A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(27)

“I like your hair better like this,” he says, running his fingers over it. And then he smiles to himself and we walk toward his house.

As we tread the cracked cement pavers to Abe’s front door, a sudden nervousness starts to twist in my stomach. This is the first time I’ve gone home with a guy—technically. But I have other worries. Lots of them. Marceline’s story tries to come back into my consciousness, but I push it away. It’s ridiculous.

“Welcome home,” Abe says as he opens his front door. I meet his eyes, feeling a bit uncertain. His gaze is steady and intense. And after a long moment, I walk inside.

The living room is small, dark even in the afternoon light. It smells mildly of smoke, not cigarette, but campfire or wood stove. The furniture is old, the carpet is worn, but the house is tidy and well kept.

But I do notice one thing: There are no pictures—a complete contrast to Marceline’s cluttered living room. Abe’s walls are naked, even though there are rectangular outlines where I believe frames used to hang. Goose bumps rise on my arms as a chill runs over me. I’m about to ask Abe about the spaces when he tosses his house keys on a table next to the door, making a loud clang. “Drink?” he asks.

Abe’s demeanor is different, almost angry. Bitter.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, setting my purse on his couch. Abe pauses in the archway between his living room and kitchen, hanging his head.

“You don’t like it,” he says quietly. “You don’t want to be here.”

I’m a little taken aback by his statement. “What do you mean? I like it. I’m glad you asked me over.”

Abe doesn’t move at first, but then he straightens and leaves the room. I hate that he’s suddenly insecure, and I wonder if I’ve done something to cause it. The light of the refrigerator illuminates the small space in the kitchen, and then Abe comes back with two sodas.

He hands me one, and then motions to the couch. When we’re next to each other, Abe lounges back, stretching his legs under the coffee table. He sips from his drink, the silence going on too long.

“I grew up in this house,” he says finally. “Have been here all my life.”

I look sideways at him, the darkness in the room playing across his features, shading his eyes. “Does your dad live with you?” I ask.

“No. No, querida. It’s just me. And now you?” He turns to smile at me. “You’re welcome to spend the night.”

“That is very gracious.”

Abe sets his drink down, pausing as if lost in thought. “Elise,” he says. “You know I like you. I think you like me. Why are you dragging this out?”

I laugh nervously. “I’m not dragging anything out. We just met. I’m a cautious girl, I guess. Maybe you haven’t wooed me properly.”

“Interesting point.” He stretches his arms over his head, letting one fall behind me on the couch. “How about I take you to a party with me tonight? As my date. I’ll give you lots of reasons to be with me. I can be very convincing.”

“I’m sure.” Just then my phone vibrates in my purse next to me, and I grab it, happy for the distraction. It’s Lucy. My entire body is on pins and needles right now, the conversation making me uneasy.

“Missed your call,” Lucy says the minute I click the phone on. “What’s up?”

“Your car won’t start,” I say. “Is Dad there?”

She exhales. “That thing is such trash. Yeah, he just got back. Dad!” she yells off the line, and I wince. She could have at least covered the receiver.

When my father gets on the phone, I tell him that I’m at Abe’s and give him directions. He doesn’t sound entirely pleased that I’m at the house of a guy he already assumes I’m dating. But I’m relieved when he says he’s on his way.

When my father arrives and beeps the horn, Abe walks me to the door. He’s been silent during the entire ten-minute wait.

“Thanks for coming over,” he says quietly, as if still self-conscious. “Sorry it wasn’t more exciting.”

Abe seems so disappointed that I impulsively hug him, wrapping my arms around his waist as I rest my head on his chest. I feel him relax, his cheek on the top of my head. Sadness fills me, as if it’s spreading from Abe’s body to mine. But before I say anything, the car horn beeps again, and I pull away.

When I get outside, I tell my father that I was picking up Abe for lunch when Lucy’s car died. I don’t mention the fact that it’s in front of a psychic’s house, hoping he won’t notice. I’m not sure how I’ll explain it if he asks, because Abe’s right—I’m a terrible liar.

Oddly enough, Lucy’s car purrs to life the first time my dad turns the ignition. He shoots me a pointed look, as if asking me what I’ve really been up to all morning.

But just being close to Marceline’s house again has put me on edge. I remember our conversation, the fear and grief I felt. The story she told can’t be real. Because if I believe her, I have to believe that I’m not human. And I just can’t accept that.

After we get home, I take a nap—sleeping off the residual effects of the mint—and then shower for work. As I stand at the bathroom mirror with my hair twisted up in a towel, I notice the dark circles under my eyes. I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks, as if I’m . . . The thought sticks in my head, making tears gather. It’s as if I’m wearing away.