Page 28 of Hazel and Elijah Find Out: First They F*cked Around

Quietly, I said, “Look in the mirror above your right shoulder.”

He did and caught the women checking him out. When they realized they’d been caught, they giggled and one of them gave a shy wave. The smallest tug upward of his mouth was the only indication Brooks gave that he saw them.

As they walked away, he conceded, “Maybe it’s not too tight.”

Almost an hour later, I held Hazel’s hand as we entered a chain restaurant. The walls were lined in booths, and there was random classic film paraphernalia on the walls. It was the tail end of the lunch rush, and most of the restaurant was empty. We’d waited for everyone else to commit to a different place, then slipped away like thieves. Finally, having her to myself was well worth it.

The hostess gave us a welcoming smile that didn’t reach her eyes—an expression just as uniformed as her name badge. “How many?”

“Two, please,” I answered.

She grabbed menus and led us into the seating area. Gesturing to a four-top table, she asked, “Will this work?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She left while Hazel and I slid into our seats across from one another.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she said, “I love how polite you are.”

I shrugged, not knowing exactly how to respond.

“Your dad’s polite.” She picked up her menu.

“So is my mom. You’d like her.”

Without looking up from the laminated pages, Hazel asked, “Are you close with her?”

“Yeah, it was kinda just her and me—like we were the only ones who knew what it was like when I was growing up. We’ve always stayed close.”

Hazel laid her menu down. Giving me her full attention, she tilted her head. “Was it that bad?”

I knew she understood what kind of man my dad was better than most people. But that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable to actually explain the nuanced way he controlled me and my mom. I clasped my hands together, swiping the knuckles of my thumbs across my lips. “Uh, looking back, there was a lot of gaslighting. When I got older, Mom and I were able to piece our reality together. You know, there was a way he twisted the truth, and then there was actual reality. And in public, I was just kinda this set piece. I had to anticipate what he wanted and do that. If I got it wrong, he’d get this look, and I’d just know it’d be mental warfare for weeks.” I sighed, forcing some of the tension from my body. “I didn’t know that wasn’t normal; I thought everyone’s life was like that. Then I got older and, I started pushing back, and… Mom got us out of there. And… that was good.”

“That is good. I’m glad she did that.”

“Me, too.” I slid my menu in front of me. “What about you? What was your childhood like?”

“Um… I was an awkward little know-it-all who spent most of her time with books. So… pretty awesome, actually.”

My mind conjured the memory of the little room in the library where she’d taken me the summer before. I pictured her in her mid-teens—the only age I remembered her from when we were growing up—carrying books clasped to her chest, reading quotes about love and longing.

A smile spread across my lips. “That is awesome.”

Logically, I knew we lived hours apart, and opening myself up to the infatuation I’d harbored for her wasn’t wise. The likelihood of us becoming something sustainable was low. But I enjoyed being with her too much to completely ignore the thrill of these feelings growing in my chest.

I lowered my hand to the tabletop, palm up. She laid her fingers on mine, and we curled them. Her short nails pressed into my flesh but didn’t dig. Her eyes were brown pools, lined in sweeping dark eyelashes. I was being pulled into their depths, adrift and happy to be there.

Until the front door of the restaurant swung open, and a wave of voices poured into the dining area. Familiar male faces filed in.

Hazel’s jaw dropped, not even having to turn around to know exactly who just walked into the building. “No, they are not here.”

My laugh was more of a cough. “They are.”

“But they were supposed to go—”

“I know. They’ll sit somewhere else… it’s a big building.”

Then I saw a shitty sneer pull at the corner of Shane’s mouth, and our stupid high school rivalry came back to me in full force. We couldn’t stop getting in each other’s way back then—going after the same girls, trying out for the same position on the baseball team. It had been annoying, and he’d been an asshole. I had the suspicion his basic personality type hadn’t changed since then.

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