Page 64 of Hurt

“Noah, are you drunk?”

“God, I hope so,” Noah mumbled as he braced himself on the bar. “Otherwise, I need to get my sight checked.”

Elijah glanced around the bar, looking for Kurt. But he was absent. Sid was serving drinks in his stead, looking a little flustered and out of sorts. Noah must have been sneaking alcohol.

“You’re underage,” Elijah admonished, his concern growing when Noah held a hand to his stomach and looked like he might puke.

Jamie elbowed his partner. “Dude, we call this a golden moment.”

“What?” Elijah asked.

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Go rescue the little damsel in distress. Take her outside for some air. Heroes are sexy, my guy.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowds.

“What is he up to?” Noah slurred. He was squinting at the spot Jamie had just vacated.

“I’m not sure, but I know two things: It won’t be legal, and I won’t like it. C’mon.” He came around the bar and slung an arm around a wobbly Noah.

Half dragging and half carrying, he finally got them out to the parking lot. Noah huffed as he sat down on a bedraggled-looking bench someone had stuck in between two sad-looking shrubs at the front of the building. Elijah sat next to him.

“Why were you drinking?”

“Why are you lying?” Noah fired back. He leaned back on the bench and extended his legs out in front of him. Closing his eyes, he rested the back of his head against the brick and took deep breaths.

Elijah sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. Hands loosely clasped, he regretted coming out here. He didn’t want to tell Noah who he really was. He liked the easy way he interacted with him.

Noah didn’t even ask if Elijah wanted to run errands with him—he just announced it, and Elijah found himself being dragged along. He had all the windows down and drove too fast. Foot on the pedal, wind blowing so hard they couldn’t think, he sang along to the radio neither one of them could hear. When he caught Elijah not singing, he tapped the brake until they both slammed against their seatbelts.

“You gotta sing along!” Noah had yelled.

Elijah did. He didn’t really know the words, but he yelled them out anyway, letting the wind snatch them away before they could be heard. The warm air coming off the desert filled the car, and Noah gunned it around cars having the audacity to go the speed limit.

When they finally arrived at the store, their hair was a mess, but they were laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Noah had said. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Elijah wished he hadn’t apologized.

Then they spent an hour arguing over what Molly’s scribbled handwriting meant. In the end, they bought everything they thought the words might say. Then they got ice cream and ate it in silence while they people-watched.

Elijah didn’t want to lose that. Even if it was fake. Even if it was tenuous at best. He needed it.

“I don’t want you to look at me any differently,” Elijah finally said, unable to look at Noah.

His desire for a normal relationship was a small secret he held onto. A tiny pebble that he could throw into the still waters of his memories to shake them up and change them into something beautiful. He knew it wasn’t lasting, but it was all he had sometimes.

“Pfft,” Noah snorted and then fell over, resting his head on Elijah’s shoulder. “That’s dumb.”

Elijah looked over at him. His eyes were still closed, and his cheek pressed into the point of Elijah’s shoulder.

“Why?”

“It would be fake,” Noah said like it was obvious. “If someone liked you for something you weren’t, it would be fake. Trust me. I know fake. I grew up with fake. Fake smiles. Fake laughs. Fake feelings. There isn’t anything worse than fake.”

Elijah hated that he was being scolded by a drunk guy two years his junior.

“You know expensive shit? Like handbags? People always think they’re getting a good deal by paying less for a fake, but the fakes fall apart. Their stitching comes out, and they don’t last. You get what you pay for, Elijah,” he said with eyebrows furrowed.