The Expansion of the Universe

Sixteen | "Come hug me."

Liza didn't think she was very good at hugging.

She hadn't been a very touchy person even before the accident; the aftermath of the crash had essentially abolished whatever ability that had been present, leaving her with little understanding of what was and wasn't socially acceptable in her current time.

Perhaps that was why she was so wary as she stared at Elijah later that week.

"I don't know," she muttered finally, bobbing up and down on her heels uncertainly.

Elijah passed her a wide grin. "It's okay if you're worried about hugging me because you don't want to swoon when we touch."

The jest was enough to catch her attention, and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going to swoon."

She absolutely was worried about swooning. Just the slightest touch of his skin had filled her with tingles—the good, fuzzy, lovely kind—and she couldn't even begin to imagine what touching more of him would do to her.

When she'd let him in only a minute prior, he'd bounded in, gave Milo an exuberant rub after gaining Liza's permission, and then had spun to her with all the energy of a five-year-old on Christmas morning and declared, "We should probably hug."

It had taken Liza several moments to understand what he'd said, and, when she had, she'd squawked, "What?"

He'd only laughed and repeated his words.

"You might swoon," Elijah insisted, pulling her focus from her memory. "I wouldn't blame you. I was on FaceTime with Mom the other day, you know? And she said I was looking extra handsome."

Instead of confirming that he was quite attractive—and oh, he was, from his appearance to his personality—Liza forced out a huff of unimpressed air. "Moms are supposed to say that stuff."

The fact that she hadn't heard a compliment from her own mother since the accident rose in her mind, but she was quick to force it back, not wanting to burst into tears in front of Elijah the same way she had with Whitney when they'd tried to discuss her relationship with her mom the day before.

"I don't believe it," Elijah waved her off, but Liza was observant, and she didn't miss the tightening in his shoulders or the wariness in his eyes as he continued, "She doesn't lie."

So, there was something to unpack there.

Whenever he spoke about his mother, he seemed to love her, so perhaps the drama wasn't because of her, but it certainly involved the woman in some manner.

"Well, how do I know that you didn't just pay her off?"

She was pleased when her question brought him back to his normal, relaxed self. "You don't," he agreed. "Maybe I can pay you off, too?"

"That seemed like an admission."

"And you seem to be avoiding my original question."

"I don't remember being asked anything," she snarked, hating the way the spark in his eyes at her returning his teasing made her feel . . . bubbly, almost, as though she was light enough to fly and—for once—not crash and burn.

"Ah, she's astute. Here, babe," he raised his arms by his side, as though he too was preparing for flight, "come hug me."

And suddenly, all bravado was gone. "I . . ."

Elijah's smile never faltered. "If you don't come over here and hug me, I'm going to have to hug Milo, and you and I both know that you'll get jealous if I do that."