Page 62 of Devilry

“So, that’s how that went down.” He visibly swallows. “Is it safe to assume if you go with Aiden it will be your first time at a gay bar?”

“Geez.” I place my elbows on the edge of the table and rest my head in my hands. “I sound so fucking lame.”

“Elijah,” Cole interrupts. He grabs my hands and pulls them down, forcing me to look up at him. “Everyone’s been where you are right now.”

“Are you sure about that?” I snap. “Because the more I talk, the more evident it is that I don’t really measure up.”

“Measure up to who?”

“Yo— Everyone.” I try to correct my slip up, but the look on his face tells me it’s too late.

“Me?” His voice is uncharacteristically low, somewhere between hurt and disbelief. “I don’t expectanythingof you,” he spits out.

I catch his anger filled eyes quickly sweeping around the restaurant before he grabs my hands and places them with his in the middle of the table. He leans over them, his voice harsh and direct. “I don’t want anything but your dick in my mouth, so take those unfounded expectations you’ve put there instead, and leave them in that small as fuck shanty town you came from, where they belong.”

13

Cole

Just as I expected, Elijah rears his head back, seeking some distance and pushes himself into the leather cushioning of the booth behind him. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, there was instant regret. But when he started talking about not being good enough and using underwhelming adjectives to describe himself, I just thought of all the insults his parents had probably been slipping into everyday conversation, and wanted to make sure he knew to never put me in the same fucking group as them.

Without a word or a glance at me, he slides himself across the seat and steps out, giving me his back when he stands, then he walks right out of the restaurant.

“Fuck,” I mutter angrily under my breath.

Knowing I need to follow him, I wave down the waitress. She hurries over, her blonde hair swaying with every step, and her best customer service smile painted on. “Is everything okay here, sir?”

“In case our food comes, I just wanted to tell you my friend and I will be outside. We’ll be back in as soon as possible.”

“Not a problem, sir,” she responds unfazed. “I’ll bring you your cold drinks when you return.”

As soon as she walks away, I rush through the restaurant and out the door hoping he’s getting some air, and not finding his own way back home.

He’s standing on the curb, looking down at his phone, the light of the screen illuminating the sadness on his face.

“Elijah,” I call out, while walking toward him. “Elijah, please come back inside. I’m sorry.”

When I’m right next to him, I repeat myself, and hope he hears the sincerity in my voice. “I didn’t mean any of that the way it came out.”

Our proximity must weaken his resolve as he turns his whole body to face mine. His eyes are glassy, his long, dark lashes wet and shiny.

God, I’m such a piece of shit.

“I’m so sorry.”

Filled with such dejection, he stands still, staring at me, refusing to say a word.

“Please come inside and let me explain myself.” Still, he says nothing. “I got defensive,” I start. “I didn’t want you to think you owed me anything. I didn’t want you to think that you had to prove yourself to anyone just because your parents made you feel like that. I didn’t want you to lump me in the same category as them.

“I know I have no right to pretend I know you and your parents, or to judge them, but just from the things you’ve let slip, I don’t want to be held in the same regard as them. Ever.”

He swipes at his eyes and stares at me, everything about him in this moment unreadable. Surprising me, he wordlessly walks away, back into the restaurant.

Feeling at a loss, I stare at the back of him, praying that I can somehow salvage whatever is left of this evening.

We settle back into the booth, and the waitress swarms us almost immediately with both our drinks and our appetizers. Once we’re alone, I watch him stare blankly at the salad that sits in the middle of the table.

I grab one of the small sharing plates and put half of the appetizer onto it. “Here. Have you ever had a Bocconcini salad before?” I ask.

---