Page 66 of Recover

We made it into the building and up the few floors to make it to the door of my apartment. I rang the bell, and it buzzed from inside. Leo took a step back from me. We waited. No one came.

Just as I was about to ring again, the door swung open. Elliot’s bright eyes locked with mine, and sent shivers down my spine. It was as if Leo wasn’t even there, like he was a ghost witnessing this moment.

Elliot knew what we had done, and we didn’t have to say a word.

“We’re gonna do it,” he said, looking at me, ignoring Leo’s presence altogether. “Your roommate’s plan. First meeting is tomorrow.”

With that, he stepped aside so that we could enter. It felt weird—no, wrong—for Elliot Lancaster to be inviting me into my own apartment, my childhood home.

“Mom?” I called out, dropping my stuff onto a dining room chair, and shed my coat onto the back of it.

“She isn’t here,” Elliot said, and I blew out a sigh of relief. “I got back about ten minutes ago. I don’t know where she is.”

“She probably went to get lunch somewhere,” I replied, throwing myself on the sofa, and looked around. The place had changed. There were dirty glasses on the coffee table, a thin, but visible layer of dust on the windowsills. The shades were drawn. I pushed myself off the sofa and went to open them, letting in soft rays of natural light.

Something was up with my mom, and it didn’t start with me dragging Elliot and Leo into her personal space.

“Hey,” I heard Elliot say, and felt him grasping my shoulders. I turned around to face him, and found his face close to mine. “Can I steal you for a sec?”

Past his shoulders, I could see Leo watching us. Looking at me, he wiggled his eyebrows as he took my previous spot on the sofa, stretching out his legs. He reached for the remote, and turned on the TV.

“How high should I turn the volume?” he asked.

Shaking my head, I took Elliot’s hand and pulled him down the hall toward my room. Once we were inside, I turned around and shut the door behind me. It closed with a click.

“So,” Elliot mumbled, sliding his hands into his pockets as he walked around my bed. He stopped in front of the wall, where a poster of some celebrity I no longer recognized hung, smiling, leather-jacket and guitar. “This is … you.”

He seemed to nod his approval as his eyes moved to my purple bedspread. His shoes were off, and I caught him scrunching his toes against the shaggy gray carpet.

With one slow step in front of the other, he returned to face me. His eyes moved from my brows down to my own gaze, before slipping to the tip of my nose, and my lips. Without a word, his hands rose to cup my chin.

“Wait,” I said, just as his lips hung millimeters away from mine. I raised my hands, put them against his chest and gave it an awkward little pat. “Not right now. What is it you wanted to say?”

Elliot looked at me like I had just spoken in another language. He cocked his head to the side, and pouted.

“Nothing at all,” he murmured, his hand brushing some hair from my face. “I just wanted to … be with you.”

I raised an eyebrow. I knew where he was going with this, and—big surprise—I wasn’t in the mood to fuck. Again.

Before I could say anything, I heard the familiar jingle of keys and the squeak of door hinges. My mom was back.

“Shit,” I hissed, reaching for my bedroom door. “Of course, she comes now.”

I swung open the door to find myself face to face with her. She clutched her purse with one hand, coat still over her shoulders. It was like the first thing she wanted to do when she returned home was check my bedroom. She expected to find this.

“Out.”

Her eyes speared mine as she took a step back, and continued down the hall, out of sight.

“Fuck,” I muttered, letting out a harsh sigh. My fingers bunched up the hair at my scalp as I turned to face Elliot.

His lips touched mine. His hands were on my shoulders.

My back slammed the door shut.

“Elliot!” I snapped, pushing him off of me. He stumbled back, grinning, and then advanced toward me again. He came close enough for his hands to skim my waist before I shoved him off again.

“I’ll be quiet,” he purred, stepping so close to me that he had me pinned against the door with nothing but his torso and his voice, which felt and sounded like solid smoke, curling around my throat like a hot chain. “I promise. Kat, please. I need you.”