Page 129 of Ominous: Part 1
His lips pull into a lopsided smile. “You’re good for me. He likes those kinds of things.” Then without another word, he straightens and walks out, closing the door behind him, giving me space to change.
I do, pulling on the pants, tugging down my white shirt, but it only reaches just above the flare of my hips, clinging to my ribcage, showing off slivers of my torso, tanned from the sun.
Sighing, trying not to think about it, I cinch the belt around my waist before I rake my fingers through my hair one more time, and I can feel the ends grazing my low back.
But out of nowhere, all I can think about is Eli’s words, and the look in his eyes last night on the balcony, when I snapped at him, asking snidely if he wanted to talk about his mom, so I wouldn’t have to discuss my writing.
Some looks are angry, and some are livid, and others are wounded. I’ve seen them all, from Mom, Reece, Sebastian.Nic.
But the look Eli had for several long seconds was none of those things.
It was just… empty. It kind of terrified me.
“You’re good for me.”
I meet my gaze in the mirror, focusing on the slivers of green in my irises.
I really hope so.
* * *
“You two are matching.”Eli’s dad glances at our clothes. I smile politely, and it doesn’t quite feel like I’m faking it. Wearematching, and I know Eli had to see the clothes I was planning to wear before he walked out of the bathroom.
Now, we both have on beige pants, although mine are high-waisted and his are definitely not, and we’re both wearing white shirts. Mine reveals a lot more than his T-shirt, but even our shoes are nearly the same. He has white Chucks and I have white Keds. Which I may or may not have packed specifically because of his obsession with the color white.
“Yes, Dad, we are.” Eli’s words sound bored, and I almost laugh at the lack of respect in them, but I don’t, because it’s not the right thing to do. “Eden, this is my dad, Eric.” He gestures toward him, and I take the last step down from the spiral staircase, offering my hand and glancing at my black bracelets, careful they stay close to my wrist. “And Dad, this is Eden.”
I don’t think it escapes either mine or Eric’s notice Eli didn’t give me a title, but Eric doesn’t seem to care as he takes my hand, his own warm in both temperature and sentiment, squeezing my fingers gently.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, keeping the smile on my face as I study Eric’s eyes. They’re similar to Eli’s, but more hazel than pure green. He has a few lines around his face, but he’s still a good-looking man, with a head of thick, dark hair, only the faintest streaks of gray.
I see where Eli gets his looks from, although I wonder about his mom.
I glance at Eric’s hand as we let each other go and notice a pale patch of skin on his ring finger, no doubt where a wedding band was.When did he stop wearing it?
My heart beats steadily thanks to my medicine, and my knees don’t shake and sweat doesn’t blossom under my arms, but the pills do nothing for my mind. The anxiety is still there, and I have to slide my hands into my pockets to keep from fidgeting.
“You, too,” Eric says, and he sounds like he means it. He glances at Eli, standing at my side, saying nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see he has his arms crossed casually as he leans against the railing of the stairs.
I try and reach for something to say, but I’m kind of focused on Eric’s clothes. He’s in an olive dress shirt and gray pants, clearly work clothes. I don’t know what he does, but if I had to guess, I’d say lawyer or doctor or CEO of some tech company. Then again, maybe I’m just prejudiced against the rich. I’m absolutely positive he doesn’t clean houses, at the very least.
I grind my teeth together, thinking of my trailer, and wonder if Eric would be smiling at me if he knew my address.Stop judging him if you don’t want him to judge you.I try to hold onto that, but then all I can think about is maybe I should apologize for sleeping in his house when I didn’t ask him, and maybe I should assure him I didn’t have sex with his son—not technically—and we’re not going to wreck his house and—
“How long have you been at Trafalgar?”
I have to blink a few times to realize he’s asked me a question, and Eli must have told him we met at school. I wonder if he’s talked about me to his dad before, and the idea is so unfathomable, I almost laugh out loud at myself and how blindly optimistic I am when it comes to Eli.
Sometimes.
“I just started,” I tell him. “Well, with this school year.”
“How are you liking it?”
I feel Eli’s eyes on us. It’s hard to explain, but his entire presence just feels… cold.
“I like it,” I say slowly. “It’s interesting. The building, and my classes.”
Eric offers a small smile. “It is interesting,” he concedes. “Where are you applying to school for college?”
