All the Little Truths (English Prep 3)

Right before I turned to dart down the stairs, Eric left me with, “Let me know when the nightmares come back, Maddie. I’ll be over when you need me, even though I know you’ll tell yourself that you don’t.”

Eric was wrong.

I did need him. He just didn’t need me.

The next few days were some of the worst I’d ever had at English Prep, and that was saying something, because nothing out of the ordinary happened. No one messed with me. No one tried to trip me in the cafeteria or called me a cum-dumpster as I walked by. Slut was somehow magically erased from the front of my locker too.

It was all very strange, but I wouldn’t let myself ask Eric if he had something to do with it. Eric was a no-look, no-talk, and no-think zone. Of course, two out of three of those were nearly impossible to abide by. I thought of him 24/7. I even dreamt of him last night when I’d managed to let myself sleep, too afraid he was right, that the nightmares would start coming back. And they did, except it was an entirely new nightmare.

This one was all about Eric. Instead of some creep sneaking into my room to feel me up, it was Eric. I enjoyed it, even waking up with a wetness between my legs, but somehow my dream flipped, and he’d left my room and started fucking my mom down the hall.

To say I was fucked up would be an understatement.

It was even more messed up that I told Eric to stay away from me and to stop worrying about me, yet I couldn’t stop searching for him every single time I walked into the lunchroom. Our eyes would meet briefly, and he’d hold my stare all while nonverbally asking, Change your mind? I’d quickly look away and pretend to go about my business.

For the entire time in history class, my neck prickled like little spiders were crawling all over. Whenever I’d brush my hair back behind my shoulder, I’d catch his lingering stare on me, causing my face to flush and my back to sweat.

I was exhausted when I came home from school, only to become even more exhausted as I tried to force myself to stop looking at his bedroom window, too afraid he’d be standing there like some bodyguard, but on the other hand, I was even more afraid he’d be gone, partying at the cabin.

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What I needed was for him to leave me alone so I could bask in self-pity and fear. But what I wanted was for him to keep watching me and making me feel the sort of jitters you get when you’re about to have your first kiss.

I was pathetic. I dug my heels in, wondering where that fierce, I-don’t-need-anyone girl I used to be was.

I groaned, kicking my uniform skirt halfway across the floor of my bedroom. I put my back to my window, ignoring the fact that I could hardly keep myself from glancing at his every three seconds. My mom was gone, go figure, probably trying to gain back her self-worth after my father had crumbled it a few days ago.

After flinging off my shirt, I stalked to my closet to put on something comfy. I had the urge to text some of my old friends, those who didn’t necessarily bully me after Christian shunned me from the entire school but also didn’t reach out. I wouldn’t mind wasting my time with them, even if they weren’t really friends to begin with. That was, if they even wanted to be seen with me.

Rolling my eyes, I opened my closet and flipped on the light, only to scream bloody murder. My hand flew to my chest. “What the hell, Eric!” I scrambled backwards, tripping over my shirt that I’d haphazardly thrown to the floor and landing on my ass with a whoosh.

His palms were on me within an instant, pulling me to my feet. His large hand swiped my messy hair out of my face. “You good?”

If I had any will power left in my body when it came to him, I would have ripped my arm out from his grasp. But instead of doing that, I stood there, in nothing but my underwear, bra, and knee-high tights, completely out of breath. “I…I..”

Eric raised his eyebrows as his lips tilted upward. I took a step back, and he dropped my arm.

“What are you doing in my closet, Eric?”

Eric darted his gaze away momentarily, which was unusual for him. He was typically searing me from the inside out, his dark and moody eyes always trained to mine like they were sucking my soul. “Not worrying about you, that’s what.”

I squinted and crossed my arms over my chest. Eric wet his lips and swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down. My skin flushed.

I quickly moved around his body like he had the bubonic plague and reached up to snatch the first shirt I could find, which was an old English Prep Cheerleader shirt. Good times. I threw it on quickly and snatched up a pair of jeans that were laying on the floor.

Eric watched my every move with a careful eye. He reached up and rubbed the back of his shoulder and sighed loudly. I darted my gaze down to his neck, which was becoming redder and redder as the seconds ticked by.

“I see your mom isn’t home again,” he stated, still standing half in my closet.

I squinted again, ignoring him. “What were you doing in my closet?”

“You told me not to worry about you.” His cheek twitched. “So this is me not worrying about you.”

What was he getting at? “Wha—”

Eric’s warm palm wrapped around my wrist as he pulled me into the closet quickly. He flipped around, putting my back to him and shut the door. The light switch was flipped off, and panic began to crowd me.

“Eric,” I said. “You know I don’t like the dark. Stop it.”