Page 240 of Ominous: Part 1
Her eyes track my movements, and I stand on the opposite side of the round table, glancing at her notebook. She abruptly closes it, flipping it over, too, as if it adds an extra layer of protection from me. She keeps her palm flat on the dark green notebook, her other hand still clenching the ledge of the table, big eyes on mine and her red lips pulled into the slightest frown. There’s a crease between her brow, and I want to kiss it and smooth it away.
“What’re you doing here?” Her voice is low, in accordance with unwritten library protocol. I like it. The quiet makes me feel like we’re the only two people in the world.
“I had practice.” I lift one shoulder in a shrug, my thighs pressing against the table. I don’t sit down or walk around toward her. “I called you.”
She glances at her checkered bag on the padded seat next to her chair, and I assume her phone is in there, although I can’t see it. “My ringer is off.”
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
Her cheeks flush pink in the orange glow of lights overhead from the chandeliers in the library. “I haven’t.” We both know it’s a lie, and I don’t bother calling her out on it.
I lift one hand to my choker, grazing the shallow cut beneath it.
She watches, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and I imagine she’s thinking of the photos I sent her last week.
She loops her hair behind her ears and drops both hands in her lap, under the table, leaving her notebook unguarded. “I just needed to catch up on work.”
I bring my hand to the back of the chair closest me, curling my fingers over it. “Yeah?”
She nods once. “This weekend I’m going to Wilmington.”
I think about Coach Pensky, the tournament, and anger flashes hot through me she has plans without me. “Why?”
“To visit my friend, from my old school.”
I think of Nic. The initials under her wrist. I press my fingers further into the seatback as I remember her words about her brother’s friend. I don’t know if it was him or not. “Who?”
“Amanda.”
I feel the slightest measure of relief, but I don’t release my grip on the chair. “Amanda.” I repeat the name like it’s foreign to me because she’s never mentioned it.
“Yeah.”
“And Nic?”
She rolls her eyes, looking up at the ceiling. “No.”
“Who was it, Sebastian’s friend, the one you told me about?” My voice sounds cold to my own ears, and I quickly debate the chances of me blowing off my match this weekend. But since Baca is out, and the team needs the win, and I hate to lose… the chances are slim.
But I can convince her to come. Later.
Eden, surprisingly, doesn’t visibly react to my question. Her eyes are still on the ceiling. “It wasn’t Nic,” she says, like she knows that’s what I want to know specifically.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t remember his name.”
I’m not sure if I believe her. “Are you lying?”
She drops her eyes to me, tilting her head and crossing her arms as she sits up straighter in her chair, resting her elbows on the table. “No.”
“How many guys have you obsessed over, before me?”
She narrows her eyes. “You tell me first. How many serious relationships, before me?”
I pull out the chair I’m holding onto and slowly sit, mimicking her posture, arms crossed and on the table as we stare off at one another. “You really want to know?”
She doesn’t look away. “Yes.”
