One (One Universe)

the thought of which still reminds me of Sean Cooper, standing over me in the hallway last year.
    Being with Elias, really being with him, would be just as close as flying but wholly different. My stomach twists. I honestly can’t tell whether it’s from anticipation or apprehension. I try to remind myself how much I love being with him, how he makes my heart race when I so much as see him walking toward me in the hallway. I close my eyes and try to lose myself in the breathtaking burnt orange of the sky and the warmth of this boy. I try to tamp down the fear rising in my chest. I want, more than anything, to remember how he’s always made me feel — like I am absolutely perfect and exactly what he wants, just the way I am.
    I want to because I know he wants me, and I know I want him, and I don’t know what the big deal is. I want to, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t.
    I do know one thing for sure — I’ve never felt afraid with Elias, and I don’t want to start now.
    He holds my face in his hands, and his fingers push through my hair. When the wind blows against my face, I breathe in, trying to center myself.
    This is okay. This is perfect. This is Elias. He would never hurt me.
    His lips part mine, and I deepen the kiss, pushing my chest against his. I try to concentrate on how sweet he tastes and how he makes me feel — like I’m the only person in the whole world.
    But a second later, he moves his hand down my side and under my shirt, his palm hot against my skin, his thumb pressing into my ribs. He leans us back against the slope of the roof. There’s no breeze now; there’s only heat, engulfing my whole body.
    Completely overwhelming me.
    When his fingers move just under the waistband of my skirt and he kisses the hollow of my throat with insistent lips, I push my palms against his chest, just hard enough to get him to stop.
    “What — what are we doing?”
    He pulls back and crinkles his eyebrows, a slight smile on his face. “We’re watching the sunset.”
    “No, I mean…” I sit up. Now that I’m looking down at him, I feel stronger. “What do you want us to be doing?”
    My lip starts to tremble, and tears threaten to spill from my eyes. His expression softens, and he cradles my face in his hand, reaching up to wipe a single escaping tear with his thumb.
    “This is okay, right?” he asks and sits up next to me when more tears roll down my cheeks. “Mer? What’s up?”
    I tell him all about last year’s incident in the hallway. When I mention the bruises, he stiffens and shakes his head, glaring off into the distance. His grasp on my waist becomes protective, and he draws me close to his side, hugging me there until the tears stop.
    “But this is okay,” I finish, looking up into his waiting eyes. “This is different.”
    Elias gives me another gentle kiss. “This,” he says, “is just you and me and whatever both of us are one hundred percent comfortable with. And, it’s dinner.”
    Elias pulls cheddar cheese and crackers, some slices of tart green apples, and a loaf of bread out of the backpack. My shoulders relax, and I know that I’ll never worry about anything like that with Elias ever again.
    “Come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”
    I laugh at that because it was always cold. “You know I don’t eat any of that junk anyway,” I say, and he nods, leans forward, reaches into the bag.
    “Which is why I brought these.” He brandishes two jars, one with hot fudge and one with caramel topping. “These should at least make the apples edible for you.”
    “Oh, don’t underestimate me,” I say, reaching for the caramel. “Now I can eat the bread, too.”
    He laughs and makes himself an apple-and-cheddar sandwich, then leans back on the roof. I sit forward, seeing how high I can push the caramel-to-bread ratio, and we gaze at the deepening colors of the sunset together.
    “Basketball starts soon,” I say. Elias has already been in practice most school nights and half of Saturday, just enough time to force me to spend my free hours with Michael and Max and sometimes Leni and Daniel, too. Enough to keep me from being that girl who everyone thinks is obsessed with her boyfriend.
    He sighs. “Yeah. Weekend away games. Tournaments. And, uh…my dad set up some private coaching for me, too.”
    I can’t read his expression at that last one. “Are you hiding, like, some secondary One that makes you awesome at basketball? That you’re not telling me about?” I