Chapter 11 Lily
ELEVEN
LILY
“Our students would be lucky to have you as their teacher, but I’m afraid there is no open position right now, it was just filled before you got here. We didn’t have enough time to cancel on you.”
Another day, another rejection.
Nodding, I plaster a smile on my face when all I want to do is cry. “No problem, I completely understand.” Rising, I gather my papers. “Thank you for your time.”
“I will keep you in mind if anything changes. I hope you find a position. I wish you nothing but the best.”
I nearly choke at her grandmotherly kindness.
“That would be fantastic. Thank you again.” Casting her one last look, I make my way to my car.
Throwing my bag on the passenger seat, I let my tears fall and my forehead hit the steering wheel.
Why me, world?
In moments like this, I try to think of what my parents would tell me, and I know it would be not to worry.
How can I not?
If I don’t find a job soon, I will lose the only thing left I have of my parents.
I can’t.
Scrolling through my emails, I double-check that my meeting is still scheduled for tomorrow. Rolling my shoulders back, I wipe my tears and drive with no destination in mind.
“How many drinks did that guy buy you?” Thea giggles, bouncing off the wall when she trips on her own pair of shoes she just took off.
I mentally count them in my head. “Like, four.”
“Lucky girl,” she whines, following me to my bedroom. “And poor him. He probably thought he was going to get you in his bed.”
I shrug.
“You don’t feel bad about his blue balls?”
I scrunch my face up at her. “One, I did nothing for him to get blue balls, and people shouldn’t assume someone is going to jump their bones if they buy them a drink.” Rolling my eyes at just the thought, I start wiping my makeup off.
The first thing that I do when I come home is take off my makeup. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know.
“Imagine how grumpy Mr. Famous would have been if he had seen you come home with that guy.” She throws open my curtains and flashes the street her bare boobs.
I yelp and jump over the bed, yanking them closed. “What are you doing?”
I look anywhere but at her naked chest as she laughs and sways.
One gust of wind, and this girl is gone.
“Rock stars sign boobs, right?” She plops down on my bed and snuggles into a ball. “I’m sure he’s seen lots, so what’s one more pair?”
I want to cry, scream, run, but instead, I stay put.
“I don’t think he does that.”
With half-closed lids, she points a finger at me. “How do you know what he does?”
She’s right; I don’t know him anymore. Yet, somehow, I always find myself stuck thinking the best of him and wanting others to do the same.
“He was a little gentleman.” I laugh, thinking back to the many times he acted older than his age. “He couldn’t have lost himself completely.”
“He’s famous, Lily,” she says matter-of-factly. “Hollywood destroys people.”
Not him.
Not.
Him.
He’s not Elijah Drakos to me; he’s just Elijah. The boy I learned how to do somersaults with. The boy I rode my bike with up and down the block until the sun went down.
It hurts to care, but hurts more not to.
Thea lets out a drunken snore. Covering her with a blanket, I grab the book I’m reading and make a cup of peppermint tea. Opening the front door, I fold myself on the porch swing that my mom adored, I breathe in the crisp air.
The words in front of me blur, the pages shake. Resting the open paperback on my stomach, I lean my head on the rope.
Is it possible to feel like you’re drowning on dry land?
Quicksand.
I’m slowly disappearing in quicksand.
The little girl in me aches at just the thought of Elijah changing so drastically. The news titles, blogs, and fan pages sexualize him a lot. Everything always goes back to his body, how they know he’d talk them through sex.
The Elijah I knew never wanted this. He was passionate about his music, the art he created with just an instrument and his fingers.
Nothing else.
Footsteps dragging along gravel catch my attention. Two sets of lost eyes meet.
I straighten in my seat, and he takes a seat on the very first stair. As he leans back on the railing, his eyes stop on my book.
“You read now?”
I scoff. “I’ve always liked to read.”
“That’s what you would always tell me. Yet you never got past the first chapter.”
“Says the guy who wouldn’t give me a moment of silence to read in the first place.”
“I still like to talk a lot; that hasn’t changed.” He smiles bashfully, placing his forearms on his bent knees.
He must see the hesitation in my eyes. “It’s okay if you want me to leave,” he whispers, looking like he wants anything but that. “I looked out the window before going to bed and saw how sad you looked. Say the words, and I’m gone.”
I let my eyes travel along his body. He looks extremely comfortable in his sweatpants and hoodie. How can someone look so good in lounge clothes? I look like a drowned mole rat in a sweat set while he looks like a supermodel who just walked off the runway.
“One thing I know hasn’t changed is the layers you put on to go to bed,” I muse, blowing into my tea.
His dimple that I’ve always adored highlights his cheek, nearly stopping my heart.
“I feel safe from the monster this way.” He shrugs, running his hands through his hair that already looks messy from sleep. “Not to sound like a stalker or anything, but I saw your headlights when your car pulled in. Party hard?”
I stare at his puzzled face. “If party hard entails sitting at a bar until my friend couldn’t sit up, then I guess.”
He tilts his head, confused.
He’s biting his tongue, wanting to say something, but surely doesn’t want to overstep.
“Had a bad day.” I shrug, rocking the swing back lightly. “My friend wanted to take me out of the house to cheer me up.”
“Want to talk about it?” He taps his fingers against his knee. “Another set of ears is always helpful …” His voice softens and trails off.
It’s late. I should go back inside, but the urge to stay is stronger; that’s what keeps me rooted to my seat.
“I’m having a hard time getting a full-time teaching position. I’ve been trying for what feels like forever. Still nothing though.”
His eyes narrow. “They must be idiots if they don’t see how much potential you hold in that little body of yours.”
It’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “I am not that short.”
“You’re right.” His voice drips with longing. “You are perfect.”
My cheeks heat. “How do you figure? You don’t know me anymore.”
“I know the girl I knew is somewhere in there.” He leans forward, like he’s about to tell me a secret. “It’s my goal to dig her out from under all the hatred.”
Not knowing what to say next has me staying quiet as he continues to inspect me.
“How long have you been searching?”
God, this is so embarrassing. Here I am, spilling the beans to a world-famous rock star, who is definitely making money as we speak while I’m going broke.
“Six months.”
He tilts his head. “In a couple of years, you won’t even remember being jobless. Try not to worry. Everything will work out.”
Not if the bank takes away my home or if a For Sale sign swings in the wind in front of my house.
“It’s not that simple, Elijah.”
His eyes are intense. “Then simplify it for me.”
“Why?” I question, sitting up straighter.
He genuinely looks stumped. “Why what?”
“Why did you come back suddenly, and why are you acting like you care?”
Emotion clogs my throat as he makes his way over to me and jolts the swing as he sits, facing me.
“Don’t ask me stupid questions,” he mutters as he fights to keep my gaze locked on his. “I cared about you more than I did myself.”
“That was years ago,” I argue back.
“Well, nothing has changed on my end. I’m still the same person I was back then.”
Is he a comedian now?
A throaty laugh escapes my mouth. “Says the man who sells out arenas all around the world.”
His beautiful jaw clenches. “That doesn’t define who I am.”
“Elijah, are you hearing yourself? You couldn’t be any more different from the boy I used to know.”
His eyes fall to the ground.
I instantly feel terrible. Who am I becoming?
When I pat his knee, he tenses under my touch.
“It’s normal. We all change. But your growth is much larger than mine. I don’t see how our lives can mix.”
“That’s an awful fucking excuse—for so many reasons.” He scoffs.
“Really?” When I face him, his frown doesn’t let up. “Maybe you can just come back and hit start on our friendship again, but I can’t. I’m nothing like I used to be.” I gesture with my hands. “If I don’t get a full-time position, I’ll lose my house. Do you know what that means? I’m going broke.”
His mouth drops open.
“I’m close to losing everything that I have.” I shake my head, frustrated, as my voice gives out.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t … I swear.” Getting up he starts pacing in front of my veranda, he nervously runs his hands through his hair, gripping the roots.
“If I had known you were having so much trouble, I would have helped.” Halting in place, he begs, “Tell me what you need, and it’s yours.
How much do you need to pay off this place? ”
I grab his arm, tugging him as he starts inspecting my house like his second job is as a realtor.
“Elijah—” I stop talking when he grabs my chin and brings our faces closer.
“Please, let me pay off your house after all the pain I’ve caused you.”
When did he get this intense?
Not having the strength to look into eyes that were my safe place for so many years, I look over his shoulder at his house. “Don’t be silly, Elijah. I’m not taking anything from you.”
Hot breath hits my ear, sending shivers down my entire spine.
“You’re being silly. You need to let me help you.”
He takes a step back, his arm falling to his side.
“I don’t take handouts.” I need to work for my home … do this on my own, earn it.
Disappointment is evident throughout his entire body. “How could you ever say it would be a handout?” Putting his hands in his sweatpants pockets, he says, “Where did your parents go anyway? Didn’t they own this place?”
A hundred sharp blades dig into my heart. Rising, I take steps back until my back hits the front door, I reach and grab the doorknob. I didn’t think Elijah could look more stressed than he did a second ago. Yet it looks like he’s watching me watch a ghost.
The ghost of my past.
“They’re gone,” I force out.
His face pales. “What do you mean, gone?”
No, no, no … don’t make me say it.
Before Elijah moved away, he knew the love my parents brought to a room.
They treated him like he was their son. Which made the four of us become extremely close.
Not only was my father like the father he never had, but my home also became his home.
When he left, they tried to stay strong for me, but I knew they mourned him after his disappearance.
How doesn’t he know they passed away?
I don’t bother wiping the tears streaming down my face. “My parents are dead.”