A Little Bit

Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Eli

I don’t know how much time passes. Winter break comes and goes with me awkwardly celebrating Christmas at my parent’s separate houses, each of them desperately trying to avoid talking about the elephant in the room. Dad tried to do lots of stuff to cheer me up when Mom informed him of what happened, but nothing worked. I spent most of the break in my room, smoking and being angry at the world.

Mom made sure to stay in my dorm for a few hours on the day we found out, both of us trying to console each other until we could sense that we just needed to be alone.

I couldn’t really process everything with her there. And honestly, I don’t think I’ve done much “processing” since then.

All I can really keep thinking is that life is fucking unfair.

I never fall for anyone. Ever since my sister passed, I’ve kept myself meticulously closed off, making sure no one could come in. No one could make me break my promise to her.

And then, of all the people to do it, it’s him.

He healed me and somehow, he’s also the person who broke me in the first place.

What the fuck am I supposed to make of that?

I’m dying inside and he’s the only one who can make it better.

His eyes stare at me from the black canvas. I want to destroy it. Take one of my shitty kitchen knives and fucking stab it. I’ve gotten close a few times. Staring at his eyes with the hilt fisted in my hand, angrily clenching and unclenching my fingers around it—but each time, I put it down. I have to finish it. Have to.

I’m not going to examine why.

I just want to stop thinking about him. Remembering everything. His smile. His skin. How he felt underneath me. In my arms. In my soul.

Because whenever I remember all of that, I remember what he did. And I’m destroyed again.

He killed her. My sister. If he wasn’t alive, she would be.

And he knew and didn’t tell me.

There’s no coming back from that. There can’t be. I won’t let him.

Maybe I just need someone else—someone to distract me. Anything to forget.

I pull out my phone, scrolling right past all of Katie’s texts demanding to know if I’ve been murdered because I won’t come to the door when she knocks.

I should talk to her. And I will soon, but I’m just feeling too depressed to have her say “I told you so.”

My movements still over his text thread, which has been silent since the day he left here. And that’s a good thing. I don’t want to hear from him. I should block him. But again, I can’t.

Finding the message I want, I type out a quick text and throw my phone on the bed while I shower and change the clothes I’ve been wearing for three days.

When I’m done, I see I have a reply and pull it up.

Me

Wanna hang out tonight?

Terrence

Yeah :)

The bass bumps through my body, while all of these people I couldn’t give two shits about dance and mingle in a house I don’t even know the owner of. Terrence just said there was a party here, so I went. I drain the rest of whatever is in my cup. It burns and everything is starting to look fuzzy, so I guess it’s doing its job.

I try to pull my focus back to the person sitting next to me, our knees pressing together while he excitedly talks about something that I think is important to him, but I can’t seem to keep my attention there.

This was supposed to distract me, but all it’s doing is highlighting all the ways that they’re different.

Warren’s hair is lighter.

Warren is quieter.

Warren is more timid.

Warren wouldn’t run his hand up my leg like Terrence is doing right now.

I feel nothing. It tickles, maybe. But not in a sexy way. In the way that it’s annoying and I want to smack it away.

I lean forward, struggling a bit to set my cup down on the empty coffee table in front of us. I think I’ve got it, so I let it go, only to watch it tumble off the edge.

Shit. Maybe I need to slow down.

How many drinks have I had? I wasn’t counting. Just tried to make the feelings go away.

“Eli?” Terrence asks with annoyance in his voice.

“Huh?” I mumble, dragging my gaze from the cup on the floor to his face.

He lets out a small huff. “I asked if you were still talking to Warren?”

I shake my head. “Never was.”

He gives me an I don’t believe you look and for some reason, it really pisses me off. I mean, he shouldn’t believe me. I’m lying. But still, fuck him.

I stand, making the room slightly spin. “Let’s hook up.”

It’s abrupt, but I don’t care. Maybe this is helping—getting me back to my old asshole self.

I start walking toward the stairs, him trailing wordlessly behind me, even though I have no idea where I’m going.

When we get to the top of the stairs and it’s obvious that I’m completely lost, he grabs my hand and pulls me into an empty room, clicking the lock behind him.

He comes at me quickly, rushing his steps as he mumbles, “God, you’re so fucking hot,” right before his hand reaches for my limp cock.

The moment he touches it, it feels all wrong. His hand is smaller and softer, but his movements are more confident.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I let him try for a few seconds, shutting my eyes tight as he moves his hand up and down the crotch of my jeans, but my dick is honestly dead.

It doesn’t want him.

I gently put my hand on his shoulder, easing him back.

“I don’t think…” I let my words trail off into nothing, but he gets it. I can tell from the frown he’s trying to hide from me in the darkness of the room.

He manages a slow nod and tries to keep the irritation out of his voice, but I hear it. “It’s because of him, right?”

I just shake my head as I stumble away from him, just barely making it through the door without falling over.

Once I get downstairs, I start making my way toward the exit when a blond head of hair catches my eye. He’s over in the corner, surrounded by people I don’t know, but he’s just looking at me. Sweater. Khakis. Blue eyes.

He’s got to be fucking kidding me. He thinks that he can still fucking follow me around after what he did. That he’s entitled to fucking look at me. He’s out of his goddamn mind if he thought I wouldn’t see him. I always see him. Even when he’s not around, I fucking see him.

The alcohol in my system makes me charge over to him, grabbing his shirt in my fists and yanking him closer, lifting him slightly so he’s right at eye level. “You think you get to still fucking follow me around, sailor?”

“Dude! What the fuck are you doing?!”

I blink, readjusting my eyes to really focus on who’s in front of me.

It’s not him. Just some guy with blond hair who isn’t as pretty as Warren.

He jerks away from me, a startled look on his face. “Fucking get off of me, bro. I don’t even know you.”

I stumble back, tripping over something and falling on my ass. A collective “ooh” sounds from the crowd around me. I flick my eyes up to see that everyone has backed up from us, all of them staring and whispering while they form a tight circle around me and the blond guy.

A familiar face pushes their way through the crowd, glaring at everyone. “All right! Everyone move on! You’ve got nothing better to look at?!” Katie yells before crouching in front of me. “Eli. What’s going on?” she asks quietly.

“I’m sorry. I-I gotta go,” I mumble before scrambling up, leaving her behind and pushing everyone out of my way, weaving through the throng of bodies, trying to get to the exit.

I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t get rid of him. I’ll never get rid of him. He’ll live in my brain for the rest of my life, eating me alive.

“Eli Johnson! You better get your ass back here! You can’t ignore me forever!” she yells after me.

I don’t respond, using the crowd as cover until I’m out on the street and pulling up my rideshare app, typing in the address of the last place I should go.