9. VERENA GRAVENHURST
NINE
VERENA GRAVENHURST
Memories from last night play on a loop in my mind.
The movie, the laughter, Reed’s lips, so soft and plush as they gently press against mine.
A wide grin has been permanently etched onto my face from the moment I woke this morning, and it’s likely that it won’t be going away anytime soon.
I fell asleep in his hoodie, his scent curled around my body as my mind replayed our conversations.
Swinging open my bedroom door, I step out into the corridor, my plan to have a lazy Sunday already in motion.
My steps feel lighter. It’s like the fog that has been clouding my mind since arriving at Hollowcrest has been lifted, and I’m able to think clearly for the first time in days.
Strutting down the stairs, I see Archie at the front door, closing it behind him with a fresh bouquet of flowers from the garden in hand.
“Good morning, Archie.” I beam.
He stops in his tracks, shocked by my pleasant attitude. “Good morning to you, too, Miss Ren. I’m glad to see you’re in good spirits today.”
“It’s a beautiful day. I was thinking of taking a cup of tea up to the terrace to spend some time reading while the weather permits it.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, shall I fetch you a cup of tea?” he asks, ready to drop the flowers right then and there to cater to my needs.
“No, thank you, Arch, I’ve got it,” I chuckle, “have a good morning.” I wave and continue towards the kitchen.
He nods his head. “Have a good morning, Miss Ren.”
Pushing my way through the adjacent kitchen doors, I hum a little tune to myself, thinking nothing could possibly pull me out of this good mood that I’m in.
Stopping dead in my tracks, I mentally kick myself for being so naive about such a possibility. Standing on the opposite end of the kitchen island is the reason for my every mood swing since arriving at the manor. My smile falters.
“Well, well, someone is in a chipper mood now, aren’t we?” Loxen folds his arms across his chest, grinning like he’s caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.
“Was in a chipper mood. Past tense,” I clarify, moving further into the room.
Grabbing the kettle off the counter, I fill it with water by the large spout and place it on the stove, turning on the burners, illuminating its base with flames.
I grab a teacup from the cabinet and place it on the counter, dropping a tea bag to the bottom, and wait for the kettle to whistle.
My eyes flick to Loxen, who stands still as stone as I move about, a smug expression casting over his face.
He knows he gets under my skin from just being in the same room as me.
“You arrived home pretty late last night, so it seems,” Loxen prods. His body language is unreadable.
“Aw, were you waiting up for me?” I shoot back, giving him a phony smile. “I thought you had zero interest in my comings and goings.”
“Not so, little crow. I have plenty of interest in one of those two things.” His eyes darken. Asshole. I feel the heat rise up my neck, but I refuse to let him see how his words fluster me.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I snap, putting an end to his insolent commentary.
“Not particularly.” He shrugs, and I roll my eyes.
The kettle begins to whistle, but I make no move to remove it from the stove.
I watch Loxen, watching me from across the island, waiting for him to break eye contact first. My ears begin to ring from the piercing sound, and I fold under the pressure, turning off the burners, carefully grabbing the handle with a dish rag and pouring the water into my cup.
I lift it to my lips and blow lightly over the wafting steam, before taking a sip and softly humming to myself at the delicacy.
“No sugar?” Loxen breaks the silence, his voice curling around me like the steam from my cup.
“I prefer it to be bitter.” I take another sip, pretending to be bored with this conversation.
He chuckles and nods his head. “That checks out.”
I stay quiet, trying my best to enjoy my cup of tea despite his irritating presence.
He’s gone oddly quiet, though, and when I look back up at him, he’s glaring at my chest. I shift my eyes downward and realize I’m still wearing Reed’s hoodie.
It drapes over me, five sizes too large for my frame, hanging low upon my legs, completely swallowing the shorts I slipped on before leaving my room.
Loxen’s eyes roam over my bare thighs, over the hoodie, to the mess of my hair before meeting my stare again.
“Is it a regular occurrence for you to give it up so easily on a first date?” he taunts, and my calm facade cracks.
Tea snorts from my nose, the audacity of this man wreaking havoc on my patience.
“I beg your pardon?” I place my teacup on the counter a little rougher than I had intended; the porcelain sounding on the hard marble sends a vibration through my spine.
“Well, I happened to notice you’ve forgotten how to dress yourself in your own attire this morning.
One can only assume you’ve decided to trollop about, bedding some fool, and his sweatshirt is your grand prize.
” His smirk is malicious, like he intends to insult my character, wanting to hit me where it hurts.
I click my tongue, gearing up to go head-to-head with the devil himself on this fine morning. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Loxen, but I have to say, this sweatshirt sure does look good on me.” I twist my body to the side, letting him get a better view of me wearing it from every angle.
His smirk drops, and I can see the whites of his knuckles, gripping the countertop. My grin widens, knowing I’ve struck a nerve.
The antique phone hanging on the back kitchen wall begins to ring.
My eyes snap to his before the two of us lunge for it, bolting across the room.
He makes it to the phone before I do, and I curse myself for not being fast enough.
Loxen picks up the receiver as I reach, straining my arms in the air, trying to pry it from his greedy hands.
He holds it above my head, smiling, knowing I’ll need to jump to reach it, his arrogant attempt to humiliate me.
I take a step back and flip him the finger as he cradles the receiver against his ear and chuckles.
“Gravenhurst Residence,” he says while staring at me, amused.
I cross my arms, giving him a scowl. The playful look in his eyes quickly dims, and his grin vanishes so suddenly that it has me tilting my head in question.
His body stiffens, and anger replaces his leisurely demeanour, becoming guarded.
I strain my ears, trying to decipher the voice on the other end of the line, but it’s muffled.
He pulls the phone away from his ear and slams the receiver down on the base, abruptly hanging up on the caller.
He stares at me for a moment, giving me a look of disappointment.
“Well, who was it?” I try to steady my voice, but it wavers with the sudden shift of energy in the room.
He exhales a breath and shakes his head, glancing down at my hoodie once more, and I feel the need to wrap my arms around myself in an embrace to shield myself from the anger rippling off of him.
“No one important,” is his only response as he storms out of the room, leaving me confused as ever.