Page 41 of Advice from a Sunflower

"I think we got off on the wrong foot the other night," I say, and my voice breaks with the mention of our failed dinner.

"Yeah, me too."

"Why don't we start over then? Maybe we can even find our way back to Eli and Mouse."

While I hate the nickname I've carried around here for my entire life, it sounds just as perfect as it always has paired next to his. Sweet nostalgia tugs at my throat and leaves me choking back tears. Maybe everything about The Hollow wasn't as bad as I've always thought.

"You think it's possible?"

I nod, allowing the smile I'm fighting to push its way through. "I do."

"All right, then," he says through tight lips that were fighting back a smile of his own. The back door slides open and the girls come running through it, Marnie in tow when he quietly adds, "but I'm still planning to devour you every chance I get."

"I didn't think you'd ever get this thing built," Marnie teases.

When Eli bends over to start pouring the bags of sand, she throws me two thumbs up. I pretend to itch my face with a middle finger before slicing open another bag.

Chapter 21

Lyla

Things are more bearable once Eli and I decide to try being friends. He’s still always in a gloomy mood with his brows pinched together in a scowl more often than not. But I’ve realized that he’s a huge part of Marnie’s life and avoiding him is nearly impossible when he’s constantly helping her with one thing or another. I’m still not sure what happened between her and Josh, though Eli seems privy to whatever information she’s holding back from me and he’s hellbent on making sure she and the girls never miss him. It’s like they have some strange pact to take care of each other, though they’re rarely seen in the same room. I find it extremely odd and a little off-putting given the fact that my relationship with Marnie has been severely one-sided since I left and she’s well aware of how things ended with our grumpy neighbor.

Today, Marnie made a casserole for him and his mom. When I questioned her about it, she just shrugged her shoulders and said, “I always make them dinner on Thursday nights.”

She had plans to take the girls to the dance class I bought them for Christmas, so I jumped on the opportunity to try to pick Eli’s brain and get more information about their friendship. Maybe he's the key to getting Marnie and the girls out of The Hollow.

I should have known that the moment I saw his grumpy face, I’d chicken out and turn to goo at his feet.

“How’s your mom doing?” I ask once he lets me inside, surveying the small living space for any sign of the woman in question. I notice then that the light under her bedroom door is on and I can hear the faint murmur of her TV.

“Fine. Taking it one day at a time.” He grabs the casserole dish from my arms and walks it to the kitchen, not bothering a look behind him to see if I’ll follow. He knows I will.

“Marnie actually made that,” I admit nervously, gesturing toward the dish he was sliding into the fridge. “I’m pretty hopeless in the kitchen. It’s usually just takeout or freezer meals for me, especially if I’m on a deadline. Though, I haven’t been on anything that tight in a while. In fact, I’ve barely written anything since I’ve been here…” I’m rambling like an idiot, wringing my hands together as he closes the fridge and leans against the counter across from me.

His face is blank, like he’s listening but refuses to allow me to see how my words might affect him. Or maybe they don’t affect him at all. Maybe he’s just being kind and riding this out until I leave and he can go back to whatever he was doing before I interrupted. Either way, I stop mid-sentence and nervously giggle, crossing my arms while I instinctually prepare for his malicious blow.

There’s a small island taking up most of the kitchen that wasn’t ever here before. He’s managed to position himself so it's acting as a barrier between us. Sometime during my rambling session, I leaned on it to support me from falling over and dying of embarrassment. It looks like I’ve done it to get closer to him though, and I’m not sure how to correct the position without looking like I'm recoiling and drawing more attention to my discomfort.

“You should write,” he finally speaks.

“What?”

“I remember how you used to get when you didn’t write for a long time. You should make time to write.”

He’s able to talk to me so easily, offering the perfect amount of words to keep me hooked and wanting more. I’m always too flattered when he says things like that. Things that suggest he remembers our past just as well as I do. That he cared about me as much as I did for him.

“Oh, yeah. You’re probably right.”

We’re both quiet for a few unbearable moments before he pushes his back off the counter and leans on the island the way I am, placing his face only a few inches from mine. I swallow past the thick ball in my throat while his pensive eyes roam over my face unapologetically. I’m still so taken aback by his confidence. At how easy it still is for him to get my heart racing and my mind spinning, while I remain so unremarkable in his eyes.

He hooks his finger under my chin, gently tugging my face closer. "Do you remember what I told you last time we were alone like this?" he rasps into my ear. His breath sends shivers down my spine.

I nod into his hand.

"I told you I was going to destroy you, Little Mouse. Just like you've destroyed me."

He's whispering, but his words reverberate through me as if he's just screamed them.

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