Page 23 of Ominous: Part 1
“Tell me you don’t like it.” His voice is low, like it was in the hallway Tuesday morning when he asked,“What do you think?”
“Like what?” I want him to say it.Stalking.At the very least, I want to hear whathecalls it.
He still doesn’t look at me, but he runs his tongue over his top lip, and I wonder if he can taste his own sweat. “Feeling wanted.”
I blink in the night, warm air too hot on my skin.My stomach tightens, butterflies and tornado gone, something like humiliation there instead. “I don’t needyouto feel wanted.”
He turns his head toward me, expression blank. “You missed the point, didn’t you?”
“What’s the point? Thatyouwant me?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Is your stalking supposed to make me feel special? I can promise you Fred’s doesn’t.”
He looks amused with my retort. “Good thing I’m notFred.”
Before I can say anything to that, behind him, I think I see a shadow over the door of the gym.
I startle, dropping my arms, widening my eyes.
Slowly, he turns to face the door too, noticing my attention is off of him. I blink. It’s gone. There’s no shadow, just the yellow light above the door of the gym, lights on inside.
Nothing is there.
My face heats as Eli looks toward me again, tilting his head, like he’s waiting for an explanation of what I was so spooked by.
I don’t have one.
“I’m going to take you straight home,” he promises after a moment, then ducks down into his car.
It’s only after we’re both buckled in and he’s pushing his arms through his shirt, all of the muscles along his body flexing with the movement, that I see the bruises.
Along his chest, just above his abs.
They’re not terrible, faded really, but something about them makes me squirm in my seat. Even still, I don’t ask.
Probably wrestling.
The easiest explanation is often the simplest, I repeat it in my head, a phrase from Reece about conspiracy theories Sebastian believes in.Vaccines have trackers, man.I don’t think Sebreallybelieves it, but when he’s high, his logic is fucked.
Pushing my brother from mind, I brush my thumb over the rubber bracelets on my wrist and think about telling the story of those three letters beneath them to someone.
Sometimes the explanation is not simple at all.
After a quick drivewith only music between us, Eli pulls onto the dirt driveway, every car here but Sebastian’s, he says, “Who drives the Mazda?”
I shouldn’t be surprised he memorized all of my family’s vehicles, but it still jars me, and maybe not in the way it should. There is something odd about his behavior. Itisborderline stalking. But his observation is truly impressive.
“My brother.”
“Older?” Eli’s hand is on the shifter, and as usual, I can’t look away from it as he stares out the windshield. The same usual light is on in the living room, and down at the far end of the trailer, I see the flickering of Mom and Reece’s TV through their closed blinds.
“Yes. Twenty-one.”
Maybe he hears something in the way I say it, or maybe it’s because I haven’t reached for the door handle yet, but I feel him looking at me when he asks, “Are you two close?”
The answer is automatic. “Yes.” We’re as close as two people like us can be, I think. I’m closer to Sebastian than I am to anyone else in my life except for Mom. Amanda always felt like… a placeholder.
Eli makes a noise like a hum, and I wonder if he’s going to ask more about my brother, but instead he changes topics completely. “Do you work tomorrow?”
I feel his eyes on me as I shake my head. “No.”
