Chapter 12 – Kat
TWELVE
KAT
The weeks after meeting Elijah are a complete and utter whirlwind. We hang out most days—sometimes at my dorm room, sometimes at his house, sometimes on campus somewhere, but always together. I haven’t seen Jenna much over the past few weeks, but that isn’t unusual when she’s with a new guy. Marcus and her seem different, though; I could truly see it lasting.
Elijah walks up to my table carrying two large brown boxes with the bright Einstein’s Bagels logo stamped on them. He sets them down on the table before sliding into the chair across from me. I quickly scan his outfit—jeans and a plaid flannel shirt—and realize he must have a break in his classes today. I tilt my head and readjust my textbooks. We smile at each other and my stomach shifts into a kaleidoscope of butterflies.
“Hey, you,” I say with a grin.
While I was hoping I’d see him today, he didn’t fully commit when I asked to nail down a time. Apparently, he found time in his schedule.
He grins, his eyes lighting up as he opens one of the brown boxes. From it, he pulls out a perfectly toasted Nova Lox bagel—cream cheese with smoked salmon and capers spilling out from the sides.
I don’t notice that my disgust is clear on my face until he starts laughing, immediately ready to defend his favorite breakfast dish. “It’s good, I promise.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I laugh before reaching for the second box.
His hand lands atop the cardboard, stopping me. “Do you trust me?”
What a loaded question to pose before I open my food.
“Depends on what is in this box,” I joke.
He pulls his hand away and allows me to open the box…to reveal a Nova Lox bagel piled with the same fixings as his. My eyes meet his, and I notice nervousness seeping into his otherwise confident attitude.
“If you hate it, I promise I will walk back over there and buy you something else. But…I think you’ll like it.”
Despite my usual dislike for seafood, I cautiously take a bite of the bagel. The creamy texture of the cream cheese and the crunch of the toasted bagel mix with the salty burst of briny capers and perfectly smoked salmon, creating a harmonious blend of flavors that leaves me pleasantly surprised.
“Good, right?” He leans forward in anticipation of my response.
I pause for a moment, wanting to respond with something snarky about him getting me food without any inkling of whether I’d like it, but I have to give him credit. He managed to guess correctly.
“It’s good,” I mumble, my mouth still half full, holding a napkin to my mouth. I finish chewing. “It’s really good, actually. I’m glad to have been wrong. I don’t normally like fish.”
A look of relief washes over him at my words. “Good.” He grins before biting into his own bagel, cream cheese clinging to the corner of his mouth.
“Elijah,” I say.
“Hm?”
“You’ve got…” I point to the corner of his mouth.
He looks confused for a split second until he reaches up and feels the cheese on his lip. He wipes it away quickly with his thumb before licking it away.
I do a terrible job at hiding the reaction my body has to that visual.
To my relief, he smirks but doesn’t say anything.
“So, what class are you studying for?” Elijah leans forward in his seat to get a peek at my open textbook.
“Principles of Macroeconomics.” I groan, resting my forehead against the textbook in demonstration of my frustration.
“Not going well, I take it?” he asks.
“Not going well,” I confirm. “I’ve never been good at math to begin with, so it’s proving to be…difficult.”
He nods in understanding before shifting his seat, nestling up next to me to look at the page I was reading.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Helping you,” he says, frowning. “I took this class last semester. It’s still fresh in my mind, so I may be able to help. ”
I tilt the book toward him and he exhales. “Oh, okay. This is really easy…monetary policy focuses on interest rates and the money in circulation, whereas fiscal policy pertains more to taxation and government spending.”
“Will you deal with that after you finish school?” I ask.
“To some degree. It depends on the job, but probably. If I go the law route after law school, not as much. But once I venture into politics, yes.”
“Does your dad?”
He tenses at the mention of his father, Governor Hanas—who I googled after that first night with Elijah.
“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate.
“And that’s what you want to do? What your dad does?”
The air between us thickens, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak. The seconds tick by as I fidget in my seat.
Finally, he lets out a deep sigh. “Of course I do.” His response is cold, and I know with certainty I shouldn’t pry. I clearly made a grave mistake in asking about his dad.
My gaze flits around the room, searching for a way to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic. “What are you doing next weekend?” I ask as I close my textbook.
“Next weekend is Halloween, so I guess I’ll be doing that. Why?”
“Halloween is my twenty-first birthday!” I grin from ear to ear. Although I’ve had a fake ID since I was eighteen, I can’t hide my excitement at the day finally arriving.
“Your birthday is on Halloween?” He raises a brow.
I laugh. “Yes?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who has a Halloween birthday—it’s kind of cool,” Elijah says .
“It’s no less likely than the other 365 days in a year.”
“Yeah, but still. It’s cool.”
We grow quiet again, but it doesn’t feel nearly as tense as before.
Elijah leans forward, grazing my thigh in the process. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to get short with you about my dad. He just…that’s what most people want from me, and while I know that isn’t you, it still causes me to tense up.”
“I understand,” I say. And I do.
When people ask about my dad, I have a similar response. Sometimes there are more tears, but a pretty similar response nonetheless. No one wants to be asked about their parents all the time, whether that be because their dad left or because their dad just so happens to be the governor.
Elijah reaches over and squeezes my hand under the table with welcome warmth. “What were you thinking for your birthday?” he asks.
I shrug. “Jenna was talking about doing something at Marcus’s apartment.”
Elijah nods as though deep in thought, but whatever is crossing his mind, he doesn’t share. As if he can hear my thoughts—the cogs turning, the whistles blowing—he grins unabashedly. “I’ll be there.”
And suddenly any concerns or fears I had before melt away, leaving just the two of us.
Exactly the way I want it to be.