Eli and I continued to meet in the library. That was our thing now. It actually felt pretty good having an 'our thing' with him. And, as the days passed, we only grew closer. I told Mitchell about him, of course, but he didn't seem to care very much. Mitchell didn't like people, which is where we connected. Eli liked people, he was very popular, but he didn't mind being around me, either. We found out we shared the same lunch period, and he sat alone with me, or in the library, if I wanted to go there. He even led the way to the door I exit the school from. Eli respected me a lot. And out of that respect, he told me he'd show up to my next game.
So as I sat in the band room, bass clarinet assembled, uniform being a work in progress, I found Eli. He was leaning against a door frame, watching, amused, as I struggled to zip my jacket up. I smiled sheepishly, waving. He rolled his eyes, strolling over to me.
"You look like you love assembling this uniform." He sarcastically stated, zipping me up. I blushed as his hand brushed my shoulder, and got a big, goofy smile on my face.
"Thanks.." I said, not making eye contact. He draped his arm over my shoulder, leading me back out to the main room, where my instrument was. Mitchell eyed us, giving me an evil eye. He didn't like when I drug people he didn't know into the band room. I hadn't done that since middle school, but he still gave me his 'warning eyes', as I called them, if so much as my mom walked in.
"I think your friend hates me," Eli whispered, nodding his head in the direction of Mitchell. You could tell Mitchell apart from all of us. He wore his black suit and top hat, also known as the drum major's uniform.
"Nah, he just doesn't like people coming into the band room. He's anxious, you get used to it." I explained, snorting.
"In that case, I'll see you in the bleachers, darling," Eli said, pushing the plume into my hat and then running off. I smiled, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. I jogged over to my seat at the far end of the right side of the third row. It was very important I remembered that. We were a big band, and sometimes people forgot things. I couldn't forget my seat and more importantly, I couldn't forget my dot. I always did mental checks about where I needed to start and finish my time I spent in the band room. Everything here, for me, was extremely precise.
"How many times do I have to ask you not to bring random people into the band room?" Mitchell asked, his arms crossed. He was giving me a strong glare, watching Eli, who was leaning on a post outside the band room, probably waiting for the line to die down (or, if he walked in with us, he would get in for free).
"But he isn't random. He's Eli!" I groaned, setting up my flip folder. We weren't playing halftime tonight, but we were doing pep tunes, so I moved the folder so that those were in the front. Meanwhile, Mitchell was giving me a hard stare.
"Don't bring random people into the band room," Mitchell repeated.
"He let himself in, so chill out, dude." I barked. Mitchell backed off, shaking his head. I wasn't sure what his deal was, but I wasn't liking it. He showed a special disliking for someone who I've known for years without knowing it, and that was annoying. I liked Eli, and I didn't see what the problem was if he wanted to see me before a game.
We lined up outside, getting in score. I was in the front, before the saxophones, and behind the clarinets. Eli was nowhere to be seen, probably already in the stadium. I shrugged it off, straightening my posture just a bit. I was the only member in my section, and I made sure to represent it well. There was something about being alone that made me feel important. No one to take my place. No one to compete with. It made me louder, stronger, and more confident.
I heard the familiar taps that made up our cadence, and suddenly, the line was moving. My feet naturally knew what to do, going on muscle memory. Every now and again, my eyes would glance down slightly, making sure I was in step. That was my only weakness with marching. I wasn't always in step.
As we passed the bleachers, I could see Eli, his eyes following me. He was blatantly ignoring the girl next to him. No, he was watching me. Soon we got to a spot where my eyes couldn't glance over to see him anymore, so I looked straight ahead. One by one we made our way into the bleachers. Eli was right in the row next to mine. He no had his whole body turned, staring directly at me, smiling. The girl next to him looked like she might have been annoyed, but he didn't seem to mind. It felt good to have someone who only wanted to pay attention to me. The back of my mind screamed that this wouldn't last, that he'd find a new girl to cling to, but I shook it off. I wanted to enjoy my fifteen minutes of fame.
Mitchell's hands flew up, and the crowd went silent. Hat's we're removed, and people all stood. He gave us four beats before we all started playing the Star Spangled Banner from memory. This was my favorite song, because it was the only one every single person would listen to. It was the only one everyone was quiet for. Also - I had a really cool part.
We remained standing, waiting for our team to enter the field so that we could begin our schools fight song. This moment in particular seemed to move so slow, because I was watching as each and every football player entered the field, and I played the fight song (also by memory), but I felt something weird. Eli was looking at me different. It was a good different, but I didn't understand what. I didn't mind, actually. It was the same feeling of being the only one in my section; the importance, the confidence. I loved this new feeling that surged through me every time he looked at me like I was the only girl in the world. I had only known the junior for a week and all I could really tell you is that he made me feel precious, he was selfless, and he was the smartest, most kind, most amazing person I'd ever meet. It was crazy to think this because I had only known him for such a short amount of time, but I was ready to embrace it.
Eli came to sit with me once we got our break. He had already bought me food: a pretzel with cheese, a Coke, a water, and a Hershey bar. He knew how sick I got if I didn't eat during a game, and he also knew that Coke was bad for my instrument. I liked that he just knew.
"So, how do we sound?" I asked, staring blankly at the game. From my peripheral, I could see Eli making a face to show that he was pondering his thoughts. Eli wasn't very good with using a magnificent vocabulary to describe something, at least not in the way I was good with it. He caught on to that, and always seemed to try and find a big word that would impress me.
"Peachy." He decided on. I cocked my head, this time looking at him. He smiled at me sheepishly, the way he did when we first met almost. It was as if he were saying "It was the best I could do."
"Alright, then. Peachy." I chuckled. I could almost swear I had never smiled this wide, not ever. Eli brought that out in me. A week with this idiot, that's all it took to make me notice how being around him improved me. He made me happy, smiley, giggley. It was as if I was walking on air.
"You guys really do sound great, though." He said in response, leaning his head on top of mine. From afar, we looked like a couple. But if you knew how platonic this really was, you'd only expect our relationships to be totally out there. Like, me and Eli could sit like this, his head resting on mine, and it didn't mean anything. Not in that moment, at least. I was sure that tonight, long after we parted ways, I would be able to feel his head still resting atop mine. I would still be able to feel his warmth, his friendship. I would feel everything he could be saying but didn't. But that was me. I over thought even the tiniest glances.
"I'm glad." That was all I was able to say. I think it was all I needed. Or maybe I was romanticizing this particular moment too much. Maybe this whole "he understands me while hardly knowing me" cliché is too overused and dried out. Who could tell? I wanted this moment to mean something to me.
"Your hair is soft." Eli whispered, stroking my hair slightly. A shiver traveled up my spine, and I began to shake. Without questioning it, he wrapped his jacket around me. I didn't offer it back. Instead, I nuzzled closer into him, probably not doing much for warmth, but still meaning to show effort.
Eli met me by the band room once the game was done. I tossed him my hoodie, still wanting to wear his (I bought mine in extra large, so it was big on both of us). He chuckled, slipped my hoodie on. Maybe I was wrong, but it looked like he sniffed in the smell of my hoodie. It didn't smell like much. Mostly, it was just stale cigarettes and pomegranate perfume. It was an odd mix, but it worked. His smelt purely of mint and cologne.
Eli liked to hold my hand as we walked. He said it was so guys wouldn't cat call me (and if they ever did, he said they could quote "catch these hands"), and also so that he could ensure nothing would happen to me because I would be right there with him. The last one was a stretch, but if it made him feel better, I wouldn't shut him down. Eli was protective, and I was okay with that. I was okay with everything he did.
So that's how we wound up walking hand in hand, right down the road. It was dark, and we were cold, but it was all alright. His mom thought he was with a friend at their house, and my mom knew exactly where we were. I keep thinking of the "I've known him for a week" thing, and I guess that thought is what makes this as "stereotypical teenage romance" as it is. Two people meet, instantly connected, crazy secret going on in the background. Or maybe Eli just held hands with all his friends, who knows? I know I didn't hold hands with Mitchell. That'd be really, really weird.
"Do you mind that I hold your hand?" Eli asked, looking at his feet. I thought about it, the question repeating in my brain.
"No, not really. Do you mind that my hands are always sweaty?" I asked him. Eli laughed, tossing his head back.
"I thought that was me, actually." He shyly admitted through his laughs. We both laughed at each other, shoulder-bumping one another as we walked. My house began to be visible, and we both slowed our pace, just a little bit. Both of us wanted just a little while longer. Just a little bit longer of being this super close best friendship thing that we were.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" I asked him, leaning my head up to look at him. He looked surprised that I'd even asked, but quickly nodded.
"Of course! We can hang out whenever you want!" I didn't know if he was just saying that to be nice, or if he really wanted to hang out whenever. I smiled anyway, knowing that we would hang out tomorrow and then go from there.
"Peachy." I whispered. I kissed his cheek softly, and then ran into my house, leaving him there. I smiled, but I didn't blush. I felt butterflies, but I didn't squeal. I just sighed, closing my eyes at first, and then opening them so that I could go make some tea.