Page 51 of Creep
“It’s okay, Ess, I understand you have to be careful. I know you said not to call, but I needed to let you know I’ll be there in a few hours.”
“What the fuck do you mean you’ll be here in a few hours? I thought it would be a few days?” I trip over my own words as my brain kicks into overdrive. Anxiety creeps up my spine and my heart rate spikes. It’s too fucking soon, I’m not ready.
“Yeah, well, I caught an earlier flight. I need to be there for you, Essa. But it’s going to be okay. Once I land, I’m picking up a rental car and then I’ll be headed your way. I’ll wait until after dark so it will be easier for you to escape, okay? Just call me when he goes to bed and I’ll be there.”
I don’t utter a word the entire time she talks about the plan.
I’m fucking panicking.
I can’t do this.
I can’t.
“Essa.” That single word breaks my trance.
“Yes, I’m here.” I spit out, my words labored with my heavy breathing.
“Calm down. You’re okay. I’m here and we will get you out. We’ve been through worse, remember?”
Her comment about our childhood sobers me up enough for the fog to clear. Shaking my head, I clear my throat and stare forward. He’s still upstairs, but I need to cut this call short.
“Yes, you’re right.Textme when you’ve landed and we’ll figure everything out from there.” I emphasize for her to text me because I cannot handle the stress of another phone call while Vincent’s awake.
“Yes, Essa. Oh, I’ve got to go, my plane is boarding. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”
“I love you too, bye.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my pocket before going back inside. I’m not even hungry anymore after the phone call, my stomach too queasy, so I avoid the kitchen and head to the game room.
I find myself gravitating to the many books he has, so I randomly pull one from the shelf. I glance down at the title and it reads,A Clockwork Orange. The book itself is black with a mouth and flames above that, but the cover is interesting enough I keep it in my hand and move to the same chair Vin sat in as I danced for him.
I’ve never been much of a reader, but I’m hoping it might help to relax me and in turn, calm my nerves a bit. Besides, Ireallydon’t want to go upstairs to grab my iPod because Vincent’s up there and I donotneed to be around him right now. My poker face is shit unlike his and I can’t fuck this up.
I open the book and skim through the first few pages, already bored but I decide to stick with it. I read for a little while before my stomach rumbles.
I guess reading relaxed me enough to become hungry again.
I jump up from the chair and return it to its rightful spot on the shelf before going to find something to satiate my hunger.
* * *
I shuffle around the kitchen,finishing the last few things before dinner and then set the table. On the table, there is a roasted chicken with vegetables and a side salad. Nothing fancy, but a meal, nonetheless.
With the last finishing touches in place, I drag myself up the stairs to Vincent’s room. He played a “Me” today and locked himself in there. Once I reach his door, I lift my hand and get ready to knock when I hear the music he has playing through the speakers in his room.
“Crazy” by From Ashes To New is playing and I hesitate. I know this song by heart from having listened to it a million times, but the fact that this is the song he’s listening to only intensifies the guilt I feel.
Taking a deep breath, I rasp my knuckles on the door three times and take a step back as I wait for him to answer. After a few seconds, I hear the music pause and then the door swings open. Vincent stands on the threshold with his hand still wrapped around the doorknob. I look to his hand and see his knuckles are white with the intensity of his grip and I take an involuntary step back.
“I—” I clear my throat and steel my spine. “I came to tell you I made dinner and it’s done if you would like some.” I put on the best fucking poker face of my life and hope it pays off. He remains impassive as he stares at me, his eyes completely blank, not giving anything away.
The fucking mask is back. Why the hell does it bother me so much?
We stare at each other before his eyes dip down my body. His gaze travels over me before moving back up to my face and my eyes do the same.
He’s shirtless and his golden, tattooed abs glisten with sweat as if he was just working out. I don’t remember seeing any exercise equipment in his room, but it doesn’t mean he wasn’t doing exercises without any, I guess. His athletic shorts hang low on his hips and his feet are bare. The man is a fucking sex god and damn me if my pussy doesn’t know it.
I push my thighs together as subtly as I can before allowing my eyes to crawl back up to his face. He quirks his brow at me in silent questioning, but I ignore it.
“Are you coming down for dinner or…?” I ask, again.
