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There’s no denying it now. I’ve already begun to ache for Elliott. Ugh. I lay in bed, grasping at my heart, praying that the ache will dull but it never does. I feel addicted to his touch. A single touch has sealed my fate.
The few weeks of playing cat and mouse has a profound effect on me. My life is filled with unbelievable anxiety every moment I am awake. I do everything in my power to get him off my mind but fail.
The Tuesday of the second week of our careful dance my mom sends me to the store to pick up a bell pepper. Careful to avoid the main streets Elliott often travels, I arrive at the store and lock my car. I peek above the top of my Karmann Ghia and spot Elliott getting out of his truck. I duck down like an idiot only to realize that my car is in no way inconspicuous. It’s Tiffany blue and older than ninety-nine percent of the cars in the lot. I crouch down and practically crawl towards the entrance, watching his feet underneath the cars as he passes. My head hits something hard and I glance up. Sawyer.
“Uh, Julia?”
I shoot to my feet after Elliott passes us and watch him head toward the entrance, his back toward me.
“Uh, hey Sawyer. What’s up?”
“Nothing.” He laughs, “What’s up with you?”
This is why I like Sawyer. He doesn’t even bother asking why I’m crawling in the grocery store parking lot.
“Just getting a bell pepper for me ma’. You?”
“Similar errands but I need a lemon.”
“Ahh,” I sigh, “the curse of the driving teen.” I eye Sawyer carefully. “Doesn’t your mom make lemon chicken, like, three times a week?” I peek Elliott’s direction. “She should just invest in a fruit of the month club. Skip the produce section altogether, just have it delivered already.
“Right. Anyway, shall we?” He asks, gesturing toward the entrance.
I toss an extra glance Elliott’s way and discover he’s talking to a woman at the door.
“Uh, actually. I need to get something from my car. The, uh, rest of my list. Yeah. See you around?”
“Okay, see you around,” he says and heads inside.
When Sawyer passes through the automatic doors, he and Elliott nod at one another. I walk hurriedly toward a pillar near where Elliott is standing and crouch behind it. I peer over my shoulder at him. He doesn’t see me, which is good because, I admit, I am absolutely terrible at being inconspicuous. I strain to listen when my neighbor Mr. Rosenfeld’s cart creeks by at an alarmingly slow rate.
“Miss Julia? Is that you?”
I scrunch up my face and bury my head in my shoulders. I spastically wave him on. He shakes his head, but continues on, muttering ‘she’s looney’ and something along the lines of ‘probably forgot her pill’.
I turn my ear toward Elliott. He’s been talking to the young woman for some time now and I’m curious as to why. I’ve never seen her around before and jealousy creeps up my neck and into my face, infecting my thoughts. I check myself, forcing myself to calm down.
“.......and I’m not sure what I need to do because he just left us,” the woman says.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. That breaks my heart. How old is your son?” Elliott asks, reaching for her baby’s face and dragging a finger down its cheek. The baby giggles through a toothless grin, enamored of Elliott.
The woman adjusts the baby more securely on her hip.
“He’s six months.”
“What’s his name?”
“Samuel.”
“No way! That’s my grandfather’s name. I knew there was something about the little guy I liked.”
The woman laughs but loses the happiness just as quickly as it came.
“Well,” Elliott continues, “I believe I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve for Samuel here. How about we take a trip down the baby aisle together?”
“Oh thank you.....”
“Elliott.”
