Page 126 of Ominous: Part 1
I can’t stop my smile. It hurts my face, and I have to clench my teeth to stifle a squeal. But I keep quiet, ignoring Mom’s text as I open up my Notes on my phone, continuing to type for my story. An idea came to me in the middle of the night, I think I’ve been up… three hours? It’s just now six, but I couldn’t sleep, the thoughts knocking against my brain for the story I’m working on.
I was surprised Eli wasn’t awake, but grateful he was finally getting rest.
In the relative darkness, I keep typing, trying to make my movements small, only flexing my fingers over my keyboard. I fill up page after page of brainstorming, and I don’t know why everything hits me this way sometimes, disturbing my rest, forcing me up, almost like I’m… frantic.
I want to get out of bed, truthfully, but another glance at Eli, so relaxed, his hair curling over the nape of his tanned neck…
I don’t get up.
I just type as another hour passes, and when I feel as if I’m running out of steam, and maybe I should try one more time to get more rest, I set my phone on the nightstand and roll onto my side, closing my eyes, plot ideas still scrolling behind my lids, but I try to keep still.
I realize I like it when Eli is so at ease. He rarely ever is.
I push up,turning my head and sweeping my gaze around the room which is brighter now. Dark wooden floors, black paneled walls, there’s a leather bench at the end of Eli’s enormous bed, and I battle down the cool, fluffy, blue comforter, searching for him. The sun is higher in the sky than it was. I catch the glimpse of it over the horizon, the pool down below the balcony, curtains parted.
I twist around and glance at the square black alarm clock, plain but elegant, like rich stuff tends to be. It’s just after nine in the morning.Shit, I slept for three more hours.
The bathroom door is open, exposing dark marble and light tile. Frowning, I rub a fist over my eye, mentally cataloging everything we did yesterday. It’s through a tipsy haze, mingled with writing on my phone all night. I did that, didn’t I?
I frown, glancing at my phone face down on the nightstand.
I know I didn’t drinktoo muchlast night.I can still recall, for example, the moment I admitted to him I was a virgin.
My face heats with the memory, and I realize I should take this opportunity to brush my teeth.
With his brush.
The flush extends to my neck, and when I run a hand through my hair, I see all of my bobby pins in a neat pile beside the alarm clock, something I missed initially.
How can a boy as alarmingly captivating as Eli be socarefulabout things? His room is neat, aside from the unmade bed. The TV is mounted on the wall, an electric fireplace built in beneath it. He has heavy, dark curtains, nothing on his nightstand aside from the alarm clock and my hair pins. No clothes on the floor. The door to his walk-in closet, a beige break in the black panel of his walls, is pulled shut. The dresser adjacent it has every drawer closed; nothing even sits on top of it.
I drag my hands down my face, thankful wherever he went, he closed the bedroom door after him. I snatch up my phone, flipping it over, wondering if I just dreamt all those notes I wrote.
I open up my texts and find one from Mom. A good morning message, sent a while ago, because she’s an early riser. I can’t remember if I saw it before. I send her a quick one back, check my notes, and scroll through a bunch of shit I presumably wrote in the middle of the night.Damn.Kind of proud of myself for that one.
I set my phone down, then swing my legs over the bed. I’m grateful I’m in shorts and Eli’s shirt, and I bring the fabric to my nose and inhale, catching the scent of coconut and the sea.
Smiling, I stand, about to take a step along the cold hardwood floors to his bathroom, when I hear a raised voice.
I freeze, my teeth clenched as I turn my head toward the door, trying not to breathe so I can listen.
It’s a low murmur, and I know someone is here when I catch a muffled response. My heart thunders in my chest and I see my bag on the sink in the bathroom and think about downing a pill. I’m not much for eavesdropping. I think the things people don’t want you to know should stay hidden, but…who is it?
He said his dad was away for work or whatever. Something.
Right.
It can’t be his dad.
But then again… it could be.
Just as I’m about to make a break for the bathroom, flip on the fan to drown out the noise so I can calm down, I hear something shatter.
I flinch, my pulse skipping beats. For one split second, I wonder if I imagined it. But no.No.
In my head, I see Eli’s chest. His faded bruises. And while I don’t think it’s his dad who does it to him, the possibility I could let him get hurt in this house is something I couldn’t live with.
I cross the floor on tiptoes, reaching for the sleek silver handle of his door and pulling down slowly. I can’t tell if the voices are on this floor or not, but I’m careful when I open up the door. It doesn’t creak like mine at the trailer, which I guess is a rich boy perk.
