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 rest of the night had been peaceful—quiet. Spencer pulls into the driveway of my home and my chest deflates when I notice that neither my mother or my fathers car is there, yet. He parks in the vacant spot, hand reaching for the door handle so that he can let himself out.
My hand reaches out for his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He turns to me, a confused look etched across his charming features. A bubble rises within my throat when I think of what is to come.
But I have to be honest with him, and with myself. This night has been even better than I could've imagined. But it doesn't change the fact that when I look at Spencer, I don't get butterflies—and I don't feel what he feels.
I seem to have gotten lost in my head for a moment, because when he lightly taps my nose, I blink. "I'm sorry, I just . . . I just need to say something."
He doesn't ponder, only nodding and leaning his back further against the front seat. "Go ahead."
Spencer's eyes search mine, not a touch of worry or anxiety looming through them. I thank God that we're both comfortable enough around each other to have the conversation that we're about to have.
I turn onto my side, bringing my knee up to my chest in the passenger seat, leaning my chin onto it. My Adam's apple bobbles up and down, and just as it does, his eyebrows furrow. And I know that he's beginning to catch on to what I need to say to him, because of the look of worry that he now wears.
"Spencer," I begin, tongue darting out to wet my drying lips. "Tonight was probably one of the best dates that I've been on in a really long time," his full lips spread out into a wide grin. "B-But honestly that wasn't because it felt like a date, it was because it felt like we were just two friends, hanging out and talking."
His features don't falter by any measures, his lips only spreading out into an even wider, more comforting smile. He lifts his hand, reaching it forward to caress my cheek. I nuzzle into it, feeling overwhelmed by happiness at the fact that he's taking this so well.
He's too good to be true. And in that moment, all I wanted was for him to find someone who saw that too—only, hopefully they would like him as more than a friend.
"That is what tonight was, Gage," he says, "it was us hanging out, getting to know each other a little better to see if we could ever be anything more. And it's completely cool if we aren't. You seriously don't have to feel pressured into feeling more than you actually do for me."
A long-awaited sigh slips between my parted lips, as his hand continues to caress the crook of my cheek. "I know, I just didn't want you to be upset with me. Because I really did love hanging out with you."
Spencer laughs quietly, free hand reaching over to turn down the radio that was currently playing a song that I wasn't familiar with. "I did, too. And we should really do it again sometime soon. Platonically."
Now I'm laughing, nodding my head enthusiastically. "Yes, very soon."
The air is quiet now, the two of us falling into a comfortable silence. His hand stays put against my cheek, and I can slowly see his tongue dart out to lick at his lips. I can tell that he wants to kiss me, but after our conversation, I know that he won't ever try and go for it.
And I'm grateful for the fact that he's being so respectful, and my heart feels as though he's smiling at how wonderful the aura of his old car feels. I clear my throat, my own hand reaching up to move a piece of his hair out of his eyes, watching as his cheeks flame into a pale red.
My free hand reaches down for his, winding our fingers together. I flip his over, and bring it up to my lips. I place a firm kiss on his palm, watching as he tries to suppress a massive grin along with a bright blush.
He retracts his hand back after I've the kiss, and unlocks his car doors after I've gathered myself. "Thank you again for tonight," I whisper into the quiet, pulling the passenger side door open.
After I've let myself out, Spencer is rolling down the window, parting his lips to speak to me. "Gage, can I ask you something?" He asks, as I stop mid-step, directing my attention toward him again.
"Yeah, of course—ask me anything." I say, stepping closer toward the car so that he doesn't have to yell his question out toward me. Leaning down, my head is now face-to-face with his, as I wait for him to speak.
He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and I notice that his cheeks are no longer red. He leans back onto the seat, hand sliding off of the steering wheel. "Why didn't you feel anything? Tonight, I mean."
I'm taken aback by his question, and it takes me a minute to conjure up an answer. The answer is clear, it is right in front of me—but I'm too afraid to say it, too afraid to formally admit that everything I'm feeling isn't fleeting and it isn't temporary, either.
Elijah is all that I think about, he's always on my mind, always the person who I think of whenever I wake up the morning or before I fall asleep at night. That same feeling that I felt when I first saw him at freshman orientation hasn't gone away. As much as I wish it had.
"I . . ." I begin, having no idea where my train of thought is going, "I think that I'm in love with someone else."
