Literally by Lucy Keating

Author:Lucy Keating
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-02-06T16:00:00+00:00

13

Because I’m with You

IF ELLIOT is surprised when I kiss him, he doesn’t show it for very long. Within seconds he drops the empty beer can he’s holding and wraps his arms around me, too. And when he pulls away, he rests his head against mine.

“Annabelle,” he says with a kind of laugh. Like he’s just woken up and seen me there. Like he has things to say but all that he can manage was my name. I don’t mind this very much. It turns out the one thing you could do to shut Elliot up is kiss him.

I should be more focused on what I’d just done. I’d kissed my brother’s best friend. I’d kissed a person who half the time I couldn’t stand, and genuinely seemed to loathe me in return. I’d kissed someone who wasn’t Will, and I’d done it at Will’s party. In Will’s house.

Elliot leans in and nuzzles my cheek.

But I don’t care. Because all of a sudden I realize something: I’d kissed the person I’d wanted to kiss all along. For once, I wasn’t thinking about my plan or Lucy’s plan. For once I was just doing what I wanted.

“You wanna get out of here?” Elliot voice crackles in my ear.

Things whirl in my mind. What will tomorrow be like? What will people say? Is there even any future here?

Then my eyes meet Elliot’s, and they are smoldering. And all that ends up coming out is “Yeah.”

I had my bike parked at Will’s house, and after we snuck down the back staircase and out the side door, Elliot borrowed another from the garage. I didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone. Not Will, not even Ava. I didn’t want anyone disrupting this perfect moment.

On our way home we stop at a taco shop on Rose Avenue and devour a couple of carnitas as we sit on the edge of the sidewalk. Elliot has his arm draped around my shoulder, and it feels different than it did with Will. With Will it felt good, too, but I was so aware of his presence, about whether he was the right fit for me. With Elliot I don’t care how we look to anyone, or what anyone thinks. I just want to listen, to hear his weird stories. This is not about anyone but us.

There is magic in Venice no matter what, but you really feel it at night, especially when you’re riding a bike. The streets empty out, and the warm air whips around you as the lamps and patio lights fly by. You think the world is yours. As if you can do anything. As if you could ride your bike to Mexico if you felt like it.

We’re almost home, and Elliot rides up ahead, his arms open wide, no hands. I giggle. He loops back and circles around me.

“I like your dress,” he says. “Did I tell you that yet?”

“No, but thank you,” I say, struggling to keep my tone even as I look straight ahead.

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