Inquisitive ✓

Extra: Crossover: You're me?

A/N: I wrote this crossover with a writer I used to write with back when I wrote this book. It's a sort of in-between chapter involving Elija and Elijah from the other writer's story "The Golden Feather" which you can find on Quotev, if you're interested. 

It's not actually part of the story, by the way. It's just an AU. (Also, very much unedited.) You can place it in between chapter 4.2 and 4.3 for context. Have fun reading.

4.2.5 Denial: You're me?

~ Elija ~

That blond guy at the counter has been sending me signs ever since I got here and I don't know if I should act upon it or stay seated at the booth with Mikael, Gray and Seth. Every time I turn my head, the answer is different. When I look at my friends—no. When I look at the guy—yes. God, yes. I just want to get up already and go meet him!

I turn my head a few more times, but the only solution I can find is to just do both. I'll go with that guy very quickly and then return to the booth and stay with my friends for the rest of the night.

I tell myself it sounds like a good plan—a great plan, actually. It's not like I haven't done it before. I'm so fucking clever. I take a last fry from my plate and stand up from the seat. With my mouth full, I tell my friends, "I'm gonna go take a shit."

I could just tell them I'm gonna go see someone in the bathroom—they're used to it by now—but I don't want to, because I always get annoying comments thrown my way when I do it, and I'm not in the mood for those right now. The only way I can make them believe I'm not going to do what I'm going to do is to tell them I'm taking a long bathroom break, so they won't come looking. At least, it'll give me enough time to do this before they come.

"Have fun," Mikael says, making me roll my eyes. That stupid old joke again.

"Yeah, I'll have fun pooping, Mikky."

I turn away from the booth and walk towards the bathroom. I discreetly look over at the guy at the counter and point at my wrist—on the place where I would be wearing a watch, if I had one—telling him to wait a few seconds longer, and he nods with a terribly-hidden grin. Wow, I picked an idiot, didn't I?

I enter the bathroom, making sure all the stalls are empty and seeing, to my dissatisfaction, that the doors don't reach all the way to the floor. Nothing's more a turn-off than hearing someone come in.

Oh well.

I stand by the washing basins as I wait for the other guy to come in. Only a few seconds later, the door slowly opens, the hinges creaking with the movement, and his head pokes around the corner. When he sees me, the grin reappears on his face and he closes the door behind him. Damn, this guy is tall. He has to be at least six foot three or something.

"I don't have much time," I tell him. "I need to get back to my friends."

"Can't you ditch them?" he asks, with a surprisingly low voice.

"No." I can, yes, of course, but I don't want to. I don't want to leave my friends.

"We'll just have to be quick then. Sad." He gives me a once-over, obviously liking what he sees.

Most of the time, it's hard to figure out which of us is going to top, but at times like these, there's no need to guess. If it isn't the whole dom top attitude this guy has, it has to be the hungry stares he's giving my ass. I know it looks good, but jeez, could you be any more obvious? He's not hiding the fact that he's up and ready to go, either. The sight of his erection straining against his jeans is enough for me to get just as hot.