Page 181 of Ominous: Part 1
“Eli,get your ass on the bus.”
I shake my head, my bag slung over my shoulder as I pull my sunglasses down to cover my eyes from the bright afternoon sun. Coach Pensky has his hands parked on his hips, the rest of my teammates filing into the dark blue bus owned by Trafalgar, a castle topped with a disproportionate dragonfly painted along the side of it.
“I’m taking my car.” I glance over my shoulder, seeing Eden dancing in my passenger seat, the rest of the lot nearly empty save for the wrestler’s vehicles and Ms. Pensky’s minivan.
Coach Pensky narrows his eyes when I turn back to face him. I know he’s seen Eden, heard the hum of my car as it runs because the heat out here is stifling, even in the middle of October. I’ll roll the windows down when we drive, but for now, while I inform Coach I’m not taking the damn bus, I didn’t want Eden to overheat. She seems excited to go to this shit. She’s been talking a lot more than usual, and like this dancing, it’s… another side of her.
I like it.
“She was at the tournament.”
I don’t answer Coach’s words because it wasn’t a question. Just an observation, like he’s piecing things together.
He shakes his head after a moment, running his fingers through his thin brown hair, and I wonder if he’s thinking about his own wife on the bus right now, in the front seat, going over our unofficial weigh-ins from a few moments ago.
“Don’t let this distract you from tonight. And don’t get pulled over.” He drops his hands, turning his back to me, and without another word, he strides to the bus. I can hear him yelling at everyone to shut the fuck up when he climbs up the stairs, the doors closing after him.
Smiling to myself, I walk back to my car, toss my bag in the trunk, and slide into the driver’s seat.
“You good with the windows down?”
Eden is pulling her hair into a low bun, teasing some strands around her face as she smiles, not looking at me. When she’s done, she nods. “Yep.”
I turn off the A/C, roll down the windows, and steal a glance at her thick thighs beneath the gray and blue and black plaid of her skirt. Every time I see her in it, I think about last Friday, when I fucked her.For the very first time.We’ve exchanged notes in the hallways since then, I haven’t been able to keep my hands off of her, and we haven’t had the chance to fuck again, but it’s all I can think about.
And all. Damn. Day.All over again,I’ve watched her in this goddamn skirt. She reached behind her after Latin when we parted ways in the commons and swatted the fabric up, just enough for me to see where her wide, round ass meets her fucking thighs.
I grind my steering wheel hard, wishing I was fisting my dick instead. Itachesin my pants, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now. I settle for passing the bus as soon as we leave the gates of Trafalgar. In my head, I can hear Coach screaming.
“Is your dad coming?” Eden asks, glancing out the window as we merge onto the highway, and I pull off my sunglasses, tossing them in the pocket of the driver’s door.
Her words are fast, and she bounces her leg. I think she’s nervous.
“Can I connect my phone to your car?” She doesn’t wait for my first answer.
I roll up the windows just enough to stop the wind from ripping through every word I say as cars get over for me in the fast lane. “Yeah.” I scroll through the settings on my steering wheel. “Do it now.”
She plucks her phone from the console and is focused on it, like she’s tuning me out.
“Unfortunately, yes, Dad will be there.”
“Unfortunately?” Eden turns to look at me as music fills the speakers.
Some white guy rapping about a girl getting punished.I’ll punish the fuck out of you, baby girl.
I try to focus on what we’re talking about. “Well, the first time you met him, he ruined our weekend, so I can’t imagine you’re too happy with him right now.” Besides that, I can feel the ache in my chest from mine and Dad’s fight the night before last. It had been my fault, really. A ripped-up photograph, a dig at his work, a threat to expose him for being a child abuser, even though I know he isn’t. The accusations would ruin his career all the same, and I would never do it because of the disruption to my own life, but it’s fun to watch him squirm.
I feel slightly bad about it now, what I did and said to Dad. He has a bruise blossoming along his throat he might need to wear makeup to cover up at the office.
I smile to myself, thinking of it. Guess what I’m feeling isn’t remorse after all.
“He seems nice,” Eden says beside me, and my smile widens, knowing she wasn’t saying that when I snuck us out of the house last Saturday morning to get breakfast so she didn’t have to see him after he heard us fucking.
“Does he?”
“Is that your cryptic way of saying he isn’t?”
“Et facient ea.”Be careful. We went over it this morning with Ms. Romano, and I didn’t miss the look she gave me as we did, like a silent warning. She was my teacher last year, too, the only one at Trafalgar who teaches upperclassmen Latin. She has a basic working knowledge of Greek as well, something I found out when I muttered a swear word in the language the week before everything happened with Winslet. Sometimes I see my mother when I look at Ms. Romano, and I don’t know why, but it gives her a strange appeal for me.
