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o;Elliott? Honey, are you okay?” My mom sang in her deep southern accent.
“Yes mama,” I muttered beneath the crook of the arm draped over my face.
“Can I come in baby?”
“Sure mom.”
I didn’t budge. She walked into the room and I could hear her little footsteps stride across the wood floor before she lay on the bed next to me. I peeked underneath my arm and smiled at her as she folded her hands across her stomach. No matter how angry I was at myself I could never take it out on the one person who knew me the best.
“Sweetheart. There’s something wrong.”
“No, mama. There isn’t.”
“I wasn’t askin’ Elliott. I was tellin’.”
I remained quiet.
“You’ve been mopin’ around here for the past few weeks darlin’ and I wanna’ know why. You’re really starting to worry me. So, spill. Is it school?”
“No, mama. It’s not school. It’s a student at school.”
“Hmm. I’m having trouble imagining my six foot four mammoth of a son would have a problem with anyone,” she laughed.
When I didn’t say anything, she kept on.
“Well does your mama need to call his mama?” She teased, poking me in the ribs.
We both laughed.
“No, that’s okay. Seriously. It’s okay. I’m gonna’ fix it. Come Monday, come hell or high water. I’m going to fix it.”
“Well good son.” She tapped me on the leg before lifting herself off the bed. “Come on, it’s time for dinner. Oh, and Elliott? Remember, you never throw the first punch boy. That’s the rule. Just a reminder.”
“It won’t come to that mom. Trust me.”
I was beginning to scare myself. It was time to do something about my obsession.
Chapter Two
With Everything I Have
These were the days that changed my heart.
I remember it all so vividly.
Elliott Gray was hovering above me. He’s speaking to me but I’m too mortified by the fact that I’ve run into my mom’s best friend and my math teacher, then slipped on the worksheets she was carrying, to listen.
Not to mention the fact that there is some freaky things happening between the two of us that I just can’t seem to put my finger on. He is affecting me and I never asked him to do this. I’m losing control. I never lose control.
“Huh?” I intelligently ask.
“I said, you should do shampoo commercials, Jules,” he teases, holding out his hand.
“Yeah. Right,” I say, refusing his hand. That was rude. Dang it, I hate being impolite. I’m better than that, even if it is Elliott Gray. “Thanks for the compliment, though.” There, remedied that little issue.
Suddenly, I remember that Mrs. Kitt was cleaning up a mess that I helped make, by herself.
“I’m so sorry Mrs. Kitt! I wasn’t paying attention and........”
