own friends had given her grief for it on more than a few occasions. "I love you so much right now, you don't even know."

Elijah just gave her a wink as he turned to grab the plates.