Page 21 of Clever Eli
“You know I’ve never been good at making friends,” I tell him point blank. “You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had, actually, but I do know that those guys really are idiots, because even if you’re my only frame of reference, I believe you’re the best friend in existence. You’re the only friend I’ve ever needed. I’m sorry I can’t, like, share some wisdom or advice, but maybe you could talk about this with someone else? Someone who’s impartial but also in the NHL?”
He doesn’t react for a long moment, just stares at me with his mouth slightly open.
“I’m sorry I’m your only friend.” His words come out softer than I’ve ever heard him. “You deserve better from your only friend than what I’ve done, what I said when...” He trails off, his words losing steam quickly, but that’s okay.
Sadly, I know exactly what he’s talking about, and sadly, I can’t think of anything to say. I don’t want to placate him with empty words.
The moment turns awkward, which I hate, but I don’t have the tools to change that. The image of Tucker appears in my mind like divine intervention or some shit.
“Well... okay, I might have one other friend.”
“Yeah?” Lex asks, desperately grasping at the lifeline.
“I’ve become pretty close with Tucker.” At his confused look, I clarify. “Tucker Barclay. You know Tucker, you were in the same class at Luxton.”
“Yeah, I know Tuck,” he says softly. “We were on the same line of the hockey team. He’s a good player—was a great player actually. Even took Columbia to the Frozen Four.”
“Okay,” I say because I have no idea what the Frozen Four is. “He’s also the son of?—”
“Jim Barclay, I know.” He nods a few times. “Our teammates at Luxton used to say we only got to play on the first line because of our fathers.”
“Then maybe you could talk to him!” I say excitedly, but he hums noncommittally.
“How did you even become friends with him?” I don’t understand his sudden frown, but the thought of breaking the—really unbreakable—rules of the Turris strikes a new panic in my chest.
I didn’t go to college, and of course Lex knows that. I also never interacted with Tucker at school when Lex was there, and I sure as hell didn’t interact with him after Lex left.
You can do this, Eli. There’s a logical explanation, just figure it out.
My mental pep talk only delays me more, and Lex’s confused frown is getting deeper and deeper.
“Jim!” I shout unnecessarily when it occurs to me. “Jim, Tucker’s father has always let us watch your games at Barclay Arena from the owner’s suite with him. And Tucker has always been there. It’s not like I see him anywhere else.”Yup,nowhereelse. “But since Jim’s not really my type of adult, I always hang out with Tucker and we... talk. This last time he invited me to his brothers’ birthday party.”
I breathe in, trying to keep it steady, but god, that adrenaline spike issomething else.I can’t even begin to process how much I hate lying to Lex, but there’s no room to feel guilty about it when it comes to the Turris.
It doesn’t help, how long Lex takes to say something, or that weary sigh he expels, or how wet his eyes look when I finally look at him again.
“I’m sorry, Eli.”
“For what?” I ask, not understanding how he got to an apology.
“For how I acted when I left for Richester.”
“Oh.” It comes out soft, all the fight draining out of me.
Stupid.
So, so stupid.
Of all the times I’ve fantasized about patching things up with Lex about theincident, I never once figured out what I would say if he came out and apologized to start the damn conversation.
“You were fourteen, angel. And you were alreadymyangel by then. But those two years between us felt like an ocean back then, and I guess they were...back then.”
My breath gets stuck in the middle of my throat at how he says it. Does he mean...?
“I felt like I was holding you back, like you had all this potential. You were so funny, but you only ever hung out with me at school. You spent all your free time with me and I liked it like that. I really did, which was kind of the problem. I knew I’d have to leave someday, and I really did want to go to Richester because it’s where Vinny went, and because playing in the NHL alwayswas my dream—itstill ismy dream even if it’s a little fucked up right now—but I didn’t want to leave you. I knew I had to, though, and I knew you had feelings for me, just like I had for you no matter how hard I tried not to. But I knew we needed to grow up, and I knew we both deserved to make our dreams come true.”
“Had?” Seriously, of all the things he just said, my brain has to latch onto the simplest of all...
