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 car was driving rather slowly, as though Elijah felt like he had all the time in the world. My teeth were clenched, and my hands were both knotted up in fists. He'd made no effort to speak to me the entire drive, and I was already beginning to regret getting into the car with him.
Honestly, I was expecting another apology, but while looking over at him in his drivers seat, nonchalantly sitting, it didn't seem like I was going to get one. And I was disappointed to say the least.
I slumped against the passenger seat, my eyes landing on my backpack, that was sitting just atop of my feet. I wanted nothing more, than to just leave his car.
But I also missed being inside of it. I missed the familiar feel of the leather beneath my thighs, the way his scent was embedded in every corner of the car. Or the way that Elijah used to look over at me at every red light, and smile.
Gosh, I missed that smile so much.
But I couldn't go lightly on him. If he wanted to become friends again, he would have to do a lot more than apologize. He would have to show me that he was a friend I could trust, because actions do speak a lot louder than words.
And I wondered if this was his way of doing it. If somehow, someway, us going to his families restaurant, would should me that he was someone I could trust against. I could only hope so.
I watched as Elijah's hand moved toward the center console, and began fiddling with the radio. He eventually chose a slow sort of song, and turned the volume up by several notches.
My ears began to sting at how loudly the music was playing, but I frowned in confusion at his actions. Elijah sat idly in his seat, head bopping to the song. His lips began to move, as the lyrics poured out from them.
He snapped his fingers, following in suit with the rhythm that came from his old radio. My eyes narrowed in disbelief. He'd never acted this way around me before, he'd never seemed so playful—vulnerable.
Elijah continued to dance in his seat, while I continued to give him looks of openly gated confusion.
He glanced over at me, finally giving me the time of day. His hand reached over, and stopped the music altogether, letting out a heavy sigh. I didn't mean to make him feel like he couldn't dance or sing in front of me, but also couldn't help it—it was weird.
His back slumped against his seat, just like mine had only minutes before. His lips seemed soft, yet pouty, as though he was sad almost.
And the friend in me wanted to ask what was wrong, but the other part of me told me that we were not friends, at least not until he made things right.
Which I wanted to be soon. Because I found it hard not being able to talk to him—to hang out with him. It had become routine for me, and now, it was getting to the point where I couldn't imagine a day where I didn't see him.
Maybe it was pathetic, and maybe I was too forgiving for even getting into this car with him—but truly, I wanted to give him another opportunity to make up for the things that he said. I wanted to give him a chance to prove that he could be a good friend.
And maybe someday, a good boyfriend? I almost laughed at the thought. His words at the fair were nothing but proof that, that would never happen.
My head lulled toward the passenger side window, leaning against it with a tired breath leaving my slightly parted lips. "Why are you taking me to your families restaurant?"
My words were quietly spoken against the window, but they were enough to turn Elijah's concentrated head.
"Because I wasn't the greatest friend to you, Gage," he said, his voice lower than usual. And I stopped myself from saying, oh, I know. "And I can see that the verbal apologies really aren't going to get us anywhere."
I frowned, sitting up, and shifting my body toward his. Lifting a leg up to my chest, and resting my chin atop of my knee. My fingers dragged up and down my own leg, as though in a soothing manner. "And how will taking me to a restaurant change that?"
Noticing that my words had been a little harsh, I resisted the urge to apologize for my rudeness, and merely raised an eyebrow, expecting an answer. An honest one, too. "Because I want you to meet three people, who mean the absolute world to me. I what you to see where I grew up, so that maybe, you'll understand me a little better."
I opened my mouth to speak, but he had began, again. "Because I realize now, that we don't really understand each other. And I was thinking, how can we be friends—truly friends, if we don't understand one another. And I believe that understanding, comes with respect.
"And that day at the fair, I wasn't really being the most respectful guy. And I'm sorry for that." I was speechless, because I honestly didn't know how to respond to that. His words were thoughtful, like he'd been rehearsing them over and over again.
His car pulled into a small, colorful little restaurant. A smile instantly took his face, as he parked his car into an empty spot, and took the keys from the ignition. He grabs his wallet from the glove compartment, and once again—I'm greeted with the sight of condoms and water bottles.
Does he ever use them?
I shove that thought down, and watch as he slides out of the car, shutting the door calmly behind him. He makes his way over to my side of the car, pulling the passenger side door open.
The movements he did, looked like they had been done a million times over. But I guess he has, if he says that he's grown up here.
I slide out of the seat, leaving my backpack in the seat, seeming as, I'm sure that we'll be in here for quite a while. Unless today goes exactly the way that Saturday went. Complete shit.
The outside of the building has lights, and it is cute and quaint. It seems aging, but beautiful nonetheless. The sign outside of it, reads Donna's Cuban Cuisine.
The name causes a pang of sympathy to wash over my body. Donna, Elijah's mother had passed away not too long ago, and I knew this already. But what I didn't know, was that this was her restaurant.
And the thought of him wanting to bring me here, of all people—made my eyes water. I'm sure this place held great significance to him, and his family. And I could only hope that I wasn't intruding.
Just as he's about to push open the hefty double doors, he pauses, and looks over to me with a crooked smile. And I know he's going to make a joke. "And just for the record—my dad is probably the whitest guy you will ever meet."
I can't help the laugh that leaves my lips, as I slap a cautious hand over it. "Thanks for the memo." Jeez, Gage, you're supposed to be mad at him.
Elijah pushes the doors open, and leaves them ajar for me to enter first. The nerves are bubbling again, when I hear that they've shut behind the two of us, making a sudden sound. And now, all eyes are on us.
Elijah seems to comfortable, seeming as this is his natural habitat. But it isn't necessarily mine. One of his hands is placed at my lower back, as he guides me toward an unknown destination. "Come on, let's go meet my siblings, first."
