Eli
The first few weeks of school passed in a blur of classes, basketball practice, and late-night conversations with Jonah. We fell into a routine—morning texts before school, lunchtime check-ins, evening calls that sometimes stretched until midnight. Each conversation brought us closer, each shared experience narrowing the distance between us.
But as the weeks turned into a month, I started to feel the strain. Senior year was demanding, with college applications, basketball games, and the constant pressure to make every moment count. Jonah, too, was increasingly busy with midterms, social obligations, and the demands of college life.
It was bound to happen, I guess—the first crack in the foundation we'd so carefully built.
It started with a missed call. I'd been at basketball practice, my phone on silent in my locker as I ran drills with my teammates. By the time I checked it, Jonah had called twice and left a voicemail.
Jonah: Hey, just calling to see how your day went. Call me when you get this.
Eli: Sorry, just saw this. At practice. Everything okay?
Jonah: Yeah, everything's fine. Just wanted to hear your voice.
Eli: I miss you too. How was your day?
Jonah: Long. Midterm prep is killing me. I have to study all weekend.
Eli: Bummer. I was hoping we could FaceTime tonight.
Jonah: I don't think I can. I have this study group thing...
Eli: Oh. Okay.
Jonah: Don't be mad. I'll make it up to you, I promise.
Eli: I'm not mad. Just disappointed.
Jonah: I know. Me too.
Eli: Well, I should go. Need to finish my homework before dinner.
Jonah: Eli, wait—
But I was already shutting down, my walls going up as the disappointment gave way to something else—something darker, more painful. It was irrational, I knew, to feel hurt by something so small, something beyond his control. But I couldn't help it. I missed him with an ache that was physical, a constant presence in my chest that nothing seemed to soothe.
Later that night, as I lay in bed scrolling through my social media feeds, I saw it—a picture of Jonah at some party, surrounded by people I didn't know, his arm around a girl I'd never seen before. They weren't doing anything incriminating, not really. Just smiling for the camera, their faces flushed from what looked like laughter or alcohol.
But it stung. More than it should have, more than I was willing to admit.
Eli: Busy studying, huh?
I hit send before I could second-guess myself, my finger hovering over the screen as I waited for his response.
Jonah: Eli? What are you talking about?
Eli: The party. The girl. Your arm around her.
Jonah: Oh my god. It's not what you think. It was Mark's birthday. We just went out for pizza. She's his girlfriend's roommate.
Eli: Right.
Jonah: Eli, please don't be like this. I told you I had to study. I did. For hours. Then Mark dragged me out for his birthday. It was like, an hour. Max.
Eli: You should've told me.
Jonah: I was going to. I swear. I just got back and was going to call you when I saw your message.
Eli: Whatever.
Jonah: Don't do that! Don't shut me out.
Eli: I'm not. I'm just... tired.
Jonah: Eli, please. Can we talk? FaceTime?
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the decline button. But something in his message—the desperation, the sincerity—made me relent. I hit the accept button, his face filling my screen a moment later. He looked worried, his brow furrowed, the lights of his dorm room casting shadows across his face.
"Hey," he said, his voice soft.
"Hey," I replied, my own voice coming out colder than I intended.
"Eli, please talk to me," he pleaded. "I hate this. I hate fighting with you."
"We're not fighting," I corrected, though it felt like we were. "I'm just... processing."
"Processing what?" he asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I went to a party with my roommate. It's not a crime."
"No," I agreed. "It's not. But it would've been nice to know. To be included."
"You're right," he admitted. "I should've told you. I'm sorry. It was spontaneous, and I was stressed about studying, and I just... I messed up. But Eli, nothing happened. She's a lesbian, for god's sake. We were talking about cognitive behavioral therapy for her anxiety."
I felt a pang of guilt. "She is?"
"Yes," he said, his expression softening. "She is. But that's not the point. The point is, I should've been honest with you from the start. I should've told you where I was going, who I was with."
"Yeah," I agreed, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. "You should've."
"I'm sorry," he said again, his eyes searching mine. "Can you forgive me?"
"Of course I can forgive you," I replied, my voice softer now. "It's just... hard, you know? Seeing you there, living this life I'm not a part of. It makes me feel... left behind."
"You're not left behind," he insisted, his voice earnest. "You're the most important part of my life. College is just... something I have to do. You're what I want."
"Yeah?"
"More than anything," he confirmed. "I miss you like crazy. Every day. Every moment. I wish you were here."
"I wish I was there too," I admitted, my heart aching with the truth of it.
We fell into a comfortable silence after that, the air between us cleared of the tension that had been building for days. I could see the relief in his eyes, the softening of his expression as he realized we were going to be okay.
"Eli?" he said after a moment, his voice lower now, huskier.
"Yeah?"
"I've been thinking about that picture you sent," he admitted, his eyes darkening with desire. "A lot."
My breath caught in my throat.
"Yes?"
"Of course yes!," he confirmed excitedly. "I was thinking about it tonight, actually. During the party. Wondering what you were doing, if you were thinking about me too."
"Always," I whispered, my body responding to the change in his tone. "I'm always thinking about you."
"Me too," he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm hard right now, just thinking about you."
"Jonah," I breathed, my heart starting to pound.
"Tell me what you're wearing," he commanded softly, and I felt a shiver run through me at the shift in his tone.
"T-shirt and boxers," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Take them off," he ordered, his eyes intense even through the screen.
My hands trembled slightly as I complied, pulling my t-shirt over my head before lying back against the pillows. The room was dark, the only light coming from my phone screen, casting a faint glow over my bare chest.
"Your turn," I said, my voice husky.
He smiled, a slow, predatory smile that made my stomach clench with desire. He set the phone down for a moment, and when he picked it up again, his shirt was off, revealing a lean, toned chest that I ached to touch.
"Better?" he asked, his eyes dark with desire.
"Much," I replied, my hands sliding down my stomach to the waistband of my boxers.
"Take them off," he said again, his voice low and demanding.
I complied, my hands shaking slightly as I slid the fabric down my hips, kicking them off onto the floor. I was completely exposed now, vulnerable in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming over my body. "I wish I was there."
"Me too," I breathed, my hands tracing the muscles of my stomach. "I'd touch you everywhere."
"Where?" he prompted, his voice husky.
"Everywhere," I repeated, my hands moving lower. "Your chest, your stomach, your..."
"Your turn," he interrupted, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you'd do."
I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'd start with your lips," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'd kiss you slow and deep, like that first time in the library. Then I'd move down, kissing your neck, your chest..."
As I spoke, I could see the effect my words were having on him, his breathing growing ragged, his eyes darkening with desire. It was intoxicating, this power I had over him, this ability to pleasure him from miles away.
"I'd take you in my mouth," I continued, my voice growing bolder as my confidence increased. "I'd taste you, feel you, make you forget everything but me."
"God, Eli," he breathed, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the fantasy. "Don't stop."
"I wouldn't," I promised, my hands moving lower still. "I'd make you come, Jonah. I'd make you forget all about college, all about distance, all about everything but us."
"Talk to me," he commanded, his eyes opening to meet mine. "Tell me what you're doing right now."
"I'm touching myself," I admitted, my voice husky with desire. "Thinking about you."
"Me too," he confessed, his eyes never leaving mine. "God, Eli, I'm so close."
"Come for me," I ordered, my voice firm now. "Come for me, Jonah."
His eyes widened slightly at the command, but he didn't hesitate. With a soft cry, he threw his head back, his body tensing as he found his release. I watched him, mesmerized by the beauty of his surrender, the vulnerability of his pleasure.
"Your turn," he said a moment later, his voice soft as he recovered. "Let me hear you."
I didn't need any further encouragement. With a soft cry of my own, I followed him over the edge, my body arching as waves of pleasure washed over me. When it was over, I lay there, breathless and sated, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Wow," he said after a moment, his voice soft. "Just... wow."
"Yeah," I agreed, a lazy smile spreading across my face. "Wow."
We lay there in silence for a while, just looking at each other, the air between us thick with the aftermath of our shared pleasure. It was intimate in a way I'd never experienced before, a connection that transcended the physical distance between us.
"I love you," he said suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
My breath caught in my throat. "What?"
"I love you," he repeated, his eyes serious now. "I know it's soon, I know it's crazy, but it's true. I love you, Eli."
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked them back, not wanting to seem overly emotional. "I love you too," I whispered, the words feeling right, true. "God, I love you too."
We talked for a while longer after that, our voices soft in the darkness, our hearts laid bare to each other across the miles that separated us. When we finally hung up, I felt a sense of peace settle over me, a certainty that whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.
As I drifted off to sleep, his last words echoed in my mind—a promise of things to come, a reminder of the connection we shared, a declaration of love that would sustain us through the days and weeks ahead.