Chapter 7 – Kat
SEVEN
KAT
A loud crash reverberates through the house, drawing everyone’s attention toward the DJ booth. My gaze snaps to the source of the noise, my heart rate quickening in anticipation.
Tanner stands tall amidst the chaos, his arm tight around the waist of a petite blonde. He skillfully pulls her out of harm’s way as two guys start throwing punches and screaming at each other about a foot in front of the DJ booth. The music screeches to a halt as the DJ jumps over the table, attempting to pull the two men apart. Tanner pushes the girl behind him, urging her to go toward the kitchen as he attempts to intervene alongside the DJ. He holds the taller of the two men back as the DJ attempts to wrangle the other, arms swinging haphazardly as one of them tries to land a blow on the other guy’s jaw.
The sounds of breaking glass and thuds are drowned out by Elijah’s voice as his lips ghost past my ear, pulling my attention back into the moment .
“Do you want to go outside?”
Despite my being nosey in nature, I want to be alone with him more.
“Sure,” I respond, my voice barely audible amidst the chaos.
Still holding my hand, Elijah begins to guide me to the door, his skin somehow cold yet biting into my flesh as if my hand might combust into flames.
He leads me out the front door and we veer off into the yard. The further from the house we get, the quieter the air around us seems, a combination of walking away from the chaos inside and finally being alone with him after the anticipation all day.
Since waking up here this morning, I’ve been aching to talk to him—to talk to this version of Elijah, the young man who so easily managed to hold my heart in his hands before life made it too hard for either of us to withstand.
His hand doesn’t leave mine and he intertwines our fingers, guiding me toward the worn picnic table set up in the side yard. Water pools atop the sun-bleached wood, but Elijah lets go of my hand to pull his zip-up hoodie off to wipe away the stagnant water and lay it out as something dry for us both to sit on.
We sit down in near-silence, the pitch-black air cut through only by the voices and music in the distance, the fight from a few minutes ago long gone and replaced with laughter.
“So, Kat,” he says as he bumps his arm against mine. The contact radiates through me, causing goosebumps to form a blanket over my skin.
I don’t think I’ve ever been as nervous as I am right now.
The fading memories of what is to come for us linger. The exact events are a distant blur, but the emotions hang around just the same.
I’ve never loved anyone like I love Elijah—or will love Elijah.
Part of me wishes he had memories too…well, not memories, but at the very least I wish he was aware of what I eventually become to him. Right now, as he stares at what I assume he sees as a complete stranger, a nearly inconsequential meeting at a party, I sit here lost in a sea of emotion as I fumble for the right words. Trying to find the words to prevent everything—every bad thing that will happen—from happening.
Even if I can’t remember what those things are anymore.
“So…Elijah.” I attempt to match his flirty tone, but my voice comes out shaky. I can’t tell if he notices, nor do I know if I want him to.
If I told him that I somehow went back in time to save our future relationship, we very well might never happen, in part because of all that butterfly effect stuff, but more than anything because I’d look like a raging psychopath.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Columbus…well, technically Dublin, but it’s easier to say Columbus.”
He gasps and says in a joking, mocking tone, “Blasphemous. I’m from Columbus. Dublin isn’t Columbus.”
“Seriously?” I laugh.
“Completely—like, thirty minutes from Dublin.”
“Small world.”
“The smallest.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “Why Kent? Why not one of the tons of other universities in Ohio?”
“Why not Kent? ”
To be honest, I didn’t have a big reason for coming to Kent. I simply toured the campus my junior year of high school, liked it, and was able to get enough financial aid to cover the tuition.
“Fair enough.”
“Why did you choose Kent?” I ask.
I don’t miss the way his expression drops at the question. “Oh, uh, my dad went here. Actually, I’m a legacy.” Elijah points to the fraternity house. “It just always made sense, I guess, to go to Kent. Look who had just as boring of an answer.” He forces out a laugh as he bumps his arm into mine again.
We quickly fall into comfortable conversation. My stomach thankfully settles, the anxiety a distant memory as we laugh in near-darkness. Elijah tells me a story about some ridiculous stunt that Marcus pulled freshman year that involved the roof above the back patio of the house and a skateboard.
My face grows flush as I gasp for air, the amusement at the absurdity of the story a welcome moment of levity for both of us.
“So, Elijah. What’s your major?” I ask before pulling my almost-empty cup of Jungle Juice to my lips.
“Poli-Sci with a Pre-Law minor.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Oh, uh—I want to go into politics.”
“That’s really cool!” I’ve never known anyone who was in politics. However, as silence overtakes us, I find myself questioning if that was an appropriate response.
“You don’t know who my dad is, do you?” His expression is reserved, tentative, and—dare I say—a little nervous .
“Should I?”
“My name is Elijah Hanas.” He stares at me as if he is anticipating me to have an “ Aha !” moment, but I don’t.
“Okay…”
His confused expression from before is nothing compared to the evident amusement on his face now. “My dad is Mike Hanas.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“Well…yes…you probably should.” He releases a full-bellied laugh. “He is the Governor of Ohio.”
I feel…so stupid, even though I don’t follow politics.
How the hell didn’t I know that?! I swear, the further from going back in time I get, the less I remember anything about the future.
“Wow, how did I get into college?” I choke out through laughter. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be… It’s kind of refreshing, anyway…not being automatically recognized by my dad.” A sadness seeps into Elijah’s expression, but it melts away just as quickly. “What do your parents do?”
The whiplash of emotions has me shifting from amusement to discomfort in a matter of seconds, the previous light energy souring.
“My mom manages a restaurant in Dublin.”
“And your dad?” He raises his brows in curiosity.
“He…” I clear my throat. “My mom manages a restaurant in Dublin.”
My reiteration seems to turn on a light in his mind, the realization finally dawning on him.
I’m thankful when he doesn’t pry.
“What restaurant? Maybe I know it,” he says with a grin .
“I very strongly doubt it. It’s not, like, famous.”
“Try me.”
“Pip’s Bar he loves that place. We went all the time when I was a kid.”
I don’t know how to go about telling him that the reason I wouldn’t know that—outside of just generally not following politics—is because I never really spent much time at the restaurant.
As a kid, my mom worked a lot. I mean, being a single mom, that’s par for the course. But I spent most of my time at my grandma’s, and, if we’re being completely honest, I had a closer relationship with her than with my mother.
“It’s not like I was sitting in the corner booth analyzing every person that walked in the door!”
Elijah laughs. “I guess that’s fair. So what’s your major?”
“Photography.”
His brows nearly touch his hairline, a confused expression marring his lips.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, “I just didn’t realize that was a major. Do you need a degree to do that?”
“Not necessarily, but an education always helps. My minor is in business.”
“Why not be a business major and minor in photography? ”
“Because the goal is to be a photographer, not a business owner who happens to take pictures.” I can feel myself growing defensive, but I try my best to bite it back.
He nods in response, but I can’t tell if he understands what I’m saying.
You can’t get much further apart than Pre-Law and Photography when it comes to majors. Actually, you can’t get much further apart than me and Elijah, either. Our lives, our goals, our parents—we couldn’t be more different.
However, I think it’s a beautiful thing when opposites attract.
Especially when it’s Elijah Hanas.
We grow quiet again and I struggle to think of what to say. I’m finding myself starting to question if, rather than providing me with a lifeline, the universe was just playing a sick, twisted joke on me by sending me back in time. I have to sit through it all again with the knowledge that nothing is as inconsequential as it seems, and with one wrong word or move, I could throw it all away. Even if I don’t know exactly what happens, I know that Elijah is important. He stays important, so I’m terrified of messing things up.
“So…” Elijah breaks the silence, pulling my attention to his eyes. “What’s the deal with your dad?”
My brows shoot up, but he continues speaking.
“I’m sorry. I know that was a bit crass, and if I’m being honest, I’m a little drunk right now. But I can’t stop thinking about how you avoided the question.”
“Because he’s not important. I barely know the guy.”
“Oh,” he responds. He doesn’t elaborate on what he is thinking .
We settle into silence again, but this time I break it. Mostly because I don’t like silence.
“He had an affair…when I was a baby. I was only like six months old when it started. Anyway, he got the other woman pregnant and ended up moving into the city to be with her instead. I haven’t seen him since I was eight, but even then, it was in passing at the mall.”
Despite the revelation, Elijah remains silent, making it almost worse.
I keep going to fill the silence. “He didn’t really want to be in my life. He didn’t really want me . He told my mom that when I was a kid. I overheard them on the phone. Said she trapped him and that he didn’t want me in the first place.”
When Elijah responds, it’s in nearly a whisper, an expression of utter disbelief on his face. “Damn.”
“Whatever. I wasn’t wanted—it’s fine.”
“You’re wanted, and you should be able to feel wanted. It sucks that he made you feel like that wasn’t true.”
“It’s fine.” What else am I supposed to say? Should I bare my soul and scare him away? That’s an awful idea.
“Where do you stay?”
The quick shift in subject nearly throws me off my axis. “What?”
Elijah seems to suppress a grin at my confusion. “Where do you live?”
“Oh, McDowell.”
“That’s clear across campus.”
“It’s August, so it’s not like it’s cold. It’s a nice walk.”
“Isn’t Jenna your roommate?” he asks.
“Yeah…why? ”
“Because she’s halfway down the street—I’m assuming walking with Marcus back to his apartment.”
My head jerks to the left, and what I see confirms that is exactly what she’s doing. Jenna’s hand is intertwined with Marcus’s as she laughs at something he says. They are disappearing down the road, but not toward campus.
“Shit,” I mumble as I pull out my phone. I see a text from Jenna from ten minutes ago.
Jenna
im going home with marcus. lmk when you get back to our room
I gnaw on my bottom lip, unsure of what to do. I’ve walked home by myself—hell, I did it last night—but I prefer not to. Not this late, and not when half the town is wasted. It’s not safe.
“Could you…”
“Take you home?” Elijah raises a brow.
“Yeah…”
“I would, but—” he holds up his empty can of beer, “this is my eighth Coors Light. It wouldn’t be safe for either of us for me to drive.”
“Oh.” I stare down at my hands in my lap, a pang of disappointment overtaking me.
“But I could walk you.”
Oh.
“Okay,” I say with a grin, trying desperately to hide just how excited I am.