Page 149 of Ominous: Part 1
I don’t text my brother back, and I don’t let myself read Eli’s texts.
Sometimes, I’m scared to live inside my own head. Sometimes, I think things would be scarier if he lived in there too.
25
Eli
Three days pass.Eden doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t speak to me. And it’s pissing me off. It gets under my skin, and no one does that. Not Dom, even though he tries his best. Not Luna, even though I know she’s in love with me and uses Dom to try and drive the point home, much like Winslet did, except it wasn’t me she loved. Not even Dad, and he annoys me by sheer virtue of the fact he’s breathing.
I follow her in the halls. I even showed up at the gym last night and was happy when that hulking asshole who stalked her wasn’t there the entire three hours I was. She checked me in, scanned my keycard, and asked if I wanted a towel, like I didn’t mean anything to her.
That’s it.
That’s all.
I’m not even sure what part she’s pissed about most because she won’t talk to me. Does she know I did something with Luna? Luna wouldn’t tell her because her and Dom are still a thing, broken up or not. But maybe she just assumed? She’d be right, of course. But if I’d have known fucking around with Luna would’ve cost me this much, I never would have done it.
I’m going out of my mind thinking about her. I’ve texted her dozens of times. I’ve called. I’ve sent memes. I’ve stopped by her house, but I never seem to catch her without her parents or her brother there and I haven’t wanted to knock on the door unannounced just yet, in case I fuck things up there too.
This fight is real.
Probably the most time anyone has ignored me in my life, aside from my goddamn mother. I should let it go. Her go. I should count my losses. It doesn’t matter, anyway. She was right all along. This would never work.
I’m eighteen. I know, logically, we won’t end up together. It’s not how life is. We’re adolescents. Babies. We have entire lives. I’m not against dating so long as it serves its purpose. Sex, mainly. But I’ve never been under any illusion relationships last. Mine never have. I’ve never quite wanted them to.
But Tuesday night, I’m lying on my bed and texting her, wanting impossible things.
Me: I’m sorry. It was stupid. I was stupid. Forgive me.
As usual, no three dots. Nothing. But I stare and stare because tonight is the first full moon of October and it means fuck all to me, but it means something to her.
My screen dims. Annoyance and rage both twist in my gut.
Until… my phone brightens.
She’s typing.Finally.
I clench my phone tight in my hand, waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
The dots disappear. Then reappear.
Then… vanish.
Me: I know you have some things to say to me. Get them out, nightmare girl.
That doesn’t even warrant thehintof a response.
No dots. Nothing. I wait five minutes.
Then I throw my phone across the room. It hits the wall and clatters to the fucking floor.
Yesterday and today I’ve had to watch her prance around Trafalgar like she doesn’t even know who the fuck I am. I’ve listened to Dom’s bullshit about it, felt Janelle’s weighted stares, and Luna laughs like it’s the funniest thing.
I sit up, raking my hands through my hair as I let my eyes flutter closed, a smile forming on my lips. It’s okay.
