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It hurts. All these people around me can be in touch with my parents, but I, their own daughter can’t talk to them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” Elijah starts, but I interrupt him.
“It’s the truth, Elijah. No need to be sorry. Okay, follow me so I can show you the guest house. Since everyone knows, I assume it’s ready for your use,” I talk fast and walk faster as I try to fight back the tears.
8
Elijah
I didn't grow up in wealth. My dad worked at two full-time jobs to feed us and keep our roof on top of our heads, but my childhood was full of love and laughter. Maybe our house wasn't something as big or fancy as Evangeline's, but it was a home I looked forward to returning to. We didn't have an army of helpers, but we made the best memories as we helped each other at home.
Now, as I follow Evangeline between shapely trimmed trees and mirror-like marbles under my feet, I feel even more grateful to all that I had when I was a kid. And I had that sudden urge to hold Evangeline's hand to take her somewhere else, anywhere that's not here.
I know I would envy this house if I just passed it by on the street, but after a short time with Evangeline, all I feel is pity, not for her, for the wealth that wasn't enough to make this building a home.
When we stop in front of the guest house, the view of the pool distracts me. It's designed like a seashell and calling for me to jump in. I've always been a swimmer, spending all of my summer holidays in California with my big brother made me a lover of the ocean.
“You can use the pool whenever you’d like. Feel at home,” Evangeline says behind me and unlocks the door of the guest house. “Wanna see inside?”
I nod and whistle when I step in. "This house is bigger than where I grew up," I say with a chuckle. The house's designed modernly with leather and steel. The color is monochrome from white to black. The television is almost covering the whole wall, the game console in front of it is like a dream.
I shake my head. It's ridiculous. This much wealth. And the sad thing is, there's no life in the place, no sign of existence like no one's ever been here, no one's ever played on that console or sat on the couch.
"I've never been here, so I don't really know where things are," she says, proving I'm right. "There must be a bell close to the door," she muses, looking around to find the said bell. "Ah, here. If you need anything, just hit it, and they'll bring it from the house. Or you can just come and help yourself. Try to feel at home," she says.
If even you can’t feel at home in here how will I? I think to myself but don’t say a word. I’ve already hurt her enough for someone she’s just met.
Instead, I just say, "Thank you."
“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. See you at dinner?” she asks hesitantly.
“When is dinner?”
She shrugs. “Whenever we want.”
“Okay. I’ll stop by after I take a shower,” I say and watch her as she walks back to the big house.
My first plan was to stay away from Evangeline Faye back in school, but the moment we were alone in my old truck, the moment her scent hits me like a fresh breath of air, the thought of staying away from her went out of the window. My body hungered for her. But in that short drive from school to here, and after seeing her in her own house with her shoulders slouched and seeing glimmer in her eyes dull even more, I know that’s impossible. Her pain fascinates me. I feel like I can write page after page just looking at her. A muse. I think that’s what she is for me. And damn if it doesn’t make my dick harder.
9
Eva
I told him I wouldn't pull him into my drama, but I kept telling him the truth about my pathetic life. Maybe I should just shut up, so I don't scare him away. Shaking my head, I get in the shower. And just like the snake that changes its skin, I set free the pretense I surround myself with as the water cascades over me. Getting out of the shower, I put on my PJs. I pretend too much when I'm out of this house, the make-up and "provocative" clothes are some kind of mask I put on. And when I'm home, I try to be as plain as I can, so I don't forget who I really am deep down. So I don't turn into the person everyone thinks of me.
After putting my hair into a messy bun, I pad the corridors and run when I hear the bell ring.
“I'm opening the door,” I yell in the house.
I'm panting when I open the door. Elijah stands in front of me, his eyebrows move up when he sees me.
“Hi,” I breathe out. “I ran to open the door,” I add, laughing softly.
But my laugh dies in my throat when I see him checking me out. His gaze is like a touch, I feel it as his eyes move from my legs to my chest. My chest heaves faster with the intensity of his gaze. My stomach flutters when he licks his lips. Pressing my thighs together, I try to subdue the arousal he causes in my body without even touching me. I wonder what it would feel like if he really touches me if he puts his hands or maybe even his lips on me. I gasp with the delicious image that appears in my mind. That gets his attention. He pulls his eyes away from my body to my eyes. I see the same fire in his eyes as he looks at me. It's hungry, intense, and like everything about him, arousing.
Clearing his throat, he smiles. “Will you let me inside?”
Why does this sound too dirty?
