Chapter 28

elliot

I’ve never been more grateful to have Sundays off. Duncan has stuck to his Beauty and the Beast ambitions, and honestly, he’s not terrible. We’re at his house, where Neema is guiding him through the audition script the director posted somewhere online. He’s getting into it in this way I didn’t think he could. Duncan is always just so … Duncan. Right now, though, he definitely seems more like the Beast. It’s freaky.

Then he says, “Rawr,” in a deep bass tone and totally ruins it.

“You think that I’ll get it?” he asks Neema after running through it a few times. We’ve been giving him feedback—Neema moreso than I—and he’s been taking it in stride. “I know I’m a junior, but I haven’t done a play before.”

“You’ve got it. We only have two other guys this year,” Neema says, shaking her head.

I glance over at her, where she’s sprawled across Nelson family’s living room couch. Her sweatshirt is oversized and pastel pink and bears a small toothpaste mark, and her leggings are covered in Lady’s fur. Cat hair and all, she manages to look good. Photo-ready. I, on the other hand, am in my pyjama shirt from last night and a dirty pair of shorts I stole from Duncan years ago. Very not photo-ready.

“Wait, what happened to John Johnson and the Regan twins? And Adam Turner?” I ask her. They were the local Theatre Whores, really rambunctious guys who might have been more popular at a different school. I’m not even sure if they were gay or not, but—according to both Ambers—had “really girly vibes” that were a total social turn-off.

Maybe I should have spent more time with them.

Neema shifts her coils away from her face and pouts. “Graduated. All of them.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. The bitches.” She pushes her massive sleeves up to her elbows. “But yeah, so, there are two freshmen guys coming in from the middle school everyone is super excited about. Neither of them are particularly Beastly, though, so.”

“Duncan time?” Duncan asks, grinning.

“Duncan time.”

“Dude,” I say, “remember how you said you couldn’t pull a High School Musical: The Musical: The Series?”

Duncan peels off one disgusting sock and flings it in my direction. “Don’t jinx me, devil woman!”

“Anyways,” Neema interrupts, “Duncan, I think you have a good chance. These kids are low-key sopranos. Not very Beastly.”

“Imagine your balls not having dropped yet,” I say. “Couldn’t be me. Are either of them Gastonly?”

Neema laughs. “No, unfortunately. Which means you could probably convince Klein to let you genderbend.”

“I thought you weren’t kinky enough to chew through leather?” Duncan asks.

I throw the sock back. It hits him on the forehead, and he lets out a strangled gasp as he swats it away from him, onto the carpet. “Kinks change, baby girl.” We haven’t talked about my feelings towards the swim team, but I think we all know I won’t be going back. Not after everything a few weeks ago. It’s been radio silence ever since, even at work (minus constant, ignorable glares), but I don’t need to invite a resurgence in the drama.

The two of them gag. “Ewwww,” says Neema. “Gross.”

“Got any eggs?” I ask, already preparing to shield myself from the next sock. “I need to up my intake.”

“Just the eggs inside me,” Neems says. “My baby eggs. My mini-Neema eggs.”

“The forbidden caviar,” muses Duncan.

I nearly fall off the couch. It only makes me laugh harder. “Leave. Leeeeaaaave.”

“I hate you,” Neema manages between choking laughs. “OhmyGod I hate you so much.”

“I love me. I rock. Caviar.”

–

Duncan’s mom, Marissa, insists we stay over for dinner. She’s this slightly pudgy-yet-built woman with blonde hair and Duncan’s honey eyes, and when she invites you over for dinner, you stay. Dinner with the Nelson’s usually is just some form of pizza and the permission to go to Duncan’s room to watch some crap show. It’s very chill, very laid-back, and very us.

Tonight, the pizza child of choice is pizza rolls. Duncan (as always) doesn’t wait for his rolls to cool down, and burns his mouth. He used to work as a pizza delivery boy, and the boy has always had an issue with choking on cheese. Like, to the degree that it looks to be on purpose at this point. You would think he would learn. He does not. “Ah, ah, ah—hot why hot ahahahahaha.”

“Darwin claims you should be dead by now,” Neema says, shaking her head. She lays down and uses his thigh as a pillow, glaring up at him. “If you get hot pizza roll guts on my face, you will die a painful death.”

“Haaaaaaaaaaat,” Duncan says, fanning his open-hanging mouth.

“Smited,” she continues, her chin jutted out. “Smote.”

I wonder how they would feel if Alyssa used me as her pillow in front of them, or if we held hands and kissed. Not, like, full-blown make out. But PDA for sure. It hits me right then: I really want them to know about me and Alyssa.

We’ve been keeping our canoodling pretty secretive, although I guess I wouldn’t be surprised if Neema and Duncan had guessed. Especially Duncan—he’s usually the one who’s able to best recognise what both Neema and I are thinking. And lately, Alyssa has been all I’m thinking about.

It was Thursday when she fished out, and I still don’t really know how I feel about it. Like, it’s not as if I didn’t know that I’m dating (dating?) a mermaid. But seeing her in pain and upset is really discomforting. I’m glad that leaving like she asked and then coming back with dweebish Hard Cow ice cream was the right move, but what if it hadn’t been? What if she was still in pain? The thought of Alyssa hurting hurts too much.

Next time it happens, I decide, I’m not leaving.

“You good, Ellie?” asks Duncan as he flicks a small speck of pizza roll jizz off his basketball shorts. “You look borderline constipated.”

“Just prune deficient, thanks.”

Behind her large-framed glasses, Neema’s brow scrunches up. “Nah, something is up. Are you okay?”

I try my best to smile convincingly. I’m not a strong smiler when I mean it, though, so it comes out all wobbly and awkward, like a Peanuts character. “I’m totally fine. Just thinking about how Duncan can’t eat anything above room temperature.”

“Bruh, you’re obviously thinking about things. That’s your thinking face.”

“And your borderline constipated face,” adds Neema. “Seriously, if something’s up, you can tell us. You can tell us anything.”

I shake my head. No way they’d get this. “Sorry guys, I’m just out of it today. Seriously, I’m fine.”

They both don’t look entirely convinced, but then Duncan says, “I wonder how many pizza rolls Gaston could eat,” and things feel far more back to normal.

A while after we’ve finished our pizza rolls and a quarter way through season one of Galavant, I get a text from Alyssa asking me what I’m up to. Every time she texts me, it’s like my heart booms outward. Like there’s a bass drop in my soul or some cheesy crap.

You up to anything rn?

just off on a quest for holy grail. currently fending off artful doctors inside castle anthrax. u?

Tanner wants to drag me to some get together of Jace’s.

you sound very meh about this

Well it’s hardly a party if you aren’t there. Want to come?

hehehehe DO I

Perfect! You can bring Neema and Duncan if you want

okay

so like real quick

they don’t know about … us. do you want them to?

This response takes a little longer, and I hate how intently I stare at my phone all the while, like my burning gaze can somehow make her type faster. Her eventual answer doesn’t really feel like much of an answer at all, but I assume she means do what I like.

Only if you want them to.

gimme a time and place and we’ll be there

Rad!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOT.

–

Jace Westerfeld’s house feels smaller than it did in the seventh grade, when the athletic kids would all come here to hang out because it was always tidy and well-kept, yet his parents were never home. I was just a mildly-athletic kid, definitely not as pretty as the other girls who came over to scandalously sit on laps and repeatedly invite everyone to join them in spin the empty bottle of Diet Coke, but my standing with Brooklin and the other swim girls got me in.

The parties stopped not too long ago, a few months or so before Jace came out. I wonder if his friends reacted towards him like mine did. I mean, like, I haven’t spoken to Taffy or Brooklin or any of them since I rolled up my car window. I’ve slowly been coming to terms with just how awful they are. Whether or not you want to label their actions and words as homophobia, they still made me feel like complete and total shit. And I don’t need that.

Which is, of course, why I see Taffy on the living room couch and immediately want to turn around.

“Ugh,” Neema says, “it’s the swim skanks.”

“Bruh, don’t put other women down like that,” Duncan warns. “It’s super unnecessary. But also, diving diva doucheholes.”

“Poolside pricklickers.”

“Ooh that’s a good one. Um, chlorinated coochies.”

I’m not sure if I’m still walking or not. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion, like I’m swimming through maple syrup. “Guys, cut it out.”

“Sorry,” Duncan mutters.

“Not sorry. We’re dynamite. But I’ll stop.”

I just need to find Alyssa. Once I find her, then we can go find discreet place to be, and we’ll be far from Taffy and her stupid “Are you gay?” traps and gaslightings, and plenty far from Brooklin and her gleefully toxic stares.

Alyssa isn’t answering my texts, though, so I pocket my phone and decide to look around. Duncan and Neema follow slowly behind, whispering to each other what are probably more crude nicknames about the people I used to consider my sisters, before they turned around and acted like no family ever should. Maybe they deserve the name-calling. Maybe not. Regardless, I tell myself, I don’t have to care. They don’t deserve an inch of brainspace.

“Elliot! Elliot!” someone shouts, and I spot Norm at the Westerfeld’s snack-packed island, waving like I’m some plane passing above his deserted shipwreck cay. I recognise the girl next to him—she works at the Cumm-n-Gitt too, I realise. “Heyyyy, cult buddy!”

I give him a solid nod, even though it suddenly feels like everyone’s watching us. I hate that feeling, but I try and shrug it off like some other person might be able to. “What’s up, man?”

“Nothing much,” he says. “Just doling out snacks like a good host.”

Wait. “This is your party?”

“Kinda. Co-hosting with Jace. And Noelle here.” The girl next to him waves. It’s nice to have a name to the familiar face—in my head, she’s just been Dramatic Makeup Girl.

I’m very slow to comprehend things. “You know Jace?”

“It’s probably good to know your step brother.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhh.” I pick a Red Solo cup from the snack. “Sorry, I’m really oblivious.”

Norm laughs it off. “You’re good. It only happened last summer, anyways. So yeah, don’t even worry about it. And, this is Noelle, my sister. She’s a sophomore.”

“Hi,” Noelle says. Her voice is soft and velvety and smooth. “We used to be in swim together back in middle school.”

“We were?” She certainly looks familiar, but I can’t guess how.

She nods and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t out back then.”

And that’s when I remember. And the world stops. “Oh my gosh, it’s been a hot freaking second.” In middle school, there was a boy in the grade beneath me who, looking back, looked almost exactly like a baby Norm. I don’t feel the urge to remember the name right now, because Noelle is here and Noelle has her own name that she obviously prefers, but it’s so weird yet refreshing to remember that I had a non-toxic swim team friend once. Someone who gets it.

And then I realise, she’s off the team too. Splendid.

She smiles, and I can see a faint blush spread beneath her makeup. “It has, dude.”

I can smell Neema’s apricot deodorant behind me. “Hey, Norm, what’s up?” she says as Duncan reaches across the island to first bump him. “How’s your step-mom?”

“Great, thanks!” Norm is positively beaming. “I’ll have to tell her you were here!”

Neema grabs her own cup and hands one back to Duncan. “Yeah, please do! Is she going to do more wrestling team concession stands this year? Because, I will so sign up to her shifts.”

“I’ll ask her for sure. She talks about you nonstop.”

“Aw, that’s really nice of her.” Neema pours herself what I’m going to hope is fruit punch. “Tell her I said thanks, okay? Bye, Norm!”

Neema grabs Duncan by the hand and tugs him back into the living room, dragging him and his empty cup like some kind of giddy toddler. Great. Abandoned. Huzzah.

“Hey, Norm, I have a question.”

“Shoot!” Norm is good at eye contact. It seems very natural, which is weird, because it’s also very intense.

He probably knows who Tanner is, right? He and Jace have been hanging out even more than Alyssa and I have been, which is saying a lot. “Do you know Tanner? His sister invited me here—”

“Alyssa’s on the back deck,” Noelle says, smiling. “You’ll have to pass by Brooklin and them, though, so be careful.”

“I still can’t believe they’re here,” Norm mutters.

Noelle shrugs. “It could be worse.”

“How? They’re the worst.”

She rolls her eyes and passes him a Tostido. “Eat. Go have fun with Alyssa, Elliot.”

I try and grin back at her with the calibre of grin she affords me, but it doesn’t work nearly as perfectly. “Thanks.”

“No prob. See ya!”

Apparently the back deck doesn’t wind around through a back hallway like I hoped it would. I discreetly glance into the living room, where I can’t see Neema and Duncan, but I can most definitely see Brooklin and Taffy in their signature position, Taffy’s legs poised solidly on Brooklin’s lap, Brooklin’s hands firmly on Taffy’s thighs. Ugh, Noelle was right. Just gotta be careful.

The two of them seem really focused on whatever likely-vapid conversation they’re having. I decide I’ll just be able to sneak past them. No way they’ll notice me.

Of course I’m wrong.

“Elliot!” calls Brooklin, attempting to warm her cold voice. “El!”

I make the mistake of glancing over. Taffy waggles her finger in some sort of non-ironic wave. I just walk past like I don’t even see them, even though we all know I have.

The back deck is crowded with various teens and even a few college students I recognise from graduated classes past. On the top of the steps leading down to the dry lawn below sits Alyssa, loosely braiding her hair. The thrill of seeing her, the literal glee, hasn’t worn off. Every time, it’s like I’ve been jumpstarted.

I grab her shoulders and whisper, “Guess who,” right against her ear.

She jumps and whaps me with her braid as she turns her head around. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” I say, though my laughter makes it apparent I’m really not. “How’s it going, little lady?”

“Oh my gosh, first you make me about crap my pants, and then you call me ‘little lady?’ Elliot, noooo.”

“Shut up, I’m fun.”

She angles her body towards mine. “You are. Outside of those two things.” Then she leans forward and kisses me quickly.

My whole body is on fire. Not just because of the kiss, but also because of thinking who might have seen. It’ll be fine, I tell myself. This is Jace’s house. Jace is out and proud.

Then again, Brooklin and Taffy are here, and who knows who else.

Not everyone is okay with this. I hate that.

“You want to go for a walk on the beach?” she asks.

“The beach is, like, fifteen minutes from here.”

She raises a brow. The lighting of the house is harsh yellow against her face. “Are you saying I can’t walk fifteen minutes and then some?”

“I’m not saying that.” I want to ask her what happens if she grows a tail, though. What if people see? It really is uncontrollable for her. And the idea of not being able to protect her from the prying eyes of others is absolutely mortifying.

Alyssa stands, and I realize she’s wearing a skirt. The sight is a mix of admiration and temptation. She works out more than I do, and it shows. Half of me is proud and happy for her for looking this badass, and the other half wants to be (is) a total weirdo thigh-guy. Just, dayum.

“C’mon,” she whispers, taking me hand and leading me down the steps and to the sparse grass below.

There aren’t as many people down here on the ground, but the light shining out from the Westerfeld’s game room basks the few random groups of people in a tangy yellow light. No one watches as we slip away, out of the light’s range, and into the long grass separating the back of Jace’s street from a bike path that leads towards the section of beach where Alyssa and I first met.

It’s weird to think I haven’t known her for more than a month. It feels like so much longer. Like she’s been a part of my life forever or something. It sounds so cheesy, but it’s true. I’m not really sure if this is love or not, but I wouldn’t complain if it was. In fact, I would kinda really like for it to be.

“You’re so quiet,” Alyssa says. The moon is a little sliver of light, and we’re navigating in the dark, meandering slowly along the path.

I look down and over at her. I always forget how short she really is; looking over and trying to pinpoint the exact origin of her voice reminds me that I’m over a foot taller than her. “Sorry. Quiet Elliot probably isn’t as fun.” Shit, that sounded too self-deprecating. “Um, but, yes.”

She nudges me. “You’re fine. I like all the Elliots.”

“Even Quiet Elliot?” I know she can’t see my attempt at a smirk, but it still feels right.

“Even Quiet Elliot.”

Alyssa tugs my hand a little, her pace slowing, so I match her and come to a stop. “I’m actually really glad I moved here,” she says. A slight wind blows in from up the path, smelling of wet sea and salty sand. “Meeting you has made me the happiest I’ve ever been, Elliot.”

Fuck. Words. I am not good with words. “Alyssa,” I try, reaching for her other hand in the dark. It takes a few seconds, but when I have both her palms in my grasp, everything feels a little more complete. “Being with you is … my favorite thing. I know I haven’t really known you for long, but you mean so much to me.”

I feel her standing on her tiptoes, so I bend down. Instead of our lips meeting, though, her mouth finds my ear, and she whispers three gentle words. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her in closer, and whisper them back.

A/N –

me: *does the slow-burn*
me: okay now time to have nothing but fluff ig hehehehe

Also just needed to say that these two girls definitely love “serotonin” by girl in red. Elliot loved aesthetic music and Alyssa is like “why do i feel these intrusive thoughts oh nooo” and just, yes. Go listen to it if you haven’t.

Aaaanyways, hoped you guys enjoyed. See you next week! ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))