Page 23 of The Cruelest Chaos
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“So, how do you know Natalie?”It’s as subtle as I can get to asking her what the fuck is wrong with her. And now that we’re sitting at my dining room table across from one another, mac-n-cheese in our bowls, it seems inappropriate to just ask it, like I did when we were about to fuck in the woods.
She shovels the orange noodles into her mouth, not looking at me. I’m not that hungry, because I’m not high. And my back is on fire, and pain suppresses my appetite. I’ve got a hoodie on, so she won’t see the wounds bleed through my t-shirt, and the extra fabric makes it hurt worse.
She hasn’t asked about it, even though she’s scratched the shit out of me.
Not like I would’ve told her anything.
I stare at her until she finally swallows and then looks up at me.
“From The Ark.” She goes back to eating, her eyes wandering around the dining room. I glance around, too, try to see it through her eyes. I’ve got no idea where or how she lives, but by anyone’s standards, this room is...opulent. Black walls. Fireplace with an abstract black and red painting above the mantel—gift from my mother. Light gold ceiling. Dark hardwoods and double doors that lead into the kitchen.
The curtains are drawn closed, because that’s how I like them.
“How do you afford all of this?” she asks, waving her fork around.
I arch a brow, but she doesn’t notice. She’s still shoveling food into her mouth.
I drop my fork and clasp my fingers together. “With money. Like most people.”
Mouth full, she looks up at me, and a grin spreads across her beautiful face. I catch sight of that red mark beneath her eye. It’s already fading. Maybe it was just a pimple or something. The marks I left on her from the forest are already gone.
I don’t really like that.
She swallows, hard, and I worry she’s going to choke but she just wipes the back of her hand over her mouth and bursts into a child-like laugh. “Yeah but where does your money come from?”
Strange way to phrase the question. Either way, I’m not answering it. “What’s The Ark?” I ask instead.
She glances down at her empty bowl, a small crease between her brow when she realizes she’s got no more noodles to shove into her mouth.
I roll my eyes and push my bowl across the table toward her.
She grins up at me and uses my fork to continue eating. She looks so happy, and so...young.
I think she isn’t going to answer me and I want to throttle her but she finally says, while chewing, “It’s a...school.” She shoves another forkful of noodles into her mouth, no embarrassment at the fact that she’s eating like she hasn’t in days.
“You’re nineteen.” And there’s no college called ‘The Ark’ in Alexandria.
Her pale face turns a light shade of pink. She sets down her fork, puts her hands in her lap. “It’s not an academic school.”
I don’t say anything, waiting for her to finish.
She’s looking down at the table. Then she sighs, shaking her head and meeting my gaze. I already know before she opens her mouth, she isn’t going to give me anything else. “Doesn’t matter. This is all over when I leave here, right?”
I give her a slight smile. I mean, probably. One-night stands aren’t exactly foreign to me, although I don’t usually cook two meals for them, so that’s new. But then again, the kind of sex she likes...I fucking love it. Not many people are into that. If she is, and I am, we could make this a regular thing.
“Do you want it to be over?” As I ask the question, I wonder how many one-night stands she’s had but I don’t really want to know so I don’t ask.
She shrugs, glances at her bowl. “Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?”
I can’t help but laugh. “If I had a girlfriend, why would I have fucked you?”
She frowns as she looks up at me. Her eyes never leave mine. I know she’s seen the tattoo on my face, but she never really looks at it. I like that. “Maybe you two had a fight. Shit happens.”
“God, Ella, what kind of relationships have you had?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “So you don’t have a girlfriend?”
