Pull Over - a short story

Chapter Five - Brothers

Pull Over

Chapter Five - Brothers

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"You asked me for a pencil."

I whisper, disbelief in my voice and my eyes and my heart. Elliott stares back at me, still propped up against the car. He's smiling, but it's shy. He's never looked so shy, and it's freaking me out.

"I had six in my bag. I always had six in my bag." Even numbers, Elliott likes even numbers. "I walked into the room and you were already there. I could tell, just after that, you would always be the first one there." He pushes himself to stand from the car and he takes a step forward. "You had a planner next to you, scribbling down exam dates from the syllabus. Exams and lab reports that weren't going to be due for months. You color coded them. Labs were green, exams were-"

"Red," I swallow. "Elliott..." This stinging in my throat is new, different. It's not from fear or sadness or dread. It's nerves, it's Elliott.

"I'm being an idiot," he laughs nervously. Reaching back to his neck, he scratches a few times. "This could ruin us, I know that. I guess I'm just tired of wondering."

"Wondering what?" I whisper.

Logic – why I became a student, why I list and outline, why everything in my life needs to be planned out. But logic doesn't exist in this moment. It doesn't make sense why Elliott is reaching to rest his hand on the side of my face. It doesn't make sense why he is leaning in to rest his forehead on mine. It doesn't make sense why we are standing on the side of the road in Arizona, exchanging the word love in the form of pencils.

"If Jac Pacey could ever love me the way I have loved her."

Fuck logic.

My hands grip the collar of the shirt that sticks to his skin, and I am breathing shallowly against his lips before it happens. He waits for me, I'm the one who has to do it. He's waited so long and he can wait longer. He wants me to make the decision.

I don't have time to think about it any longer, and I'm glad my brain stops working for once. It's slow, a ghosting of our lips at first before I am pushing in to feel him against me. I feel his body relax as his other hand cups my cheek and he kisses me. He's kissing me, I'm kissing him.

I'm kissing Elliott DeMarco on the side of the road.

What starts slow soon feels fast, so fast. He moves both of us until my back is pressed to the car. I desperately claw at his shirt for any kind of grip, and he massages his thumbs on either side of my jaw. My mouth opens to gasp, and his tongue lightly brushes against mine. "Elliott," I whine and he hums in response.

"God, that's it." He pecks my lips quickly, keeping our noses side by side. "That's all I've ever wanted."

"To kiss me?" I dip my finger into his shirt. He kisses me again.

"To hear my name like that."

The honking of a truck that passes is what pulls us apart. My fingers instantly touch my lips, staring back at Elliott as he mirrors me. Panic sets in.

Elliott. I kissed him, I shouldn't have kissed him, why'd I let that happen? Elliott. My best friend. My best friend for six years and never once had we been so intimate. Elliott. Did he say that he loved me?

"I found a place," Elliott clears his throat. He's holding his phone – how long was I staring at him? "We can call on the way, see if they've got the right size of tires."