All the Little Lights
Page 54
“Elliott . . . I don’t see what you see. And I’m not the only one.”
“You think that’s why insecure girls like Presley and her friends bother you so much? Because you’re plain? Because you’re boring? Ordinary?”
“I am plain and boring and ordinary,” I said.
Elliott stood me in front of the mirror, forcing me to look at myself again. He was a whole head taller than me, able to rest his chin on top of my head if he wanted. His bronze skin was such a contrast to my peachy hue, his straight, dark hair like typed words on a cream page against my tawny waves.
“If you can’t see it . . . trust me, you’re beautiful.”
I looked again. “Fourth grade? Really? I was all knees and teeth.”
“No, you were flowing blonde hair, delicate fingers, with at least ten lifetimes in your eyes.”
I turned to him, sliding my hands under his shirt. “I miss how light my hair was when I was little.”
He stiffened; my hands on his bare skin took him off guard. “Your . . . your hair is perfect the way it is.” He was warm, the solid muscles of his back tensing under my grip. He leaned down, his soft lips pressing against mine. I took a step back toward the bed, and he froze. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting comfortable?”
He smiled. “Now you’re talking in question marks.”
I giggled, pulling him toward me. “Shut up.”
He took a few steps, his entire body reacting when I parted my lips and searched his mouth with my tongue. When I leaned back, Elliott went with me, catching both of us with one hand on the mattress. His chest pressed against mine, and I reached down to lift the bottom hem of his shirt. When the cotton fabric was halfway up his back, the front door closed.
Elliott jumped up, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s Uncle John and Aunt Leigh,” he said.
I sat up, embarrassed. “I should get home anyway. You should go to the party. I want you to go.”
He looked deflated. “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“I’ll take a shower, then walk you home. Want some hot chocolate or anything while you wait?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll just be a second.”
He gathered some clothes and then disappeared behind the door of the built-in his uncle John had made. The water from the shower hummed, and steam began billowing from the top of the door.
I sat on Elliott’s bed, next to the pictures of me. There were so few where I was in a field or walking on the sidewalk or even in my yard. In most of the pictures, I was sitting on my porch swing, the windows of the Juniper watching over my shoulder. Never did I smile. I was always deep in thought, even when my father was in the shot, nearby.
The shower turned off, and the faucet turned on. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Elliott appeared, wearing an Oak Creek Football hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and a wide grin, his dimple sinking into his cheek.
“You smell good,” I said, hugging him again. Body wash and mint surrounded me when he locked his arms at the small of my back. His hair was still damp and fell all around me when he bent down to kiss my lips. He took my hand and headed for the stairs but then stopped and kissed me again.
“What was that for?”
“It took me six summers to get up the nerve to talk to you. Two more summers to get back to you. No more, okay? I’m done missing summers with you.”
I smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“I like that you end your sentences in periods now.”
He held my hand in his, my cold skin comforted in the confines of his warmth.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get you home before it gets too late.”
We walked together to the Juniper, counting which of the streetlamps were out and which were still burning. Elliott looked up, agreeing that it was easier to see the stars when it was darker.
We passed the Fentons’ dirt plot, and Elliott stepped through the iron gate this time, walking me all the way to my front porch.
“Have fun tonight, okay?” I said, keeping my voice low. The Juniper was dark, and I wanted it to stay that way while Elliott was so close.
Elliott twirled a strand of my hair. “I wish you’d go with me.”
For the first time in my life, I wanted to go to a party. I would have gone anywhere if it meant I could spend another hour with Elliott. I swallowed those feelings and shook my head. “I’d better go inside.” I kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday.”
Elliott nodded and then took my cheeks in his hands. He pressed his full, warm lips against mine. His mouth moved differently, this time with more desire. The act of sharing a secret and my acceptance had changed things, had broken down a wall. His lips parted, and I let his tongue slip inside, allowing a delicate dance as he pulled me closer.
Our breathing puffed up into a white cloud above us. Elliott took a step closer, gently backing me against the door.
“I should go,” I whispered between kisses.
I reached behind me and turned the handle. The latch clicked, and the hinges creaked. I took a step back, and Elliott followed, stepping inside.
We stood in the doorway, tasting each other, lost in being so close. It was in that moment that I thought seriously about packing up to be with him, leaving everything frightening and draining behind.
“What the hell is going on here?” Duke yelled, yanking me back by my coat.
“Whoa, easy,” Elliott said, his hands up.
“Go, Elliott,” I said, panicked.
“Are you . . . ,” Elliott began.
“Just go! Go!” I yelled, pushing him back through the threshold. I slammed the door in his face.
“Catherine!” Elliott yelled, banging on the door.
“Get out of here, you mutt!” Duke growled.
I held up my finger to Duke, begging him to be quiet. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just shhhh,” I said, my hands trembling. I touched my palms to the door. “Elliott? I’m okay. Just . . . go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re not okay!” Elliott said. “Let me in, Catherine. I’ll explain.”
Duke grabbed my arm, but I yanked it away. I took a deep breath, twisting the lock bolt. “You can’t come in. I’m okay, I promise. Just . . . please go home. Please leave.”
“I can’t leave you here,” Elliott said.
I swallowed and looked over my shoulder, seeing the rage in Duke’s eyes. “Elliott, I don’t want you to get hurt. I promise I’ll see you tomorrow, and I promise everything will be fine. Please trust me.”
“Catherine,” Elliott said, his voice desperate and muffled.
I walked over to the window and tapped. Elliott met me there, pressing his hands against the glass. I forced a smile, and Elliott looked around for Duke, who’d stayed just out of sight.
“You have to leave,” I said.
Elliott frowned, the muscles of his jaw ticking. I could see the conflict in his eyes. “Come with me. I can keep you safe.”
A tear spilled down my cheek. “You have to leave, Elliott, or I can’t see you anymore.”
Elliott’s bottom lip trembled with anger. He tried to see behind me one more time. “Go straight to your room and lock the door.”
“I will. I promise.”
“I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Elliott turned on his heel and ran down the porch steps. He jumped over the gate, sprinting home.
“You think that’s why insecure girls like Presley and her friends bother you so much? Because you’re plain? Because you’re boring? Ordinary?”
“I am plain and boring and ordinary,” I said.
Elliott stood me in front of the mirror, forcing me to look at myself again. He was a whole head taller than me, able to rest his chin on top of my head if he wanted. His bronze skin was such a contrast to my peachy hue, his straight, dark hair like typed words on a cream page against my tawny waves.
“If you can’t see it . . . trust me, you’re beautiful.”
I looked again. “Fourth grade? Really? I was all knees and teeth.”
“No, you were flowing blonde hair, delicate fingers, with at least ten lifetimes in your eyes.”
I turned to him, sliding my hands under his shirt. “I miss how light my hair was when I was little.”
He stiffened; my hands on his bare skin took him off guard. “Your . . . your hair is perfect the way it is.” He was warm, the solid muscles of his back tensing under my grip. He leaned down, his soft lips pressing against mine. I took a step back toward the bed, and he froze. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting comfortable?”
He smiled. “Now you’re talking in question marks.”
I giggled, pulling him toward me. “Shut up.”
He took a few steps, his entire body reacting when I parted my lips and searched his mouth with my tongue. When I leaned back, Elliott went with me, catching both of us with one hand on the mattress. His chest pressed against mine, and I reached down to lift the bottom hem of his shirt. When the cotton fabric was halfway up his back, the front door closed.
Elliott jumped up, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s Uncle John and Aunt Leigh,” he said.
I sat up, embarrassed. “I should get home anyway. You should go to the party. I want you to go.”
He looked deflated. “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“I’ll take a shower, then walk you home. Want some hot chocolate or anything while you wait?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll just be a second.”
He gathered some clothes and then disappeared behind the door of the built-in his uncle John had made. The water from the shower hummed, and steam began billowing from the top of the door.
I sat on Elliott’s bed, next to the pictures of me. There were so few where I was in a field or walking on the sidewalk or even in my yard. In most of the pictures, I was sitting on my porch swing, the windows of the Juniper watching over my shoulder. Never did I smile. I was always deep in thought, even when my father was in the shot, nearby.
The shower turned off, and the faucet turned on. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Elliott appeared, wearing an Oak Creek Football hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and a wide grin, his dimple sinking into his cheek.
“You smell good,” I said, hugging him again. Body wash and mint surrounded me when he locked his arms at the small of my back. His hair was still damp and fell all around me when he bent down to kiss my lips. He took my hand and headed for the stairs but then stopped and kissed me again.
“What was that for?”
“It took me six summers to get up the nerve to talk to you. Two more summers to get back to you. No more, okay? I’m done missing summers with you.”
I smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“I like that you end your sentences in periods now.”
He held my hand in his, my cold skin comforted in the confines of his warmth.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get you home before it gets too late.”
We walked together to the Juniper, counting which of the streetlamps were out and which were still burning. Elliott looked up, agreeing that it was easier to see the stars when it was darker.
We passed the Fentons’ dirt plot, and Elliott stepped through the iron gate this time, walking me all the way to my front porch.
“Have fun tonight, okay?” I said, keeping my voice low. The Juniper was dark, and I wanted it to stay that way while Elliott was so close.
Elliott twirled a strand of my hair. “I wish you’d go with me.”
For the first time in my life, I wanted to go to a party. I would have gone anywhere if it meant I could spend another hour with Elliott. I swallowed those feelings and shook my head. “I’d better go inside.” I kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday.”
Elliott nodded and then took my cheeks in his hands. He pressed his full, warm lips against mine. His mouth moved differently, this time with more desire. The act of sharing a secret and my acceptance had changed things, had broken down a wall. His lips parted, and I let his tongue slip inside, allowing a delicate dance as he pulled me closer.
Our breathing puffed up into a white cloud above us. Elliott took a step closer, gently backing me against the door.
“I should go,” I whispered between kisses.
I reached behind me and turned the handle. The latch clicked, and the hinges creaked. I took a step back, and Elliott followed, stepping inside.
We stood in the doorway, tasting each other, lost in being so close. It was in that moment that I thought seriously about packing up to be with him, leaving everything frightening and draining behind.
“What the hell is going on here?” Duke yelled, yanking me back by my coat.
“Whoa, easy,” Elliott said, his hands up.
“Go, Elliott,” I said, panicked.
“Are you . . . ,” Elliott began.
“Just go! Go!” I yelled, pushing him back through the threshold. I slammed the door in his face.
“Catherine!” Elliott yelled, banging on the door.
“Get out of here, you mutt!” Duke growled.
I held up my finger to Duke, begging him to be quiet. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just shhhh,” I said, my hands trembling. I touched my palms to the door. “Elliott? I’m okay. Just . . . go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re not okay!” Elliott said. “Let me in, Catherine. I’ll explain.”
Duke grabbed my arm, but I yanked it away. I took a deep breath, twisting the lock bolt. “You can’t come in. I’m okay, I promise. Just . . . please go home. Please leave.”
“I can’t leave you here,” Elliott said.
I swallowed and looked over my shoulder, seeing the rage in Duke’s eyes. “Elliott, I don’t want you to get hurt. I promise I’ll see you tomorrow, and I promise everything will be fine. Please trust me.”
“Catherine,” Elliott said, his voice desperate and muffled.
I walked over to the window and tapped. Elliott met me there, pressing his hands against the glass. I forced a smile, and Elliott looked around for Duke, who’d stayed just out of sight.
“You have to leave,” I said.
Elliott frowned, the muscles of his jaw ticking. I could see the conflict in his eyes. “Come with me. I can keep you safe.”
A tear spilled down my cheek. “You have to leave, Elliott, or I can’t see you anymore.”
Elliott’s bottom lip trembled with anger. He tried to see behind me one more time. “Go straight to your room and lock the door.”
“I will. I promise.”
“I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Elliott turned on his heel and ran down the porch steps. He jumped over the gate, sprinting home.
