I sit in the wooden pew, my fingers laced together, immersed in the soothing hum of the church service. The familiar melodies fill the air, wrapping around me like a warm embrace. Glancing around, I find comfort in the presence of my loving family, their faces calm and focused.
But then, my attention is abruptly diverted as the grand doors swing open with a creak. My eyes widen as a figure enters, stealing the spotlight from the familiar faces around me. It is a boy about my age, unlike anyone I have ever seen before. With his dark hair tousled and a leather jacket adorning his shoulders, he exudes an air of confidence and mystery that sends a shiver down my spine.
Elijah, that is his name. Rumors of his rebellious nature have already reached my ears, but I have never laid eyes on him until now. As he walks down the aisle, flanked by his parents, my heart begins to race, my curiosity piqued. There is an undeniable magnetism about him that draws my gaze, and captivates my thoughts.
I cannot tear my eyes away, watching as Elijah settles into a pew nearby. His parents lean in, whispering something that makes him chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It is as if the room has come alive, buzzing with anticipation and intrigue.
As the service continues, I steal glances at him whenever I can, my heart fluttering with each stolen glimpse. There is something about him that awakens a sense of adventure within me, a longing to know more. Little do I realize that Elijah Reed will become more than just a passing face in a crowded room.
After the service concluded, my parents made the decision to head back home, seeking the comfort of familiarity. However, I found myself lingering around the church, using the excuse of catching bullfrogs to have a chance encounter with Elijah. In a tight-knit town like Oakwood, the influx of newcomers was a rarity, especially those hailing from the bustling city. The last time we had a fresh face in our community was when Sean's cousin relocated from a small town in Wyoming a couple of summers back, and since then, the arrival of strangers had been nonexistent.
Lost in my thoughts and the allure of the church pond, a deep voice jolts me back to reality, causing me to stagger dangerously close to falling in. In the nick of time, a pair of firm hands reaches out, interlocking with mine, and effortlessly pulls me to safety. Instantly, my gaze is captured by a set of mischievous, yet playful, brown eyes that exude an undeniable charm.
"Hey, I'm Elijah," he says, releasing my hands.
"I'm aware," I reply, realizing how strange that must have sounded as the words escape my lips. "Small town, news travels fast." I hope I don't come across as a creepy stalker, but he just chuckles. His laughter is pleasant.
"I'm Cory. Cory Miller," I finally introduce myself after realizing that he's still waiting.
"Well, Cory, what's there to do for fun around here?" he inquires.
"Sometimes, we go frog-catching," I gesture towards the pond. "The church organizes family nights every Saturday with food, games, and movies. And since it's football season, we gather to watch the games on Friday nights."
"That's all?" he asks incredulously. "What about the rest of the week?"
I don't want to come across as a total nerd, admitting that I spend most of my week studying to secure a spot in top-notch colleges far away from here. "Well, my parents run a farm, so I usually assist them with that too. Oakwood doesn't offer much in terms of entertainment," I honestly confess. The town consists of a small grocery store, a gas station, and a diner.
"A farm? That's interesting," he responds, his eyes brightening. "I have a soft spot for animals," he adds shyly.
"It's not as glamorous as it sounds," I chuckle, thinking about the constant cleaning up of animal waste and the relentless pursuit of chickens that always seem to chase me back into the house. "What about you? What did you enjoy doing back in the city?"
He quickly glances around, ensuring no one is watching, before retrieving something from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. It takes me a moment to register that it's a joint, a real marijuana joint.
"Do you partake?" he casually asks, as if it's the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Sometimes," I lie. While I've been offered marijuana before, it's always been easy to decline when you've known your classmates since you were toddlers. But for some reason, I really want to impress Elijah.
He glances ahead at the trails, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How about a cousin walk?" he suggests.
"A cousin walk?" I ask, confused. He chuckles in response.
"Yeah, you know, like on Thanksgiving when all the cousins go for a walk and come back stoned? A cousin walk," he explains, his face filled with amusement. But I'm still at a loss.
He laughs again and casually wraps an arm around my shoulder. "I have so much to teach you, young grasshopper."
As he directs us towards the first trail, I instinctively turn away. "This trail leads to Mrs. Anderson's yard. She's the sheriff's mother," I inform him.
His curiosity is piqued as he asks, "And the second trail?"
"It goes on for about a mile before looping back around," I reply.
"Perfect," he smiles at me, revealing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. With that, he removes his arm from my shoulder and we set off down the first trail.
As we walk along the trail, my heart begins to race with anticipation. I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. We find a secluded spot, hidden by tall trees, and he pulls out a joint from his pocket.
"Alright, here it is," He declares proudly.
Elijah fumbles with the lighter, trying to ignite the joint. After a few failed attempts, he finally succeeds, and we exchange excited glances as he takes a long puff and hands it to me.
Instantly, my throat itches, and I feel a burning sensation. Suppressing a cough, I force a smile, hoping Elijah doesn't notice my struggle. He, too, seems to be battling his own coughs, but we soldier on.
"Wow, this stuff is potent," I say, affecting an air of nonchalance, trying to sound like an experienced stoner.
Elijah nods, his voice slightly strained. "Yeah, definitely strong. But hey, that's what makes it exciting, right?"
We exchange knowing glances, acknowledging that we're both in over our heads. Despite my lack of experience, we continued puffing on the joint, reveling in the intoxicating effects for the first time.
Elijah leans against a tree and almost falls over. "Im sorry, Mr.Tree." He says and we both fall over laughing.
"I think we turned ourselves into laughing hyenas," I say and we giggle louder, scaring off a nearby squirrel who probably thinks we are on drugs. Wait we are. I laugh even more.
Minutes turn into what feels like hours as we stumble along the trail, our laughter occasionally punctuated by coughing from the joint.
Elijah finally breaks the silence, his voice cracking. "Okay, I can't keep this up. I have no idea what I'm doing. This is my first time smoking."
I let out a relieved laugh, my walls of pretense crumbling. "Thank goodness. It's my first time too."
"They say you never forget your first," he jokes, his playful tone breaking the tension. "But you could've at least bought me dinner first."
I laugh, grateful for his lightheartedness. "You have a point there. Consider it a rain check."
His smile widens, and the sunlight dances in his honey-colored eyes. I find myself momentarily captivated by his presence, my thoughts wandering to places they shouldn't. I quickly avert my gaze, feeling a mix of shock and shame flood over me. I have never been attracted to another man before. Did smoking pot just turn me gay?