Page 21 of Becoming Selfish

“How was creative writing?” Marc asks while keeping his eyes glued to the game.

“Short.”

“Still happy about adding it on to your grad school schedule?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s only once a week, and the professor seems chill. Plus, I think it’ll be a good creative outlet for me.”

He nods his head in agreement but keeps his eyes locked on the TV.

“Actually,” I continue, “your brother is in my class.”

My words cause him to pull his stare away from the TV and look at me. They widen, his mouth slightly gaping open from shock. “EJ? EJ is in your creative writing class?” He begins to laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah, I was surprised too.”

“He must’ve needed an elective to graduate, and this is probably the only one that fit into his schedule. Because, let me tell you, creative writing is not an EJ kind of class.”

I laugh along with him but keep myself from adding onto the conversation, wanting to avoid outing myself to my best friend that I’m more than curious about his brother.

Before I have the chance to change the subject, Marc questions, “Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah, I did, actually.” I quickly glance up to Marc, trying to gauge his reaction with no luck. “I invited him to come along, but he said he had practice or something.” I keep my statement as casual as I can while looking down at the menu.

“He pretty much always has a practice or training of some sort. And he would never skip it just to hang out with us.” He continues to look over the menu, and thankfully, he doesn’t seem too bothered or concerned by my admission.

My heart sinks a bit at his words, but I’m not surprised by them. Eli seems extremely focused on his hockey career, and I doubt he would let anything disrupt that. Not that I would want to.

I think quickly about how to change the subject. I don’t want Marc to assume that I only want to discuss his brother, but he continues anyway.

“I’m glad you guys have a class together. I think you’ll like him when you get to know him.” He pauses. “Well, if he lets you get to know him. He can be a hard one to crack, but don’t let his tough exterior put you off, he’s a good guy deep down.”

Marc’s response put me at ease. I know I don’t need his permission to spend time with his brother, but I appreciate it. Although, I do want to tell him that I’m so confused by his description of Eli. His brother has been nothing but sweet towards me, and I haven’t once seen this “tough exterior” or him being a “hard one to crack.” The only time I saw any signs of this was when he grabbed Patrick, but that was only to protect me.

As I’m about to respond, the server approaches our table with a beer and an iced tea in hand. I decide to keep my inquiries about Eli to myself, and I’m thankful that the conversation has been interrupted without me having to do so.

“I assumed you weren’t drinking, so I ordered you an iced tea,” Marc explains.

The server sets the drinks on the table. “You assumed correctly.” I smile up at my best friend.

Marc and I order a bucket of wings to share and spend the next couple of hours watching the game and enjoying each other’s company. I could hang out with him all day, and we would never run out of subjects to discuss. I just ensure that for the rest of tonight, none of those subjects include Eli.

Chapter 19

Eli

Tuesday started about the same as Monday did. I woke up early to get in an hour on the rink before classes began. Tony, the maintenance guy, made me a spare key so I could come by in the mornings to skate before he runs the Zamboni over the ice for evening practice. After getting a workout in, I suffered through my classes while not really paying attention to any of my professors. The class I was dreading the most is now the only one I look forward to, but of course, that’s only once a week, and now I have to wait until Monday for creative writing.

As I walk out of my final class of the day, I spot Marc leaning up against a post right outside the door. That’s weird; I’m pretty sure he has his own classes right now. Noting the expression on his face, worry instantly floods me. Is everything okay? Are our parents okay? Is Logan okay? I surprise myself by internally asking that last question.

I walk up to him with confusion on my face.

“Hey,” he says solemnly.

“Okay, who died?” I ask with sarcasm, trying to lighten the mood.

He doesn’t respond. He just looks down towards the ground. Fuck. Someone did die.

“Marc, what’s going on?” My heart begins to race. Something is seriously wrong right now. I can feel it in the air between us.

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