Page 89 of Hitting the Goal Line
Elijah’s parents are amazing and are really trying to include me in things as best as they can. Trying to have conversations with me. Trying to get to know me, asking me questions about my life and the types of Christmases I had growing up. I try to answer each and every one of their questions with a smile and as enthusiastically as I can, but it’s their son that is making me overthink what I say and making me wish I hadn’t come.
He’s fine when I just talk about myself or my parents, but every time I mention Blake and his family, hockey or blood, something shifts in Elijah. Whether it be in his eyes or his body posture or how his jaw is set, something changes and I take notice right away.
It makes me think that he is going to blow up and shove me against the wall again for even mentioning my best friend, but he hasn’t done anything. He just stays quiet for a while, and then an hour or so later, he goes back to being his normal self. That is until the topic comes up again.
This has been going on for three days, and I’ve been on high alert since. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Of this holiday, and of how uneasy I feel in this relationship. I want to feel like me again, and I don’t think continuing in this relationship with Elijah will let that happen anytime soon. The call with Blake is proof of that. I have never lied to him like that, and I don’t want to do it ever again.
Footsteps sounds out in the hallway, and I quickly pocket my phone, wiping at my face to hide any evidence that I’ve been crying.
I sneaked away, while Elijah and his dad were watching the basketball game, to call Blake. No doubt in my mind, Elijah has finally notice and has come looking for me.
I did nothing wrong with calling someone that has been in my life since I was five years old, but he probably won’t see it that way.
A part me hopes that the footsteps are of his mom or even his dad, but when the bedroom door opens and Elijah appears, that hope disappears.
“Hey, what are you doing up here?” he asks, coming into the room and closing the door behind him.
I give him a smile, trying to hide all the turmoil I’m feeling. “I was just talking to my mom,” I lie.
“Didn’t you talk to your mom earlier?” he asks, crossing his arm, looking at me like he doesn’t believe me.
“I can talk to my mom more than once in a day,” I say, my defenses going up.
Elijah nods, closing the distance between us. “You could have talked to your mom downstairs. You didn’t have to come up here and talk to her in secret.”
“I didn’t want to disrupt you and your dad watching the game. Besides, it shouldn’t matter where I talked to her. If I wanted to talk to her up here, then I’m allowed to do that.”
“It does matter. Especially If you weren’t really talking to her and instead were talking to someone else,” he spits out, coming even closer to me. The way he is approaching, has me taking a step back.
Like Blake, I shouldn’t have lied to Elijah.
“Who else would I be talking to?” I ask, my voice shaking in the process.
“Maybe Blake?” He snarls, as if even the mention of Blake disgusts him.
Why does he hate him so much? What is it about my relationship with Blake that he can’t stand?
I don’t know, but I can’t take it anymore.
Letting out a sigh, I tell Elijah what he already suspects. “I was talking to him.” I admit. “I’m sorry that I lied. I know how you feel about him, so I just thought it was best that I didn’t tell you. I just wanted to wish him a merry Christmas, that’s all.”
I stand there wringing my fingers together, watching Elijah’s face. It’s completely unreadable and it scares me more than it should.
Elijah just stands there, looking at me, his stance ridged. For a second, I think that he is just going to stand there and not say anything or even walk out of the room.
But of course, I’m wrong.
My mouth opens to say his name, to ask him what is going to his mind, when his hand comes up and he wraps it around my neck, all the while he slams me against the dresser.
“Is this what is has come to? You lying to me? All because you can’t go two fucking days without talking to that fucking bastard? What the fuck will my parents think when they see that my girlfriend is a two-timing bitch that had to talk to another man while in their house?” he snarls in my face, the grip on my neck growing tighter, almost closing off my air supply completely.
“I’m not,” I gasp for air to get the words out. “I’m not cheating on you. I was just talking to my friend.” I say, defending myself, tears burning at my eyes.
“The fuck you were. I see the way that he looks at you and the way you look at him. You want him, just as much as he wants you, but guess what? He can’t fucking have you, because you’re mine and he would have to kill me before he can get his hands on you.”
“Elijah, I can’t––” I start to say, as I claw at his hand to let me go, but he tightens his hold on me even more, taking away my ability to breath.
