Page 10 of Bound to a Killer
We follow close behind, my eyes drifting over every detail of the foyer. The glossy wood floors echo underfoot, our steps bouncing between the tall, bare walls that do nothing to warm the space beneath the cold, fluorescent lighting overhead. Nothing ever looks good under fluorescent lights.
“This is it,” Kelsey says once we reach her room. She opens the door and steps aside so we can slip into the dim space.
“Woah,” Clara says, stepping onto the soft carpet, her headtilting as she takes it all in. I follow, my gaze sweeping over the room.
Several mismatched blankets are spread across the floor, surrounded by dozens of overstuffed pillows—long and slim, short and plump—piled into every corner. A small projector is perched on her dresser casting a movie selection onto a thin, sheer wall hanging, with twinkling lights scattered around the room like dazzling stars.
Shrugging off her bag, Clara dives into one of the longer L-shaped pillows, wrapping her arms around it with a delighted shriek. “Kelsey, oh my God, you even thought of a snack board? This is so cool.” She reaches toward the tray, which is full to the brim with licorice ropes, sour gummies, and a long row of chocolate-covered pretzels and biscuits. Grabbing a licorice stick, she waves it at me like she’s casting a spell. “Look, Aria, it’s your favorite.”
Slowly, I make my way over, tugging off the slippers from my feet and dropping my bag beside Clara’s. My eyes wander to the long, vintage-style mirrors lining the back wall, with Kelsey’s round bed sandwiched between them with even more pillows. Endless pillows. We could make a fort out of all this bedding. I sink down beside her, taking the twisted red candy from her hand. “Wow, this is…”
“Is it too much?” Kelsey asks, nibbling on the side of her thumb.
I’m quick to shake my head. “No, not at all. It’s really nice. I mean, just look at how we’re dressed.” My eyes flick down to the hem of my cami top, the butter-smooth fabric pinched between my fingers.
Clara reaches over for her bag, digging out an oversized, checkered, pink cosmetics case. “Yeah, and I came prepared.” She pulls out a compact manicure kit, pink nail polish, and several moisturizing sheet masks. “Oh! But first, let’s take photos before we touch anything else.”
A firm knock jolts me. Behind the door stands a tall, slender woman, lips pinched and posture straight, too perfect, her expression smooth but unreadable beneath the tight sweep of her deep red bun, a shade just like Kelsey’s. Her mom.
“Kelsey, honey, I know I said you could have your friends over, but please keep it down. I don’t want your father to overhear when I call him later,” she says. Her eyes drift over to me and Clara, her smile brightening just enough to be polite, but something about it doesn’t sit right. “Sorry for the intrusion, girls. I know it’s a Friday night, but if we can just keep it down a bit?—”
“We’ll be quieter, Mom,” Kelsey blurts, her thumb dropping from her mouth like it just scolded her. “We’re just about to put on a movie, so...”
Clara clears her throat. “Sorry, Mrs. Shaw. My tone can get a little loud when I’m excited and not paying attention.”
“Oh, honey, it’s Evalyn,” she responds. “I like to think I’m not that old, though compared to you girls, who isn’t?” Her small smile dims as her gaze shifts to the side. I follow it to the snack tray. Slender fingers begin to drum along the edge of the door, slow and pointed. “Kelsey, please be mindful of your consumption this late at night. Too much sugar isn’t good for your teeth, now or anytime, really. Maybe some popcorn is a better alternative if you’re watching a movie.”
Kelsey's neck, cheeks, and ears turn bright pink as she blinks back at her mother. “Yeah, of course. I forgot. I’ll bring some up here.”
“Sounds good, hun.” Her mom offers a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes before her hand slides down to grip the knob. “Well, goodnight, girls. Don’t stay up too late.”
The door clicks closed, and she’s gone. The air scratches thin, brittle and brief, until Clara breaks it, bringing back her signature lightheartedness that I’ve always appreciated about her.
“Oops, me and my big mouth.” She shuffles through her assortment of masks, handing one over to me and tossing the other on the blanket for Kelsey. “Come on, Kels,” she whispers comically exaggerated, drawing a hesitant breath out of Kelsey—almost a laugh. The discomfort gradually slips away as we fall into quiet conversation.
Hours pass painting our nails in shades of pink and plum, gossiping in hushed voices whileMean Girlsflickers in the background, its glow casting faint shadows across us. Once the pink polish dries on my hands, I wipe the partially crusted sheet mask from my face and offer to toss Kelsey’s and Clara’s away, but Kelsey springs up, insisting she’ll throw them out herself.
I settle back down, fluffing the pillows across the blanket-strewn floor while Clara plugs her phone into an outlet behind us.
“Hey,” she whispers, turning my way. She raises the blanket to her chin and curls onto her side. “I forgot to tell you earlier…Jayce asked me for your number today.”
“What?” I blurt, louder than I mean to. “Why? Why’d he ask you?”
She shrugs, her jaw stretching in a lazy yawn that spreads wide and slow, almost reptilian. “Obviously because he likes you. And he knows we’re friends, so maybe he just thought it’d be easier to ask me instead.”
My forehead puckers. I wonder if that was before or after what happened with Hunter in the hallway. I can’t really ask without bringing it up, and I don’t want to. Not to either of them. I don’t want them thinking I’m incapable of standing up for myself.
“Well, did you give it to him?”
“Don’t worry, I knew better,” she says with a wink. “I told him if he wanted it that badly, he should ask you for it himself.”
I ease into my own blanket, fingers loosening from the fluffy fibers. “Oh. Good.”
She and Kelsey exchange a few more words before falling quiet. The lamp behind us clicks off, darkening the room until the only light comes from the faint glimmer of string bulbs along the wall across from us.
I stare at them until they split in my vision, turning to a blur as I try to stifle the thoughts growing louder in the silence.
Tonight will end eventually. Like the tide. Like the slow churn of sun and moon. Tomorrow will still come, dragging all its problems behind it.
