Page 21 of Ominous: Part 1
Probably through the summer.I’m going to Bloor.I’m definitely going to Bloor.But I don’t see how it’ll be possible to move before term starts next fall, and part of me is terrified to leave my family.What if something happens again? What if I lose my mind and no one is there to find it?
But I want something bigger.
I want to be someone bigger.
The gravity of Eli’s question, beneath the noise of my own quiet ambition, suddenly sinks into my bones.
“You should sign a contract for a gym membership because you like the gym, not because you like an employee.”
He doesn’t even look up. “Fuck it, I’ll pay through August. I assume I’ll be in college then, although who’s to know?” He drops the pen, like a mic drop, then pushes the paper toward me, letting it curl over the edge.
I keep my eyes on the computer screen as I mentally do the math in my head. Eleven months at thirty dollars. “You’re sure?” I ask without looking at him.
“Hit me.”
I don’t mean to, but I smile at those words and I’m not even sure why. Then I charge his card, for the application fee and the pleasure of seeing me for the next year.
When I’m done, his receipt in his pocket, card back in his wallet, gripped loosely in his hand, I expect him to leave. I’m positive he had wrestling practice today, and I imagine it’s pretty brutal. He’s in impressive shape, and with the veins straining beneath his hands, even more prominent than usual, he has to be tired, right?
But he doesn’t leave. Instead, he says, “When are you off?” at the same time Fred or Frank rounds the counter, his back to the door as he spins to face us both and Eli pivots, one arm still on the counter. I glance at the computer screen and see his check-in.
Fred.His name isFred.
“You all good, Eden?” he asks, a blender cup in his massive hand, sweat dripping down his sun-lined face. He spares a single glare in Eli’s direction.
“Great,” I say, plastering on my customer-service smile.
Fred returns it, the glare gone as he focuses on my face. “I’ll be back later for the beds.” He jerks his chin, indicating the tanning booths in the back of the gym.
I nod, keeping my smile. The door chimes, Fred shoots one more glare to Eli, then walks out, and we both see the way his shirt is dampened down his spine from sweat.
“He loves me,” Eli mutters under his breath. “Anyway, what time do you get off?”
I glance at the time on the computer. It’s six now. “Two hours.”
“Great.” He pushes off the counter, walks by the computer, swipes a towel from the stack I folded, and saunters toward the weights, leaving me staring after him.
Near close,I head to the back of the gym with a towel and spray bottle in hand to clean up the tanning beds. I refuse to look at Eli, still here and by the weights, in conversation with a woman I know is training for a physique competition. I roll my eyes at his charm but lift my chin and breathe a little easier when I disappear down the hall to the tanning beds.
It’s quiet back here, the three rooms vacant, and I duck into the first two for a couple of minutes max, swiping at the glass over the bulbs, discarding sticker wrappers of different shapes people can put on their skin for the tan to go around it, like a strange, reverse tattoo. One is the outline of a Playboy bunny, and I smile a little as I toss it into the trash. If I had a sticker with innuendo, it’d probably be whips and chains or hands around a throat or something, at least based on my porn preferences.
My face grows hot, and I shake my head, rolling my eyes at myself.
I head to the last room, not bothering to flick on the lights because there’s enough to see by from the hallway. It smells like every stereotypical beach scent ever bottled in here, and the bed is still warm when I wipe my cloth over it, bending down so I can reach the far side. My shirt rises up, exposing my low back, cool air drifting along my skin. I can see the gleam of some kind of oil in a tiny spot at the top curve of the bed, and I’m irrationally annoyed I have to scrub at it harder after I spray the bottle to get it cleaned off. Oils aren’t supposed to be used in these beds.
My mind drifts to homework and calling Sebastian to pick me up and hoping he’s sober when he answers, to what I’m going to eat for dinner.
Then just as the oil gives way on the glass and I’m almost done,I feel something graze my lower back.
I jump, banging my head on the top lid of the tanning bed, stars popping in my eyes. I spin around, holding out the spray bottle and pulling the trigger when I see a looming figure. I hear a puff of diluted chemicals and water spritz into the air at the same time I open my mouth to scream but it comes out as a strangled shriek.
The bottle is pulled from my hand, dropped to the floor, then there’s a thud and the door is slammed closed, the light from the hall gone, extinguishing me in darkness.
I back up, but the bed hits my back, and all I’ve got fisted in my hand is the cleaning towel.
My heart stutters inside my chest. I’m drawing in a deep breath, ready to scream again, terror ice in my veins, when a familiar voice breaks through the darkness.
“What the hell was in that?”
