The Expansion of the Universe

Thirty-Three | "I'll leave Oreo crumbs all over your blankets."

Elijah was rarely nervous, from what Liza had witnessed. His personality was naturally very easygoing and confident, so it was odd to see him unsettled in any way.

Liza, however, knew all about anxiety, and—regardless of how odd it was to see someone like Elijah appearing so troubled—she could certainly understand why he was worried.

"Why don't I just stay here with you?" Elijah asked, whirling to face her from where he'd been pacing around her kitchen island. "Who's going to cook dinner?"

"I barely eat dinner as it is," she argued, though the words only made Elijah scowl at the reminder that she had a poor appetite. "Plus, you made plenty to last." He'd stocked her freezer full of items just the day before, knowing he was going to be gone for two weeks, and fretting about her eating habits.

He was quite the mother hen, her boyfriend.

Slam-skip-slam! Her heart screamed at Elijah's new title.

"Yes, well," he faltered, his fingers tapping idly against his chin. "Ah!" he snapped his fingers and pointed at her, as though she herself held the answer to whatever question he was asking himself. "I need to be here, so Milo doesn't get lonely!"

She raised a single eyebrow. "Milo has me."

"Well, he needs me, too!"

Liza glanced down at a perfectly content Milo, who was leaning against her leg, since he couldn't place his head in her lap due to the height of the barstool upon which she was seated. "I think he'll be okay . . ." she mused.

Elijah huffed unhappily. "My Liza, you aren't helping."

She scrutinized him for a long moment, taking note of the way his foot slapped against the floor, and how the hand not waving about was skittering about the countertop in a panic.

Elijah wasn't just nervous—he was scared.

She frowned at the realization, hoping she could help soothe him, like he always helped her. "Elijah," she stretched her hand out over the island, snagging his fingers with hers and squeezing. His eyes slipped up, until their gazes collided, and he squeezed her hand in return.

"Yeah, Liza?"

"What are you scared of?" He had told her previously that he went and saw his parents relatively regularly, and, although he and his dad weren't on the best terms, it seemed as though the two men more or less avoided each other while Elijah was there, so she wasn't sure specifically what he feared.

Elijah, realizing he could no longer deflect with humor, blew out a lengthy puff of air. "Honestly, babe?"

"Honestly."

"I'm not sure." He scrubbed his free hand through his hair, clearly stressed. "Normally, these visits just suck, but I don't feel this nervous before them. There's just this feeling in my gut, though, you know? A sort of sick feeling, like something really bad is going to happen." His throat bobbed with his swallow. "I don't like this feeling, doll. I don't even know if I'm explaining it right—it doesn't really make sense, even to me."

The hand not holding his dove into the baggy fabric of her sweatpants and clenched tight. He didn't have to explain it. Not to her. She knew the feeling of unexplained and unwelcomed terror better than most. "I get it," she told him honestly.

His eyes met hers, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know you do. I don't mean that it doesn't make sense to be worried or anxious—I just mean that I'm not used to it, and it's knocking me off-kilter."

She cracked a grin, not in the slightest bit offended. She could vaguely recall how confident she had been before the accident, when the greatest of her worries was usually related to car trouble and running late to work. "You're just too suave," she joked quietly.