Page 211 of Ominous: Part 1
My body seems to turn to putty with those words. I lean back into him, and he releases my throat, pulls his hand from my hips, and wraps both arms around me instead. He kisses the top of my crown of braids. “Really?” I ask, closing my eyes.
“You seem to think I wouldn’t do anything for you. Anythingtoyou. Whatever you want from me…I’m yours.”
This is getting very hard to view as something temporary, when we speak like this, which is all the time. “Did you really go to Idaho last year?” It comes out before I can stop it, like a buffer between us, or a reminder to me.
He doesn’t let me go, but instead, he squeezes me tighter, then he starts to walk us forward, taking a step that prompts mine, my eyes opening. We walk this way, together, to his room, and he kicks the door closed behind him, removing one arm from around me to lock it.
Guess we’re going to leave everyone downstairs after all.
He leans against the door, me still nestled in his arms. “You really want to talk about that right now?”
No. Yes. I don’t know. “I’m just tired of everyone knowing these things about you I don’t know.”
“They don’t fucking know me.You do.No one knows me like you.” I wouldn’t believe him, because I don’t trust him, but his tone isn’t sweet or charming or even sensual. He just sounds exhausted. I think about him being unresponsive downstairs, when Dominic was advancing on me. I think about the emptiness in his eyes when I asked about his mom. Then Sebastian’s words, about Eli being a psychopath.
What were you thinking in those moments, baby boy?
I don’t ask. Maybe I don’t want to know.
We stand there a moment, me leaning into him, him propped against the door, arms banded around my own, holding me up. The sounds of everyone downstairs are minimal, and I wonder if he’s worried about them breaking things, or doing anything stupid, but I guess, since it’s Eli, he’s probably not worried about much.
“Why did you cut him?” I decide to veer away from Idaho for a moment, and work on simpler truths. Things I witnessed myself.
“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you.”
A thrill zips through my veins, and I smile in the darkness of his room, only those blue fairy lights strung around his ceiling giving any glow to see by. “Heroic.”
He holds me tight enough to momentarily steal my breath. “That might be pushing it.”
My smile widens, but when I press back into him, I feel blood between my thighs, like a small clot has seeped through the tampon, hopefully against my pad.Fuck.
“I have to use the bathroom,” I say, mortification replacing any good feelings. I try to pull away from him, but he holds fast. “Eli. Seriously.” I don’t want to bleed all over his floor. I don’t care if blood doesn’t bother him. Blood from my vagina, on my boyfriend’s hardwoods, would botherme.
“Stop being skittish about natural things.”
“Look, I understand you are a boy ascended above the mortal planes of most teenage boys, but I still would rather handle this privately, okay?”
He laughs a little, which feels like a win, then he releases me, and I get away from him as fast as I can, making a beeline to my backpack on his bed. I reach inside the main compartment and pull out a smaller bag stuffed full of all the things I need, then I cross the room to his marble, rich boy bathroom.
“Don’t take too long or I’ll pick the lock,” he says at my back.
I don’t reply as I shut and lock the door behind me.
Thankfully, there’s no leak, although I curse myself for not bringing my entire bag in here. I could’ve changed out of this swimsuit and into my pajamas and a baggy shirt. Too late now without walking back out. After I’ve done what I need to, leaving the tampon out and going with just a pad, I wash my hands, zip up the bag of my supplies, and unlock and open the door.
Eli is sitting on his bed, his shoes pushed off into a neat row by his nightstand, and he’s got something I don’t recognize in his hand, not at first. Not until I get closer and put my little bag into the backpack, zipping it up and moving it to the end of his bed and taking a seat beside him, my feet dangling off the edge as I look at what he’s studying, a frown pulling on his lips.
An orange bottle.
He spins it around, my name on the label.Eden Arella Rain.
My heart skips a beat and I grab for it, trying to snatch my medicine from his hands, but his grip is strong, and he doesn’t let go. I don’t either.
“Give that back.”
He looks up through his lashes at me, his eyes dark in the glow of blue lights. “What is this?”
“Give it back.” I yank again, the pills rattling around but he doesn’t release his hold on the bottle.
