Elliott Miller is your average 23 year-old, only with a lost father and a resentful mother. When he goes back to his hometown to make amends, he inadvertently gets dragged into the activities of an illicit criminal group.
Enter Marcel Nixon, 25, wh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My flight back to New York had been uneventful, the kind of uneventfulness that leaves your mind too free to wander. We landed right on time at seven, despite the delayed take-off. It was currently just past eight and I'd already made it through security. Again, quickly. That was probably thanks to it being mid-week.
Since stepping off the plane, my thoughts had consumed by Elliott. I was anxious to call him as quickly as I could, not wanting to stretch out our time apart any longer than it already had been.
Finding an empty bench outside, I pulled out my phone, resting my briefcase next to me. I opened up Elliott's contact and scrolled through our texts from the last three days.
Heeding Violet's advice from earlier, I had finally decided to text Elliott- to check up on him and tell him not to worry. We hadn't spoken much apart from the usual 'good morning' or 'good night,' but I appreciated any sort of contact. A little part of me still felt guilty about omitting so much; the flimsy excuses I told myself doing little to suppress it.
I'd tried to justify what I hadn't said, tried to believe it was for his sake. But especially after last time- after that last episode- I couldn't afford another mistake. I couldn't bear to see that look in his eyes again, the one that told me he felt used, discarded. Last time was a misunderstanding. This time would be a choice. And if I didn't tread carefully, I could lose him for good.
I hit the call button and brought the phone up to my ear, my knee bouncing up and down as it rang for about twenty excruciating seconds. I sighed in relief as he picked up the call, immediately relaxing.
"Hey," he answered. I smiled as the sound of his familiar voice filled my ears.
"Hi love," I replied, the word falling out before I could think better of it.
"Love, huh? That's a new one."
I jumped at the voice next to me, bolting upright and whipping around to see who it was. I ripped off my sunglasses, eyes widening as I locked eyes with him.
My initial shock turned into excitement as Elliott stood there with a cheeky grin and open arms. I pulled him toward me without hesitation, wrapping my own arms tight around his waist and lifting him off the ground. I spun him around a few times, burying my face in crook of his neck and breathing in his familiar scent.
He leaned back in my arms, face tilted up, and I found myself cradling his cheeks with both hands. His skin was warm beneath my fingers and his eyes sparkled in the morning sun. I leaned in, slowly, and he met me halfway. Our lips finally touched, and for a second, everything else melted away. His mouth parted against mine, and I followed, deepening the kiss slowly, falling into a steady rhythm. His skin was electric where it brushed mine, and even through layers of clothing, his hands were like magnets, one gripping the back of my neck, the other fisting my tie lightly as if he couldn't quite let go.
