Amara

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Cleaning the dishes, I took a deep breath, relieved that dinner had ended quickly. Elisha was at the sink, scrubbing away, while I stood at the counter, drying the dishes.

"This has been our chore since middle school," I remarked, as Elisha washed and I dried. I'd always hated doing the dishes—used to throw a fit about it, too. Thankfully, Elisha had always been there to help me out, even back then.

"Yeah, we always end up stuck with it," he replied, his voice carrying a familiar tone of acceptance. I nodded, falling into the rhythm of our task like we'd done a hundred times before.

Suddenly, Elisha glanced over with a smirk. "You're daydreaming again."

I blinked, snapping back to the present. "What? No, I'm just... mentally preparing to dry another plate," I snapped out of my thoughts.

He shook his head, amused. "Do you need me to drop you at home?"

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."

"I figured you didn't drive here," he said with a laugh.

I grinned. "You know me too well. My brother picked me up from my apartment earlier."

As we finished up the dishes and said our goodbyes, my mother gave us both a warm hug. "Thank you for coming, Elisha. And Amara, make sure to bring Eric when he returns."

Elisha and I stepped outside, and he opened the car door for me. I slid into the passenger seat, and he climbed in on the driver's side, starting the engine.

As we drove away, I glanced over at him. "So, how's everything going with you?"

Elisha smiled, though his eyes showed a hint of fatigue. "Work's been busy but rewarding."

"That's great to hear," I said, trying to sound interested.

We chatted about work and other general topics. However, I could sense Elisha's gaze lingering on me more often than usual, a thoughtful expression on his face.

He finally spoke up, his voice gentle but probing. "Why have you been avoiding questions about Eric?"

I tensed, focusing intently on the passing streetlights. "It's just wedding stuff. You know how it can be—overwhelming."

Elisha's gaze bore into me, sharp and unyielding. "You're not usually this evasive," he said, his tone steady but probing. "What are you hiding?"

I felt the pressure building, but I managed to keep my expression neutral. "I'm not hiding anything," I replied, my voice light, dismissive.

His eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced. "Come on, Amara. It's more than wedding stress. I can tell."

I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. "You're overthinking it, Elisha. Not everything's some big mystery."

He tilted his head, the skepticism in his eyes deepening. "You're not fooling me. What's really going on?"

"I told you, it's just stress," I said quickly, a little too quickly. I forced a smile. "Everyone gets like this before a wedding. It's normal."

Elisha's brow furrowed. "Normal? You're dodging every question I ask."

I felt my pulse quicken, but I stayed calm on the surface. "I'm not dodging anything. You're just reading too much into it." I glanced away, pretending to be distracted by something on the table, anything to shift the conversation.

"Amara," he said, his voice firmer now, "stop avoiding this."

I sighed, shaking my head. "There's nothing to stop avoiding because there's nothing there."

He stepped closer, his persistence unwavering. "There is. I can see it in the way you keep deflecting. Just tell me."

I shook my head again, refusing to meet his gaze. "Elisha, it's not that deep."

His frustration was palpable now, but I could feel his restraint. "You're still dodging. Why won't you just talk to me?"

"I am talking," I said with a thin smile, keeping my tone light, as if this whole conversation was unnecessary. "I'm just not talking about whatever drama you've cooked up in your head."

Elisha's jaw tightened, and I could tell he was losing patience. "You're avoiding something, and I'm not going to let it go until you tell me."

I crossed my arms, my stance more defensive now. "There's nothing to tell, Elisha. You're making a big deal out of nothing."

He exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated. "Why won't you just be straight with me?"

I finally met his gaze, my own steady and unyielding now. "Because there's nothing to be straight about." My voice was calm, firm.

Elisha stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, waiting for me to crack. But I stood my ground, holding his gaze with a quiet resolve. Finally, he let out a slow breath and took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice low but resigned. "If you're not ready to talk, I won't push."

I relaxed slightly, relieved he was letting it go, at least for now. But I could see in his eyes that he wasn't convinced. Not even close.

He crossed his arms, looking away for a moment, then back at me. "But just so you know," he continued, his tone softer but still firm, "I'm not buying it. You might think you're good at hiding whatever this is, but I can see right through it."

I shifted uncomfortably, but I didn't respond. There was no point. I'd already said all I was willing to say.

He watched me, waiting for more, but when it was clear I wasn't going to say anything else, he sighed and nodded, though the tension in his posture remained.

The silence between us was thick as we drove, Elisha's grip on the wheel tight, his gaze fixed straight ahead. I could feel the weight of his unasked questions lingering in the air, but for once, he didn't push. Instead, he turned the car onto a familiar street, and it wasn't long before the small ice cream stand we used to visit as kids came into view.

I glanced at him, confused. "Really? Here?"

He shrugged, his tone casual but laced with tension. "Seemed like you could use something familiar."

I stayed quiet as he pulled into the parking lot. It was the same as always: the flickering neon sign, the smell of sugar and vanilla wafting through the air. It was hard not to feel a tug of nostalgia as we parked. Before I could say anything, Elisha was already out of the car, heading toward the counter. I hesitated for a moment but followed.

When he ordered, he didn't ask what I wanted. "One banana split no peanuts but extra whipped cream," he said, his voice almost soft as he looked at the cashier.

I raised an eyebrow at him when he turned back to me. "You still remember my order?"

He smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "How could I forget? You always forced me to get it so we can share."

We found a bench near the stand, and when the banana split arrived, he set it between us like it was a peace offering. He handed me a spoon, and for a few moments, we ate in silence, letting the ice cream melt slowly in the summer heat.

After a while, Elisha leaned back against the bench, his eyes on the sky, still not saying much. But the tension from earlier was starting to fade, replaced by something softer, something familiar.

"You always used to steal the best bites," he said, his tone lighter, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I smirked, scooping up a bit of the whipped cream. "Still do."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "My mom would get upset when she found out your mom took us here"

"She's such an almond mom" I laughed.

For a while, we just ate, lost in the quiet comfort of the moment. The sweetness of the banana split and the memories tied to it made the heaviness of our earlier conversation feel far away. It was like we were kids again, sitting here after school, forgetting the world for a little while.

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