Page 66 of Devilry

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Try me.” He presses his mouth to the corner of my lips, testing my resolve.

Releasing his hips, I take hold of his hand and lead him across the road. We walk in a hurried silence, our destination consuming our thoughts. He chooses to stand outside while I go in and get a bottle of sauvignon blanc and a six pack of beer, because the threat of getting caught and losing my job isn’t enough, let’s just add trying to coerce a minor into drinking alcohol to my transgressions.

With one hand holding the six pack, and the other clutching the wine to my chest, I step out to find Elijah on his phone.

“Yeah, man, I’m sure,” he says to whoever is on the other end of the phone. “You and Callie go. I don’t know what time I’ll be back.” As he’s listening, his eyes watch me walk to him, flicking his focus between me and my full hands he reaches for the wine and takes it off me. “Okay, I’ll see you both later.”

I don’t ask who it is, because it’s both none of my business and I don’t want him confirming my suspicions.

“It was Aiden,” he reveals as we start walking again.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I wanted to.”

I tighten my hold on the beer, channeling my irritation somewhere much more appropriate than at Elijah. I’m torn between wanting to know, regardless of my right to it, and never wanting to hear that fucker’s name again when we’re together.

His shoulders rub against mine as we walk; his touch dissolving the tension.

“Can I ask you something?” I say.

“Of course.”

“Why do you tell me?” I take a deep breath. “The kiss? The birthday plans? The phone call?”

“Can I answer when we get inside?”

His need to delay his response keeps us in silence, neither of us knowing how to move on to more trivial conversation.

He keeps himself close to me and the contact makes me feel less on edge about whatever it is he wants to divulge. Every step takes us further down this path of the unknown, where the company becomes more appealing and more seductive. Where the risk is high, but the reward, against all odds, feels great.

When we make it to the front of my place, the anticipation of being alone and vulnerable is palpable. As soon as we pass the threshold, Elijah follows me through the living room and into the kitchen. Standing on either side of the counter, I place the six pack on the top and he sits the wine beside it.

“How do you want this to go?” I blurt out, wanting to avoid any form of silence.

Grabbing a bottle of beer, he twists it open and hands it to me. “Something to keep you company.”

Surprised, I take it and lift it to my mouth for a swig. “You buttering me up?”

“More like I’m trying not to scare you away.”

14

Elijah

Itry to keep my composure calm and neutral, despite the way my heart rattles inside my chest. When talking with Cole, I realized how difficult it is to tell him about myself without rehashing the past. Physically I’ve left it behind; mentally I’m better off away from there. But if I want Cole to know more about me, the ugly stuff is going to have to come out too.

He walks around the counter, his face unreadable. He juts his chin out to the seating area, and together we make our way to the large three-seater. Spreading ourselves comfortably on the couch, we sit on either side, our backs leaning against the arm rests. My body faces his, my arm resting on the back of the couch, and one of my legs bent and resting on the cushion. “The reason I always tell you about Aiden,” I start. “is because he and Callie are not just the first, but the only friends I’ve had in a little over two years.”

Pity flashes in his eyes, passing just as quickly as it came. “I know you know my parents didn’t approve of my sexuality. When they found out…”

Swallowing hard, the words involuntarily stop, my voice trailing off as the memory I often keep in its own little box reappears.

I close my eyes and my father’s expression of disgust sears itself onto the back of my lids. The way his face morphed, the different shades of color that matched the change in his mood. It started as a blush, bloomed into crimson, and then his pale skin settled into a chilling blood-red hue. The physical transformation was scary. But it wasn’t until my shocked brain registered the words of hate spewing out of his mouth that I realized, my world as I knew it, would never be the same again.

“I didn’t want to risk anyone looking at me like that,” I say before opening up my eyes. “So I stopped putting myself in situations where I would have to interact with people.”

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