Gage Cilleti has just begun his junior year of high school, and is becoming more and more involved in his school's activities, considering he'd been playing baseball since he was just seven-years-old.
Elijah McCay has just dropped out of school, du...
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The thoughts are persistent, and loudly blare through the hallowing of my head. My fingers clutch at the sink settled into the wall before me, my breathing mildly irregular. The nerves were there. They were very much there.
I couldn't quite figure out why I was so nervous, to begin with.
I'd hung out with Elijah a handful of times. But the thought of going there, and being the only outsider, nearly tossed another body of nerves right into my nervous system. I'd be the only only person there who wasn't a high school graduate, and better yet—someone they'd never met before.
I could only hope Elijah had fed them good things about me. And although, I didn't know if I was exactly comfortable about him speaking about me when I wasn't around—that thought alone racking up another bundle of nerves.
What could he say anyway?
The shower that ran behind me, began to echo throughout the four walls of my restroom, steam riddling up against the mirror before me.
My fingers kept tightly wound against the towel that hung around my waist, and my free hand ran through my tangles of misfitted curls.
I'd been debating on whether or not I wanted to cancel, considering these nerves in the pit of my stomach just would not settle. I internally cursed myself for being so fucking nervous about something that could so smoothly.
If I simply wasn't myself.
Just as I'd made my way into my bedroom, and switched on the overhead lighting that hung from the roofing of my bedroom, my cellphone began to ring.
The ringing startled me, as I rounded my way over to the desk where it lied, usually quietly. It rang some more, and I struggled to grasp onto the name that it displayed in bright, bold letters.
Elijah.
My hands began to tremble as I pictured the boy behind the screen, and the white towel that previously sat on the waist—fell without grace.
"Shit!" I cursed aloud, bending forward to grasp the towel once more, only to realize that the ringing coming from my cellphone—had stopped. My mind continued its work at a million miles a second, and I stopped for just a moment—
Would the phone ring again?
Or would Elijah simply think that I didn't want to go anymore, because my towel fell from my hips, leaving me absolutely bare, and I had to use those mere seconds to pick it back up.
Because I could only imagine the trembling that would be in my voice, had I picked up the phone towel-less.
