Page 19 of A Little Bit

Chapter Eighteen

Eli

Pulling my pants up, I take another perusal of Warren’s bedroom.

It’s my first time here, and it looks absolutely fucking crazy. There’s a very busy pink and green floral wallpaper all around the room, drawing your eye right to his mint colored velvet duvet, and a different floral pattern in the plush carpet below my naked feet.

It all kind of clashes. Or maybe it all goes. I can’t really tell, I just know that I don’t like it, and it doesn’t look like him at all.

“Who decorated your place? Because it wasn’t you.”

“My mother,” he answers blankly, pulling his shirt over his head.

Something has been off about him during this whole meet-up today. He came. He moaned. But he wasn’t there . I didn’t see that unleashing that usually happens. That small time when he’s with me and he lets go, unfurls whatever he locks away for everyone else.

His body felt everything—his mind was somewhere else. But I’m not gonna ask him what’s wrong. That’s not what we do—it’s not what we’re here for.

I roll my eyes while wandering over to his bed, flopping onto it as he continues to get dressed. “She’s really got you wrapped around her finger, huh?”

He shrugs, eyes cast to the floor. “Mother does a lot for this family. For me. The least I can do is let her pick my furniture.”

Turning on my side, I prop my head under my hand and stare at him. “Alright. It’s your place. But it’s ugly as fuck.”

He laughs softly, putting a half-smirk on his face. Butterflies flutter around in my stomach.

I immediately turn on my back to stare at the ceiling.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I think whatever I’ve been avoiding, it might be too late, because despite the scowl I’ve forced onto my face, I just want to smile.

All I can feel is the glow of making him laugh.

I tried to be more closed off. I am when I’m not around him.

I didn’t text him for a week after the moss shit, which was a blunder in the first place. Why would I think that was a good idea for someone you’re just fucking? Because that’s what this is. Just fucking. Well… almost fucking. Haven’t quite made it to that yet.

I even attempted to be flirty with Terrence . I know I kind of told him off the last time we interacted, but he didn’t seem to mind getting my attention again. And he was just there so… he would serve the purpose. Something to feel like the old, unfeeling me. The me who was happy to plunge into pretty much anyone I was attracted to without caring who I hurt.

But I fucking couldn’t. I had one semi-flirtatious conversation with him and immediately dipped. All I kept seeing was Warren in his parent’s cellar. His soft, earnest face illuminated by the light of the single dingy light bulb, turning the dark, dank room into someplace ethereal. Seeing that look in his eyes… the appreciation. The disbelief that anyone would do what I did for him. I fucking loved it. I got high off of it.

And I can’t do that. Not when she’s not here. Not when she can’t guide me.

I turn back to stare at him, watching his brow furrow as he tries to decide between which pair of the same forty-seven khaki pants to wear.

That glowy feeling surges stronger.

Goddamnit.

“Hey, you want to get something to eat tonight?” The words tumble out of me without my permission. The glowy feeling temporarily making me insane.

I gotta backpedal now, right? That’s what I should do. But I really don’t want to. What I really want is for him to say yes.

He turns to me, setting the khakis down and giving me that smile. The one people use when they’re about to let someone down easily. It’s like a grimace-smile.

He makes even that look so fucking handsome.

“I can’t,” he mutters.

“Of course. I’m just hungry, so I offered.”

“I would. I just have this… thing tonight. I promised I’d go.”

“Oh. A thing,” I say evenly. Completely unaffected. Completely .

He goes back to his closet, rifling through a bunch of hanging polo shirts, looking more like he’s trying to keep himself busy. “Yeah, Mother and Grandaddy set up this meeting with a girl.”

I sit up, my insides plummeting. Straight down to my feet. My intestines making a new home in my toes. “Like a date?” It comes out like a croak, which I hate. I plaster an insane smile on my face, something to hide what’s going on underneath.

He turns back to me, a true grimace on his face now. “I mean, I guess. But not really. I’m just getting to know her.”

My smile must be slipping because his brow furrows as he tosses the polo he picked aside and sighs, rubbing his temples. “No. It’s not like that. I have to go. And she’s sixteen. We’re just getting ice cream and talking.”

I rear my head back, blinking furiously. “Excuse me? Sixteen? They know how old you are, right?”

“I know.” He winces and glances off for a moment before his eyes return to mine. “I know. It’s—I don’t like it either. But it won’t be like that.”

“Okay. So your Mother and Grandaddy’s plan is just for you to hang out with this sixteen-year-old girl?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” he says, drawing out the word then turning away from me to rifle through his closet again. “I mean… yes, for now.”

“For now?”

He lets out another tired sigh, dropping his hands from the clothes in front of him. “Yes. They want me to get to know her because they—” He cuts himself off, shame radiating off of him, but he still won’t turn around. “They think she’d be a good match for the future.”

“And you’re cool with this?” I hear anger creeping into my voice, and as much as I want to keep the unaffected facade in place, it’s melting right off of me.

He spins toward me, a deathly glare pointed in my direction and poison in his voice. “Yeah, I’m fucking cool with this. This is my future. It was always going to happen. We’re just messing around, right? That’s what this is.”

Even though everything he says is true—exactly what we agreed upon—it still punches me right in the gut, making me want to double over to contain the pain. But I can’t show him that. So I school my expression to show nothing and pick up my jacket I threw on the floor when we were ripping each other’s clothes off. “Yeah. You’re right.” I abruptly turn away from him. “I should go and let you get dressed.”

I hear him let out a breath as I shrug my jacket on and when he speaks again, it’s a much softer tone. “Hey?—”

I cut him off, throwing my body closer to the exit and turning back to him, that insane smile back on my face. “Hey. Sailor. I’m cool. Really. I know what we are. You two have a good time. Well, not too much of a good time because she’s sixteen and that’s gross, but… you get it.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, his brows pulled down.

“So, I’ll see you around, okay? I’ll go out the back.”

He nods, and I don’t wait to see or hear anything else. Just walk out the door like I’m totally fine. Because I am.