Chapter 30

elliot

I’m almost to the door when Mom catches me off guard.

“Mija,” she says in her sternest warning voice, “make good choices.”

“When do I not?” I joke, wondering how much they know, what all they’ve figured out. What if they know? What if they don’t let me go to Alyssa’s, because “sex bad”?

Dad quirks an eyebrow. “Ellie, you know you can tell us anything.”

“I know.” Of course I know that. I just don’t follow up with it.

“Listen, Ellie, I know I say pretty judgemental things sometimes, but it’s just because I care, okay?” Mom leans forward and gives me this sharp, intense look. “I just want to see you happy. I might just worry too much about you. So, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, ever.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” I say quietly, even though I suddenly feel stripped away, completely vulnerable. She’s never said anything like this before. She usually gets Dad to say it for her.

Mom shakes her head and places her hands in the air, like she’s surrendering. “No, no, it’s not. I push you a little too hard sometimes, and I’m sorry.”

“We just want you to be happy. No matter what that means for you,” Dad says, his face softer than I’ve seen it in a long time. Such a long time that I think I might have been in elementary school when I last saw it.

“I love you guys,” I mutter. “I know you’re coming from a good place. I just … need to figure myself out a bit. I’m sorry if it’s stressful. I get it.”

“Te quiero, mija,” Mom says, reaching across the coffee table. I cross over and bend down to give her a tight hug. Her chin jabs into my shoulder, but I don’t care. “Te quiero mucho.”

“Te quiero mucho también, mami,” I whisper.

“I love the dog more than the two of you,” Dad says, “but you’re pretty okay, kiddo.”

Mom pulls away and thwaps his knee. “Why are you always so cruel, Hooker?”

“You married me.”

“I must be a masochist,” she says. “Imagine spending the rest of my life with some dog-lover. Masochism.”

“Or you just felt bad that I couldn’t legally marry the dog. It was a pity marriage.”

“Okay,” I say, backing away towards the door. Not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. “On the pitying masochist note, Imma leave. Bye, parents.”

“Goodbye,” Dad says as Mom says, “Be good to that girl.”

“Peace out,” I mutter, then shut the door.

Alyssa is frowning at her phone when I near the car, but she sets it face down in her lap when I squeeze myself into the driver’s seat. “You all toothbrushed up?” she asks me.

“Oh, definitely.” I smile over at her. I would kiss her right here, right now, if it weren’t for the fact I’m eighty-percent sure my parents are looking out the window to see me leave. I can tell they were a little surprised I actually managed to make a friend who isn’t some total weirdo child, or a sudden add-on to the trio of Duncan, Neema, and myself. I don’t know if I should find it insulting or endearing that my parents know the extent of my unsociable nature.

“To the Hargreaves’s!” I cheer, turning up the radio. The Dodie song resumes, and we finish off our little carpool karaoke, easily transitioning to the next Cavetown number, and the next Still Woozy, and the next Chloe Moriondo. In-between belting lyrics like there’s no tomorrow, we manage to fit in little snippets of conversation, from recommending artists the other doesn’t know, to talking about plans for Cumm-n-Gitt ice cream.

Dusty Springfield the Van isn’t in the driveway, but I still park alongside the curb. I know that Alyssa’s dad—although I’ve yet to meet him—gets home late in the evenings, and I don’t want to force someone out onto the street in their own home.

“House sweet house,” Alyssa mutters.

“Imagine eating a house, though,” I say. “I feel like between the two of us, we could probably manage it, but also, the sugary stomach cramps would not rock. And the sugar crash? Oh my god, no.”

She snorts. “C’mon, let’s just go inside, doofus.”

My heart is definitely on the verge of combustion as we make our way up the steps and into the living room. I don’t even stop to untie my shoes all the way; instead, like the rebel I apparently am, I loosen them enough to shuck off chaotically, then press them together in a neat pair.

“You are a dork,” Alyssa says, tossing her sandals in a pile of random shoes.

“You have tiny feet,” I retort, and just like that, we’re kissing.

Her arms are wrapped loosely around my neck, and my hands feel stronger around her hips than normal. Usually, we’d stumble and fumble along backwards to Alyssa’s room, but today, I’m feeling it. I grab the backs of her thighs and whisper, “Hold on tight.”

I lift her like she’s some kind of frontal human backpack, managing somehow to walk all the way to her bedroom without tripping or dying or dropping her (or laughing, because I can only think of Elliot and E.T. jokes now, god-fucking-dammit), or even walking super slow. She’s not even that heavy, I realize. I could do this more. I should do this more.

She laughs at first, but then she sucks in a breath, and I love the feel of it against my mouth. I could hold her here like this forever if I were able. As soon as we’re at the foot of the bed, though, I practically yeet her atop the mattress.

She laughs. “Wow, you just tossed me like a caber.”

“There can only be one,” I tell her, then awkwardly walk on my knees towards her. It’s hard to balance on your knees on a mattress, which is something I probably should have figured out before attempting this. Alyssa doesn’t seem to mind, though. She just laughs, grabbing the lapels of my sweatshirt and tugging me into her.

This feels different than our previous make outs. Like, we’ve been deep and intense and all that before, but this … this is more. For all the intensity and depth of previous moments, this is far intenser and far deeper.

I’m not even sure if I’m breathing at this point. All I know is that I’m here with Alyssa, and it feels very humid in this room, and things are most definitely about to go down, and I didn’t realize just how ready for this I truly am.

We take our time, and finally, when we slip into properly new territory, it’s all I can do not to ask a bajillion questions. I’ve noticed that Alyssa is good about telling me what she wants—really, she’s fantastic. It’s the perfect mix of my figuring out and stumbling through my first time everything-ing and of her gentle, breathy guidance.

Maybe it’s not smooth, and maybe it’s not perfect, but I don’t think we are, either. I couldn’t ask for anything more. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.

I love her.

–

I never realized how nice it is to just hold someone.

Alyssa’s body is warm against mine, and I think she might be on the verge of falling asleep, although I’m sure she’d deny it. Her eyes are shut, though, and she’s made herself comfortable against my chest, her arms looped loosely around me. I find myself lightly brushing my thumb over her shoulder and watching as her breathing slows.

We’ll need to get changed in a couple of minutes, but for now, I’m just going to bask in the shock of, holy fuck, that just happened.

Alyssa has even more freckles than I’d realized. I hadn’t really had time to notice them the other day before she fished out, but they’re all over her shoulders and chest, and they reach all the way down to her hips in the back. She’s naturally pale, but I can tell where she gets the most sun by how dark and how large the freckles are. I don’t know why, but it’s somehow the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

She’s more than just cute, though. Alyssa is fucking beautiful, and I really hope she understands this, because I feel like I’m obligated to tell her every five minutes just in case she doesn’t. I love more than just the curve of her hips or feeling the ridges of her spine. I love more than her tiny little hands and her cute squishy little nose and how her top lip is just slightly bigger than her bottom lip and the fact that when she laughs, her face bunches up and her whole body shakes like she’s experiencing a one-person earthquake. I somehow love more than her in her entirety. I just love, love, love.

“You still awake?” I whisper, because I know I’m tired, and I would hate to wake her if she has fallen asleep. I totally wouldn’t blame her for drifting off right now. If it weren’t for the fact that we need to get dressed coupled with the notion that her dad or Tanner could come home and find us cuddling in bed, I would probably be out like the outtest of lights.

She shifts a little, nuzzling her cheek against my chest. It feels electric. “Maybe,” she says.

I comb back a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “We should probably get dressed.”

“Five more minutes.”

“Maybe two. I would hate for your dad’s first Elliot encounter to be a very naked Elliot.”

She frowns, although her eyes remain shut. “I like naked Elliot. Naked Elliot is epic.”

“Not as epic as naked Alyssa.”

“You shhhhh,” she mutters. “Ugh, I am totally going to fall asleep.”

“Clothes first. Then sleep.”

She grumbles something incoherent, and I hold her to me as I awkwardly scooch to a seated position. Her eyes refuse to open. I lean my head down and kiss her forehead softly. “Come on,” I say, rubbing her arm. “Let’s do the clothes.”

Still grumbling, she slides out of bed and crosses the hardwood, over to her dresser. We finished her unpacking about a week ago, and it’s still kind of weird without the stacks of boxes about the room, almost like a little model city.

“I am staring at your ass,” I inform her, seeing my patnies on the floor and grabbing them with one foot like the monkey genius I am.

“I have an ass? Huh, I had no idea.”

“Is that sass I’m picking up?”

Alyssa turns around, hopping on one foot as she attempts to slide on a pair of granny pannies. “No. Not at all.”

“Do those … do those have penguins on them?”

“Judge me not, tall one.”

“I’m not judging. I find penguins very, very sexy.”

She picks her bra up off the floor, then stands back up and poses like a pin-up girl. Fuck, I love it. “That’s why I chose them. I saw them in my drawer and, instead of thinking ‘Shit I should have done some laundry oh no,’ I thought ‘Ah yes, penguinal attraction. This will give metaphysical boners to all the ladies.'”

“Worked on me,” I say. I don’t tell her it’s definitely working right now.

She rolls her eyes, and I love that the tip of her nose reddens a little.

I slide out of bed and we dress side by side, me in my long Costco pants I got way-oversized in the 9th grade and have now almost outgrown, and Alyssa in a pair of cute black shorts with rainbows on the sides.

I inform her that these shorts are incredibly gay. She winks in response, and we’re still laughing by the time we’ve put our shirts back on.

We have perfect timing, because just at that moment, the squeaky front door opens and shuts. “Ally Bally? Tanner?”

“Here, Dad!” Alyssa shouts, scrambling for her door. “Coming!”

She jogs out to the living room, and I follow behind a little slower. “Hi, Dad,” she says, skidding to a stop. “How was work?”

“Dull. Someone brought in Chick-fil-A, which led to a very intense staff-wide argument about the ethics of eating from a chain that supports dumb crap but is owned by an independent manager that might not support that same crap.” He rubbed his forehead. “I despise politics. And Chick-fil-A.”

“I know,” says Alyssa. “Also, this is Elliot.”

Alyssa’s dad is surprisingly tall. Like, only an inch or two shorter than me. I guess their mom was the one who passed the short gene onto Tanner and Alyssa—which is weird to think about, because the idea that Alyssa has a mom, a mermaid mom, still somehow confuzzles me. We don’t talk about her much. In fact, after I woke Alyssa up after her tail incident and she asked for her mom, she hasn’t come up since.

“Hey there!” he says. “I would offer you a handshake, but my hands are probably gross. I need to go wash away the sins of Chick-fil-A. I’m Jeff.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I say with a nod that might be too bro-ish and not hello-father-of-my-secret-girlfriend-ish.

He waves me off. “Please, Jeff. Alright, I’m gonna go wash my hands. Have you girls eaten?”

“We’re probably just going to go have some ice cream at some point,” Alyssa says.

“Ice cream? This late? Where?”

“That convenience store I told you about? The one Tanner can’t believe looks like a janky Trader Joes but with the occasional weirder food find?”

“Oh, right.” He rubs his forehead again. “Of course.” He’s still in navy scrubs that accentuate his thick upper arms. This guy looks like he could probably flick a tree out of the ground.

“Well, we’re gonna go hang out in my room,” Alyssa says. “We’ll be there if you need us.”

“Okay. Behave.”

Alyssa’s ears and the tip of her nose go red. “I will, Dad. I—yes.”

Jeff just shrugs.

“Your dad seems really nice,” I tell her when we’re back in her room.

“He is,” Alyssa agrees, and she definitely means it. “And he’s super chill and supportive. He’s a fantastic dad.”

I nod, thinking about my own parents. “Is it okay if I ask something?”

Alyssa is sprawled out across her bed, her hair tied back and loose strands of strawberry blonde framing her face. “Shoot,” she says.

“How … how did your dad adjust to your mom leaving?” I ask, then immediately follow up with, “You do not have to answer.”

“No, it’s fine.” She sits up, and her loose tank top slides down a bit, teasing me. “He adjusted pretty quickly, actually. I think he always assumed she would have to leave, I guess. Tanner and I—we never thought it would happen, y’know? When you’re a kid, you figure everyone is there forever, and your parents are these super invincible people who know what’s best for you and can take care of themselves like they’re a god or something. Guess my mom wasn’t a god.”

She pulls her hair over her shoulder to play with it, something I’ve noticed she does regularly, but more so when she’s stressed. Her fingers are nimble and shaky at the same time. “She ended up having to leave because she was fishing out so much. It’s really painful—as you already know—and she couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again, which sucks, because she’s my mom, and I love her. But I understand why she did it. Even if it hurts.”

I nod slightly. “That must have been really hard on you and Tanner.”

“It was.” She laughs dryly. “She thought it was for the best? Which is so crazy to me, but whatever. I just, I wish I could ask her now about what really sent her over the edge. What made it easier to leave, what made it so unbearable that she couldn’t stay with us.”

“What do you think she’d say?”

Alyssa shrugs. “I have no idea. I just don’t want it to happen to me, y’know? Like, I have so much on land that I love. I don’t want to leave it for anything. My happiness is here. And that outweighs all the pain and anxiety. I would have thought it would for her, too.”

She lays down. “Y’know,” she says softly, “sometimes I dream about her. But, I am her? It’s just weird. I get why she left. I totally get it. And it terrifies me.”

“I think it’s okay for it to terrify you,” I tell her after mulling it over. “But, we’re here for you, okay? So like, anytime you’re feeling particularly terrified, just let someone like me or Tanner or your dad know. We just want what’s best for you.”

She reaches up and laces our fingers together. I squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“I used to dream that she’d come back some day,” she says. “It was so stupid. I mean, she left because she couldn’t stay on land anymore. For all intents and purposes, she’s dead at this point. But I had this fantasy of her showing up on a birthday or for Christmas or for graduation. And every year, she missed it, again and again. I think that might have been part of why I was so upset we left Woodbury, really. How is she supposed to find us now?”

“Alyssa,” I whisper, “I … I don’t really know what to say. I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay,” she says, but I don’t really know if I believe that it is.

A/N: GOSH it’s been a while. Um. Sorry.

I’ve been going through quite a bit, and while it’s dying down, Wattpad has hardly been on my radar. Sorry about that! Still, here’s the chapter I owed you too long ago–and a little bonus to follow. 😉

But yeah, this is the big one????? Tell me what you think! (BTW, only four chapters left…)