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I peered back over my shoulder at Tut.
“Tut seems to be kind of mad himself. Why do you think that is Jules?”
“Elliott.”
“What if I brushed your hair from your shoulder? Do you think that would anger him more?”
I brushed a long strand of hair off her shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes, trying really hard not to look back at Tut.
“I don’t like cruelty,” she said.
“It doesn’t feel like you don’t like my brand of cruelty.”
She let a smile slip through.
“I don’t deny that I like it when you touch me,” she said. Butterflies rustled in my stomach. “But,” she continued, “not at the expense of others.”
“But Jules, had you not thought that my touching you might help Tut get over you?”
I let the back of my index finger trail tiny zaps down her jaw line. She grabbed my hand and put it onto the lab table.
“In this class, you will not encourage Sawyer’s hurt.”
“I understand,” I said, suddenly ashamed of my cruel behavior. “You know Jules? You do strange things to me. I’ve had little to no control of some of the smallest emotions. For instance, this jealousy I feel over Tut?” I leaned into her ear. “It makes me want to kiss you in front of everyone in here. Just so they’ll know that I belong to you and you belong to me.”
“Well, as much fun as that would be,” she said grabbing my face and turning it toward our solution filled flask, “we have work to do.”
We both smiled flirtatiously then focused on the task at hand with only the occasional teasing remark.
When Chemistry was over, I walked her to her car. The five minute walk was inspiring, to say the least. Images of students slurred around us, but we were the only ones that mattered. I hesitated for the first minute but eventually grabbed her hand in mine. The instant our hands connected, a pyrotechnic shower of light and heat cascaded over our heads before spilling onto the concrete. It was beautiful and I knew exactly what it was. It was the happiness we felt, together, and it reflected in the sparkled bits of electricity that fell at our feet.
“You make me feel like I’m flying Jules.”
“You make me feel like I’m falling Gray. The good kind. The ‘tip of the roller coaster before it plummets’ kind,” she said.
I could feel in my gut that she wanted me to ask myself over to her house but I didn’t give myself the opportunity. I needed to drag out the week so she’d feel obligated to come to my football game Friday. Something Jules never did. Also, the next day, I was determined to take her to Thatcher’s and that was going to be a task in and of itself. I peeled my hand away from the pleasant thrumming, seriously thought about grabbing her hand again, but willed myself away.
“Bye Jules! See you tomorrow,” I shouted as I ran off.
“Bye,” she said quietly, confused and waving her beautiful hand my way.
I ran as fast as I could to my truck in the other lot, leaving ribboned trails of Jules’ and my shared electricity behind me. Fireworks shot from my chest and hands, visible to only myself. I smoothly dodged around the crowded hallway of students and objects, dusting them with glimmering powdery dust. I never felt alive as I did in that moment, like I had sat in an emotionless body until I saw Jules that first day of school. Emotions pre-Jules barely registered in my thoughts. I let the light permeate the wind around me, raising effervescent fingers to the air, dropping shiny sparks of magnetic tensions and watched as they fizzled at the ground.
The drive home felt bittersweet. The electricity was fading without Jules around. I drove home to The Future Cast’s ‘Lovers March’ and blared the song out open windows, belting each word. I was a fool and loved every minute of it. I got home a little sooner than I usually did, ran up the hill to the house, and burst through our kitchen door, startling my mother.
“Elliott! What’s gotten into you son?”
“Sorry mama,” I said sheepishly, cautiously closing the door behind me. “I had a really good day at school today.”
“Oh really? Fix that little problem?”
She stood at the stove, one hand on her hip, stirring something in a pot.
“Yes ma’am,” I said, kissing her cheek and grabbing an apple before heading up the creaky stairs to my room.
I purposely took my ‘non-squeak’ path, as I called it, carefully choosing the random spots on the random steps that avoided sound. It took me years to figure out the combination and I got a kick out of knowing it by heart. Maddy bothered me incessantly about teaching it to her but my dad said it was good for her not to know for fear a seventeen year old version of Maddy would use it for dubious purposes.
“Got a lot of homework ma’. Just call me for dinner.”
