9. Erin
Chapter nine
Erin
I woke the next morning sprawled on the floor, shivering, my back aching, and head pounding.
That’s what I get for sleeping on the ground. And bawling my eyes out for no reason other than being dramatic.
I groaned as I sat up and arched my back, aiming to stretch out the kinks, then rotated my head from side to side to crack my neck.
Crossing my legs, I brought my elbow to rest on my knee, leaning my chin into the base of my palm. I stared at my bare mattress across the room, my eyes unfocused, my dream from the night front and center:
He was there again, the man from the first dream. His back faced me with his hands clasped behind himself, looking out over the surrounding mountain scape.
We stood atop a mountain range, seemingly at the highest point. The sun was setting, casting various shades of pinks, purples, and reds across the sky. A single beam of yellow shot through the middle, piercing its way through the horizon. It was breathtaking.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod.
“Who are you?” I asked, the curiosity getting to me.
“That is not of importance,” he responded flatly.
“Okay…then where are we? And why? Why are you here, again?”
The man turned to me, his expression blank. “I am here…to assess how you are progressing and…your abilities…What you have uncovered thus far…,” his eyes trailed the length of my body, as if searching for something. “As well as a message.” His amber eyes shot up, a fire blazed within them, burning a hole through me.
“You must be careful. There are things coming. Trust the light that finds you in the dark. But. Be wary of the darkness that appears as part of the light.”
I huffed. Cryptic much? “Okay, message received, mystery man. Can you tell me how I get my power, the electricity, lighting, or whatever, to work? Because, I got to be honest, I tried and it left me worse for wear.”
The slightest smirk played at the edges of his lips. “For that, you must dive inward. Look to the mirror and you will see, for there is so much more beyond the shallow depths at the entrance to your soul.”
And then he was gone.
As much as I didn’t want to go out and face Seth after having an emotional breakdown, I needed coffee in my system to get my ass in gear.
Upset over a text.
What am I, twelve?
And as I thought it through, especially if I took into consideration what Libby had said about them not dating, I was more than likely just reading into it way too much. Coffee didn’t automatically mean a date.
I shook my head.
I’m getting worked up again. Just mention it and ask about it.
Don’t make a big deal out of it.
I stood up and made my way over to my unpacked bag of clothes. I grabbed a T-shirt with one of my favorite bands plastered on the front of it, a pair of black leggings, my front-zip sports bra, and a pair of panties that had seen better days. With my clean clothes balled together under my arm, I padded across the hall to the bathroom to hop in the shower.
Erin, there are so many things going on that are far more important than suddenly having a little crush on Seth.
Things like, you know, figuring out the whole lightning power situation and why thirteen people are missing.
Seth came grumbling out of his room at the same time. His hair tousled, midnight blue eyes bleary, his stubble along his jawline slightly thicker than the night before. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice gravelly.
Talk about hot.
For fucks sake, stop it.
I swatted the thought away. “Morning,” I grumbled as I shifted my weight. “Hey, can we talk later? I want to explain about last night…and apologize.” I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, nervously waiting for his response.
He blinked, attempting to clear his still drooping eyes. “Uh, yeah. Yeah that’s fine. But I’m gonna head up to the coffee shop to meet up with Libby first. You want anything?”
At least he’s not hiding it.
I nodded. “Sure, just the usual. Maybe throw in one of their blueberry muffins too, please?”
Don’t say it, don’t say it.
“Tell Libby I said hi.” I gave Seth a tight-lipped smile, hoping he didn’t catch the bitchiness in my voice.
You dumbass. He’s going to realize you’re being weird.
Libby is a sweetheart. Slow your roll.
He nodded and trudged his way toward his pristine kitchen, grabbing his keys. My gaze trailed behind him as he went through his living room, slipped on his black and white sneakers, and lazily stepped out his front door. I stood in the bathroom entry, staring after him even when the door closed behind him.
“This is stupid.” I huffed and turned back toward Seth’s marble-covered bathroom. I slammed the powdery-white door shut behind me and stripped off my clothes from the day prior. I tossed them on the Carrara marble tiled floor and turned the water on in the shower to scorching hot. I wanted to feel the burn from it. Melt away these god-awful pangs of jealousy and bitchiness winding their way through my veins.
This isn’t me.
I grabbed the bottle of shampoo Seth had along the wall and squirted half the contents into my hand, then slathered it into my hair. I might’ve wanted to scrub away my mood, but I would still be petty and use more of his expensive shower products than necessary. The downside? I smelled like him—pine mixed with a hint of bourbon.
Home.
I jolted. “Home? Where the fucknuts did that come from?” I scrubbed my arms red in hopes of chasing that thought from my mind.
Giving up, I shut off the water and grabbed the towel off the hook outside the shower. I wrapped my hair on top of my head and walked over to the double vanity. I pulled out my toothbrush and scrubbed my teeth until my gums bled, spat, and stared myself down in the mirror.
“Erin. Calm your tits,” I steadied myself. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy and throwing a hissy fit.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. I met my reflection once again. This time analyzing.
Average chest, I’ve been a whopping C-cup since middle school. Still perky-ish.
Thank you, weight-training.
Since I hit my twenties, my hips have widened ever so slightly. In addition to all the workout routines, running, hiking, and just overall muscle tone I gained, I had developed curves over the years. I had a crescent moon tattoo resting on my left hip with stars mirroring on my right. A scar from when I had it pierced was showcased at my belly button. Below that, I had various tattoos covering both of my thighs, following the theme between my favorite television shows and movies with a pop of book characters. I was nerdy and obsessed with books. And still a mess and a half, even after spending a good fifteen-to-twenty minutes in a scalding hot shower.
Everything about me screamed average. And Seth was not. He was built like a freaking Greek God, that even dark and mysterious Josh couldn’t compare to. Seth was a genius, even though he hid it; under his carefree, borderline frat boy demeanor, he had a heart of gold. Long story short, he was out of my league. I never stood a chance. I scrunched my nose at myself displayed in the mirror—at the disappointment in how I looked and that I allowed it to bother me.
“Suck it up, Buttercup.”
I know what I look like and how I appear. I long ago accepted where I stood in society’s attractive scale. Why is it suddenly bothering me so much?
I unwrapped my hair and finished toweling off. I grabbed my bundle of clean clothes off the counter and threw them on. Scrounging around the under-sink cabinet, I found a dusty Onyx blow-dryer. I plugged it in and flipped it on high. The blasting air helped to drown out the thoughts running through my head—it was too loud to think.
After my hair was dried, I took one more long, disappointing look at myself in the mirror, then padded out into the hallway. I glanced down the hallway to Seth’s room, my shoulders slumping forward.
I tossed my dirty clothes into the guest room. Then, against my better judgment, headed toward Seth’s bedroom. Not entirely sure what drew me to it beyond pure curiosity and nosiness. Even though we shared his bed the other night, I hadn’t gotten a good look around his room. I’d only been in there twice the whole time he’d been in this place, both occasions having been in his room with him in it. Bedrooms are like a sacred spot…and there I was, snooping and invading that privacy.
No going back now, I guess.
I stepped over the threshold, taking in the full space. The fourteen-foot ceilings were reoccurring throughout the old-school-building-turned-residential home. Exposed light oak beams ran the full length of the room, angling upward, and meeting at a point in the center. The walls were painted a light cream. Three large bookcases stood flush against the far wall, finished to perfectly match the exposed beams overhead. Above them, an arched window spanned the width of the room.
His bed was positioned at the halfway point leading from where I stood in the entrance to his bedroom with one slate-grey side table nestled on either side. The oversized, shiplap headboard was painted in the same shade of grey. Seth’s almost-bleach white down-comforter, along with his favorite navy-blue throw, was rumpled in the center of his king-sized mattress. Pillows, naked and not a pillowcase in sight, were tossed randomly around the room. One barely hanging on his bed and two others sprawled on top of the blue-grey shaggy rug that took up a majority of the hardwood floor. It stopped just short of the lounge chairs and reading table that were positioned a few feet in front of the bookcase furthest to the left.
I padded over to his book collection, not having seen these ones before. Since he showcased a whole library out in the living room, I assumed that was all the books he owned. Boy, was my ass wrong. Going by the looks of it, there were at least another several hundred in here. I stared in awe. It was like a freaking dream. The only books I personally owned were a handful of signed special editions that Seth had gotten me a few years ago as a high school graduation present.
I scanned the shelves, memorizing the individual authors, titles, and the different spines. There were framed artworks scattered along the various shelves, each no bigger than a small sheet of paper. Some were fantasy scenes, others were animals or abstract pieces. Each one I had a feeling he had painted himself. One in particular caught my eye. I had to reach a few shelves above me, pushing up onto the tips of my toes. I leaned against the bookcase to keep my balance.
It was within my grasp when I heard the front door open. I lost my balance and fell backward, bringing half of the bookshelf down with me.
“Oof!”
Footsteps started toward Seth’s room.
No point in hiding the fact I was in here. He probably heard me.
I sighed and pushed myself up. I heard his footsteps stop at his bedroom entryway and turned to send him an apologetic smile.
Only…
It wasn’t Seth.