Page 24 of Ominous: Part 1
“I have a thing,” he says.
I rest my head against his seat as I turn to face him. “Okay?”
“A pre-season tournament. Wrestling. It’s at Trafalgar.”
I roll my eyes. “You should probably get some rest.”
“Do you not like taking hints or do you just enjoy me cutting myself open for you?” He smiles with the question, but there’s still an edge to the morbid words.
“I enjoy honesty.” Even as I say it, butterflies tumble in my stomach.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I get the distinct feeling I’m going to regret those words. “Honesty?” His eyes flick over my body, and I press my thighs together, hugging my bag to my chest, feeling the fabric on my ribcage where the slits of my shirt are, grateful he can’t see much of me. “You want me to behonest?”
“This sounds like a trap.”
“Answer the question.”
“It’s better than lying.”
“Not for everyone.” He furrows his brow, staring at me. “But for people like us, it’s a relief, isn’t it?”
People likeus. I don’t know what that means, and I don’t want to ask. It feels too much like he knows things he shouldn’t.
He lets it go, like he didn’t expect an answer.“Honestly.”He smirks as he says the word, and I want to get out of the car, but I don’t dare move, like I’m under scrutiny while he gives me what I asked for. “You fascinate me. I should’ve spoken to you on the first day of class, but you did not look like a girl who wanted to be spoken to.”He’s not wrong.“Andhonestly,”that word again, “I want you to come to my wrestling tournament because it would make it far less boring, and maybe you’d watch me win all fucking day and you’d be equally as fascinated with me as I am with you. Or, at least,closer.”
Closer.
My mouth goes dry. I don’t say anything about his spiel. I just clear my throat and ask, “Isn’t your family going to be there?”
I don’t want to meet his family. I don’t want to meetanyone’sfamily, but especially not his. He might be okay with the trailer we’re parked in front of right now. The fact I won’t be going off to Harvard or Yale or Brown—Bloor is decent and affordable, but it certainly isn’t Ivy League—but I don’t think his parents would feel the same and besides, we’re not even friends, are we? Meeting his parents would just be unnecessary and awkward and what if they saw my scars and what if…
“My dad is away for work.” He genuinely doesn’t seem to care, but I can’t help poking at it.
“Does he usually miss your matches?”
He smiles, and I don’t know why, but he answers, “No.”
But you didn’t mention your mom.Maybe too much honesty for tonight, so I don’t press. “This is a lame date.” I’m surprised at my own gall.
He laughs. It soundsreal,and I feel proud I made him do it. His white teeth flash and he sighs, resting his head back against his seat as he looks up at the headliner. “I don’t know why you’re being like this. We both know I’m going to kiss you soon.”
My mouth drops open. I’m grateful he isn’t looking at me as heat flushes up my neck, into my cheeks. I squeeze my bag tighter as my pulse drums too fast inside my chest. “You’re absolutely not.” Even as I say the words, my eyes drop to his mouth. His lips are just so full, it really, really isn’t fair.
They curve upward, and I stare at the column of his throat, the vein along his neck, his Adam’s apple, the stark ridge of his clavicle, and—
“I am, Eden.” He whispers the words, but still doesn’t look at me, and somehow, it makes this all the more… intense. Slowly though, he turns his head to stare right at me. “Please come tomorrow. It’s only for the best of the best.” He laughs a little, like he knows how arrogant those words sound. “I mean, really, you should be honored I’m inviting you.”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes at his teasing, shaking my head. “I don’t know.” A different response than my original. I’ve never been to a wrestling match, but if I don’t go, I’ll… what? Spend all day in my room, studying and reading and hoping Sebastian wakes up before noon so maybe we can get lunch together? Text Amanda just so I don’t feel like a complete loser?
A lapse of quiet. Then, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” He says it like law. Like it’s simple.Settled.
I don’t want to give in so easily. “I’ll have to see if I can—”
“You can. But find out if youwantto.” He glances at his phone in the center console before he opens his door. “I’ll text you tonight. Don’t ghost me.”
* * *
I hearSebastian heaving in the bathroom that separates our rooms. Staring at the ceiling fan on high overhead, covers pulled up to my chin, arms framing my head, bent at the elbow on my pillow, I think about going to check on him.
