Page 152 of Ominous: Part 1
His target, always.
I’m not even sure why we hate each other so much. I’ve known him since I was five years old, and yet over the course of thirteen years, the loathing between us hasn’t waned even marginally.
“When were you going to ask us about your plans for next Thursday? That’s a school night.” His face is red, because his face is always red, and his jowls shake as he barks out his question. Over a week away, I have plenty of fucking time to ask, but right now, that’s not what I focus on.
Anger zips through me despite the fact I have tried very hard to play into Eli’s submission. If I can keep myself calm, this entire thing will pass over, but this is entirelyEli’sfault, and it only took me a second to put together Reece’s question and theplansI allegedly have for next Thursday.
He doesn’t think I’ll call him out on it.It’s almost like he doesn’t know me.
I smile a little as I blink at my stepdad. “What plans?”
Quiet seems to echo in the house. Reece looks from me, to Eli, then back again.
Eli, of course, breaks the silence. He laughs, an unsure sound. “You said you wanted to ride with me to my match, remember?” Sighing, as I drag my gaze to his, he keeps talking, glancing at the floor, ducking his smirk. “But you haven’t been sleeping well, you were probably tired when you said it—”
“You haven’t been sleeping well?” Mom’s voice is full of alarm as she carefully sets down plates on the table, staring at me with raised brows.
My heart thumps too fast in my chest. I think of the last time Iwasn’t sleeping well.
Blood on my wrists. The confrontation with Nic.
Mom’s face is pale.
Are you afraid of me, Mom?
“Anyway, if you don’t want to go,” Eli continues, maintaining his mask of politeness as I have a violent flashback of him twisting my hand behind my back. “It’s okay, I just thought I’d ask permission to pick you up while I’m here…” He trails off, lifting his eyes to smile at me, throwing this back in my face.
Say you want it.I can hear his voice in my head.Embarrass yourself a little, just for me.
Seconds pass. Reece is still staring at me, and for once, he seems perplexed.
Eli arches one dark brow.Give in.
Fuck you.
Before I have to say anything at all, Mom speaks, pulling back a chair and motioning to us all. “What time do you think you’d be back? Next Thursday?” she asks, and I want to tell her I don’t want to sit at the table, but I already see she made oatmeal topped with berries for me, in a bowl at my usual seat.
I glance at Eli as Reece heads to the table, sitting down and grabbing the orange juice to pour into his glass, a little more aggressive than orange juice really requires.
“No later than ten, Lucy.” The utmost respect is in Eli’s words even as he calls Mom by her first name, which is what she told him to do when they met on the porch. He gestures toward the table to me, wanting me to go first. I don’t want to move.
But Mom is seated, Reece is crunching his bacon, and both of them are watching us.
I take a deep breath and stride across the living room, but it’s too small not to pass close by Eli. I can smell him, and it’s enough to make my knees feel weak, made worse by the fact his fingers graze the back of my arm, so subtle I’m sure my parents didn’t see, before he follows me and takes a seat, too.
I spend the rest of the time we’re in my house slopping the oatmeal around and pretending to eat, but all I can think about is my heart racing in my chest and Eli’s elbow brushing mine every time he makes an excuse to reach for something in the center of the table, the orange juice more than once.
Despite my annoyance with him, I can’t help hold onto his preference for it.
Huh. Eli Addison enjoys orange juice.It’s endearing, even as I want to stab him with my fork.
“What thehellwas that?”I don’t wait for him to pull out of my driveway to ask.
He has his hand wrapped around the shifter, A/C mercifully blowing cold in his car, but before he puts the Infiniti in gear, he turns to look at me, leans in close, and just as I’m about to push him away, I realize he’s grabbing my seatbelt.
His mouth is too near mine, his arm brushing my chest, and I don’t breathe. I don’t want to smell cotton candy or the beach or any of his rich boy scents. I want him to give me room so I can think. With his body so close to mine, his eyes locked on my own, that is impossible.
After a moment, he slides the belt around me and clicks it into place.
