Page 97 of Change My Mind
The smell of vanilla gently pulled me out of my unexpected nap.
I hadn’t meant to come home and immediately fall back into bed. I especially hadn’t meant for that bed to be Eli’s. But my body had felt called to it, and I was out in minutes once I’d wrapped myself up in his duvet. I grabbed my glasses from where I put them on the bedside table and checked my phone. I’d been asleep for three hours.
It was a much-needed three hours of sleep, but it did now mean that I was on the back foot. I didn’t want to be the one to walk into a room with Eli already in it. But my stomach was rumbling and the flat smelled like cake, so I was going to have to firm it.
I shed my duvet cocoon and got out of bed, stopping in my tracks when I remembered that I was inEli’sroom.
Eli’s bedroom door either creaked open or it didn’t. There was no way of knowing which one it was going to do on anygiven day, and it didn’t do it often enough for us to remember to WD40 the hinges.
It hadn’t creaked for a while, so obviously, the one time Ineededit to be silent, it made the loudest sound known to man. There was no way Eli wasn’t going to know I had been in his room.
I let the door creak shut behind me, took a breath, and walked to the kitchen.
“Hey,” Eli said softly when he spotted me.
He was clearly wearing Jesse’s clothes. They were a similar height, but Jesse was broader, so the grey long-sleeved top he had on looked a tad too big, even with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The shorts were also on the shorter side, which did wonders for Eli’s thighs. His hair was an artful mess of brown-grey, with one strand flopping down onto his face. In other words, he looked like a rumpled wet dream.
“Hey,” I replied as I settled into one of the stools. “Are you okay?” I asked. He didn’t look as strung out as he had after his last panic attack in the summer. He actually looked quite well-rested. I should probably send Jesse a fruit basket as a thank you for taking care of him.
“Kind of,” he answered. He started pouring cake batter into two tins.
“Is this another Victoria Sponge?” I asked, knowing that I was putting off the conversation we needed to have, but I felt like we needed to warm up to it.
“Yeah.” He banged the tins against the counter once. “I used to make Mum one for her birthday every year, and because I hate them, I always made sure to do a few practice runs to make sure they were perfect. Her birthday is on Monday. So, we’re in the window.”
I smiled.
“What did you do with the practices?”
“Gave them to people who gave them to other people.Then, because I know you want to ask but are worried about striking a nerve, I’d meet Mum in a neutral space, have a brief face-to-face catch-up, give her the cake, and see her again the following year.”
“That’s a nice tradition. I mean, terrible circumstances, but a nice tradition. Our landlord loves Victoria Sponge, so you can spring one on her if you need to get rid of them.”
Eli laughed softly. “I made three yesterday. Are they not already drowning in cake?”
“No, people took all the leftovers they could fit in plastic containers on the way out. Not a single bit of food was wasted, you’ll be pleased to hear. So she will be very open to free cake.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Eli said with a smile as he put the cake tins in the oven and then went over to the fridge.
He pulled a massive bowl out and slid it onto the island between us. It was pasta. With pesto.
The same as the first meal he ever made me.
He pulled a fork out of the drawer, and I took it, immediately stabbing at the penne and collecting as much as I could on the tines. Now that food was in front of me, I was ravenous.
Eli watched me as I ate for a while. Which I should have found weird, but I was mostly just happy he was here.
“Okay, I officially feel weird just sitting here with you watching me eat,” I said when my stomach started to feel less mad at me. Eli laughed quietly and retrieved his own fork.
“Who would you trust to help you bury a body?” I asked as he started stabbing at the pasta.
Eli’s eyebrows drew together for a moment as he chewed while he thought about the answer.
“I think maybe Becky?” Eli said slowly once he had swallowed his mouthful. I snorted.
“Why?” I asked. We didn’t usually ask follow-ups, but I was interested to know the reasoning.
“She seems like she would be calm under pressure. It was a toss-up between her and Rachel, but I worry Rachel would try and analyse why I ended up with a body on my hands.”
