Chapter Twenty-Five [Liam]

*this chapter contains multimedia relevant to the plot*

That's where my conversation with Rafael, the pool boy from Malibu, cuts off. I never bothered replying and he stopped trying to reach out.

That last string of texts is from that night after Christmas, when Eli and I hooked up in my car, in the Ice Arenas parking lot. After that night, we did that again twice more before New Year's. And once after too.

It's been almost a month since I've been with Eli now. He doesn't acknowledge me at school or at the rink. And, honestly, I'm pissed.

For all that I try to dismiss my friends' jabs and little jokes, the truth is I had a good thing going with Rafael. Sure, when we separated last summer I meant it to be over. But then we kept texting and he wasn't half-boring. I wasn't completely sure yet if I really wanted him to come visit in spring break, but I kind of liked talking to him. And there were certainly enough memories of our summer together to keep me interested in the possibility of keeping it up.

Then Eli bludgeoned his way into my life.

I was fine watching from afar, making up the occasional fantasy in my head starring one incredibly attractive hockey player while playing around with my newly explored sexuality. Then he actually tried to kiss me. And I couldn't fucking believe it when it happened.

I had been half-expecting him to put his foot down and end our little... whatever... until winter break. Something changed around that time, though. Maybe after the car hook-up, maybe after that New Year's night at the lake. But, for some reason, I was finally convinced that what I could see was what I would get. One incredibly attractive hockey player who was firmly set into closet-land, but was down for secret hook-ups.

I was surprised he came to my room that night. I was surprised at how earnest he was in his advances. I was especially surprised at how totally incapable of resisting I was.

But, fuck, that night must have been a completely different experience for the two of us. Because not even the best of nights with Rafael felt like that.

Nothing ever felt like that.

I can't say I have a long lists of hook-ups and relationships for comparison. In fact, aside from kissing Betty Weiss in eighth grade, fooling around with Mack in sophomore and junior year, and the summer with Rafael, that's about it. And none of that felt like what it did with Eli.

At first, I thought it was just intense physical attraction. You always wonder if really attractive people truly deliver as much as their looks promise when it comes down to private time, but I figured I just got lucky. I got a sexy jock who knows how to press the right buttons, even if it was clear he was completely inexperienced with men. Maybe he was just a natural.

But I think there was more to it. There was definitely more to that night nearly four weeks ago at The Lodge.

I still can't get over how wholly he delivered himself to me. I had gotten a taste of how pliant and willing and eager Eli could be when we were alone, but I never expected him to be that vulnerable. Not like that. I never dreamed he would trust me enough to let me touch him like that, make him ready for what we were about to do, then allow me to lose my self-control, my mind, myself in him.

Shit. Did it feel different for him?

I remember how he called my name and encouraged me to keep going, asked me to give him more, told me exactly what he wanted, praised me when I gave it to him. He was lost in the moment too. We shared something that night. I felt it.

Didn't he?

Has my brain filtered the memory of that night through my feelings and distorted his reactions? Did he make himself vulnerable to me and regret it? Did I fail his expectations?

Fuck, can you turn someone straight from sucking in bed?

I don't suck in bed, though. Mack never complained. Neither did Rafael. In fact, on the contrary. And that night with Eli was amazing.

All the awkwardness and discomfort of first times was there, but so was the familiarity and the trust we have been building for months. We took it slow and steady, we talked and he... I can still hear him moan my name, for fuck's sake. Did I make that up?

No!

What the hell am I doing? I never doubted myself like this. How have I ended up sitting alone in my car, in a dark parking lot, waiting for a boy who's been ignoring me for weeks?

I was pissed, that's how. But that's how it always goes whenever I think about Eli lately. First, I'm pissed; then I start questioning everything that happened this past year. But I can't do this now. There's a reason I decided to wait at the Ice Arenas for Eli to come out.

Over the course of a few months, Eli has taken over bits and pieces of my thoughts. And now, thanks to that night, he's completely taken over my mind.

That needs to stop.

He finally comes out of the Ice Arenas when the clock on my car's screen marks 11:48 PM. I step out of the car, where I've been sitting since I finished my own practice, to the cold night air and walk up to him. Eli sees me before I reach him.

I half-expect him to say something before I have the chance to speak — cut me off, try to explain, give me some form of excuse, try to run off, escape confrontation. He goes with none of the above. Right. Almost forgot. Not the most communicative of people.

I huff, frustrated either at the fact that he didn't try to speak first, or that now I have to, or the situation as whole.

"We need to talk." That's not quite right. "Actually, I need to say something to you." Yeah, that's more like it.

He presses his lips together, but doesn't stop me. He doesn't encourage me either. Not even a slight tilt of head to show me he's engaging.

Urgh. Fuck you, Eli Blake.

"Look," I start. "I get the other night might not have been... what you were expecting." His grip on his duffel bag strap tightens critically. "I get that it might have been something that maybe you weren't ready for, or more than you actually wanted... But. I tried to stop it like a million times and check in. I asked you if that was what you wanted, I made sure you were sober, I kept asking you if you were okay, and I told you I didn't want to do anything if you were going to hate me afterward!"

His throat visibly tightens with a nervous gulp and he anxiously looks around the deserted parking lot.

I didn't mean to raise my voice. Or ramble. I take a deep breath, trying to get a grip of myself.

I lower my voice. "I'm sorry if you regret what we did. But I can't let you make me feel like I did something hideous, or vile, or—"

"Sorry."

I stop talking and wait for him to fill the silence. Hazel-gray eyes gaze down at the floor between us.

"For what?" I ask quietly.

He's sorry we did it, I think. He's sorry we had sex. He's sorry we've ever got involved in whatever this is. Whatever this was.

Eli forces himself to look at me. The effort of it seems to drain the last bit of energy in his body. He gulps. "I never meant to make you feel like I blamed you for... whatever."

That is... weak. At best.

He looks down.

Despite myself, I let out and incredulous laugh. "You got nothing else to give me? Just a shoddy, half-assed version of 'it's not you, it's me'?"

Eli bites down on his lip.

This is what I wanted. To confront Eli. Tell him what I needed to, see his reaction. But it all feels so... underwhelming. Is this incomplete feeling in my chest I have now better than the anger I had before? Is the anger even gone? Can I even be angry at someone who looks so... defeated?

Maybe I could be. But do I want to? Is it worth it? Probably not.

So I turn around, get in my car, and drive off.

***

Oof, Liam's about done. Wonder what kind of reaction that'll trigger in Eli...

There are some chapters that practically write themselves and others that take me ages. This one was easy. The next couple of chapters were really hard to put into words and they might be a heavier read. Just warning ahead.

I'll also might need an extra day to edit them before posting.

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you liked this chapter, maybe leave a vote or a comment :)