Chapter 12: Eli

A/N: 28.04.29

What do you guys want to be when you grow up? Or what are you doing right now if you're already a full grown up?

I'd love to know!

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*Eli's pov*

The neighborhood was scary. I've never been to the southside of the city and I was glad that I haven't. The houses were ugly and musty, the gardens weren't mowed, there were drunken people in broad daylight and scary looking bars.

It looked like a place for criminals.

I inched closer towards Thomas, just in case someone tried to attack me. That way, I could push Thomas and make a run for if I needed to.

I glanced towards Thomas who looked completely calm. He even greeted a couple of people with that charming smile and lazy wave of his.

"You scared?" Thomas asked when we turned around the next block.

"No," I answered a bit too quickly. I was basically glued to him, my arms brushing against the muscles of his arms.

"You want me to hold your hand?" He grinned. I reddened, made a look of disgust, before looking away.

"No," I snapped. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, I never could. "Get your filthy hands away from me."

He started laughing, his head tilting slightly back and his nice, round shoulders shook. Thomas had a nice laugh, it wasn't too loud or imposing.

What was I thinking?

We finally arrived at his house. I scowled almost immediately. I thought it was an abandoned cabin at first, but nope, Thomas hopped onto the stairs and stopped at the front porch, looking over his shoulder.

"You coming or not?"

"People actually live here?" Was my first reaction. I tried to hide my disdain, but I was too baffled.

"Welcome to the real world," he smirked. To my surprise, he didn't seem offended or ashamed.

Now that I think about it, Thomas never seemed ashamed about being poor. He only got mad when I insulted him about it, but he didn't seem the least bit insecure. He walked around almost as if he were proud to wear nasty sneakers and dull clothes.

I secretly admired him for not caring what others thought. I wish I could do the same.

I slowly walked up the stairs, flinching when it squeaked under my weight, and followed him inside. I sucked in a tight breath.

The house was even uglier inside.

The floor was made out of wood and the walls were starting to peel off. There were a couple of stains here and there, and the furniture... The furniture hurt my eyes, it physically hurt me to look at furniture so ugly.

I loved lavishing items and decorations, and for me to look as something as horrid like this, was an eyesore.

"Impressive, isn't it?" The irony in Thomas's voice made me stiffen.

"I... Uh..."

I flinched when he laughed. Thomas gave me a gentle nudge.

"It's fine. It's not the fanciest place, but at least we have a roof," he winked. "Your bike is over there." He nodded towards my bicycle that was leaning against the wall.

"Oh."

"Do you want me to help you get it down the front stairs?" He asked.

"I can do it myself."

"You sure? You might break a nail."

I narrowed my eyes at him. Thomas was about to lift the bike, but I quickly blurted, "I'm thirsty. Give me something to drink." I cleared my voice, rephrasing. My eyes fell to the carpet. Ew, is that a stain? "Please, Thomas, can I have something to drink?"

I looked through my lashes and saw Thomas flinch. His olive skin turned slightly pink and he ran a quick hand through his disheveled hair before walking to what looked like the kitchen.

"Sure," he mumbled, putting the bike down.

I smiled to myself. I guess even Thomas couldn't resist the look. I learnt how to do it since I was little: lower your chin, bat your lashes and look through them to make yourself seem smaller, and speak in a quiet, little voice to make yourself seem helpless. Everyone felt like they needed to help you.

Daddy always bought me whatever I wanted when I gave him the look. He'd sigh, hand me his Mastercard, and one of the maids would take me on a shopping spree.

I didn't have to do with my Mom though, she'd kiss me on the cheek and give me money without asking. I wish she'd ask what the money was for sometimes, but at least I got the cash, even though they didn't care what I bought.

I sat down at the table while Thomas took out two cups from the cupboard. To be honest, I wasn't thirsty at all. I just wanted to spend a little more time with filthy rat.

My nose wrinkled when he gave me a cup. Barbie cups?

"What do you want?" He asked.

"Perrier."

He turned towards me. "You want what?"

I cleared my voice. "Sparkling water."

Thomas nodded.

"Tap water it is."

I twitched but he filled the cup in the sink and slid it towards me like a bartender. It stopped in front of me and I glared at it.

Would I die if I drank this?

I glanced towards Thomas who leaned against the sink, chugging down his cup. His olive skin glistened in the late afternoon light that slanted through the windows, and his Adam's apple bobbed when he raised the cup to his lips.

His environment was shabby. His clothes were ugly. But Thomas wasn't. He stood out in this rundown place in his own way.

Water dribbled down his lips and chin and my eyes followed as a small stream ran down his neck, sinking into his grey shirt; his grey shirt that hugged his muscles in all the right places.

When the cup was empty, Thomas pulled away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, exhaling loudly. Normally, I would have thought that sort of gesture was barbaric. But when Thomas did it, it was undeniably sexy.

I flinched at the sound of his voice and looked away, feeling my heart race inside my chest.

"Do you live here with your parents?" I asked.

"My sisters," he answered. My eyes flickered towards him, confused. "Dad's a drunkard who's never home and momma ran away. That answer your question?'

I frowned, but he gave me a shrug.

"It's been a while since they left, it's fine," he put the cup down and sat on the counter, his long, lean legs dangling. "What about you?"

"I'm an only child," I answered. "I live with my parents up on the Northside."

He whistled, impressed but unsurprised. "Fancy houses up there."

"Definitely better than the ones here."

I pressed my lips together. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

"So who pays for the food and water?" I quickly asked.

"Me and Elle," he said. "We work part-time jobs and our aunts send us money whenever she feels bad for us, our uncle when we're days away from getting kicked out for not paying rent on time."

"What kind of part-time job?"

"Is this some kind of interrogation?"

"Just making sure you don't kill for a living," I sighed.

"Scared I might kill you?" The chesire grin on his face made my stomach flutter. A wicked grin.

"I've already told Steven that if I don't send a message in an hour, he can call the police."

Thomas raised his brows. "Then I'll have to kill him first."

My eyes narrowed and he leaned back against his hands, the muscles in his arms popping when he did. "I work at the groceries. I won't be a millionaire tomorrow, but it's enough to help Elle."

"Your sister?"

Another nod.

"You're strong, aren't you?" I said.

"Flirting again?"

"It's a question," I huffed.

"I'm stronger than you if that's what you're asking," he studied my body. "But that's not saying much."

I wanted to throw my Barbie cup at him.

"My dad owns a wine company."

"My dad gets drunk on wine. We have a lot more in common than I thought."

I ignored him.

"And he needs someone to help him move carts of wine," I explained. "He's short on people. If you want better pay, I can ask him to hire you."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you flipped tables in the cafeteria like they were nothing." He looked at me, his intense gaze meeting mine. I straightened my shoulders and quickly added, "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for my daddy."

He raised his brows and his eyes read: 'daddy?'

Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned my dad... Was it too insensitive of me?

"You'll work on weekends and it probably pays triple than what you're earning right now."

But Thomas didn't look sold on the idea. He nibbled on his lower lip and I tried not to stare.

"I'll think about it," he finally said. "It makes me feel like shit working directly for the rich, but I need the money." He turned to the side and paused, as if a bad memory creeped into his mind. "Elle needs the money."

Then his eyes returned to mine and he smiled. When he did, I saw the mask he wore slide back on. One that hid the struggling, sad boy who had too much stress and worry for a teenager, replacing it with a stronger one that showed not a trace of fear or fatigue. A mask was still a mask.

"Good," I said. "We should exchange numbers, then."

His grin widened. "Definitely flirting."

He hopped off the counter and I handed him my phone. His rough hands brushed against mine, a tingling sensation jolting up my arm when our skins touched. He didn't seem to notice though, and sent himself a text so that he could save mine into his.

"I should get going before it's late. My grandparents are going to worry, and so will Steven."

I knew that it wasn't necessary to mention Steven, but I liked how Thomas's eyes would always flare whenever I did.

Jealous boys were hot, what can I say?

Thomas helped me carry my bike down the front stairs. He looked at me, his eyes lingering for a second too long, before looking away.

"Go straight home and don't stop until you're closer to the city center. You reek of money and that isn't a good sign in my neighborhood." He paused, then glanced towards me. "Text me when you get home."

"Why?"

"So I know that you made it there safe, genius." He laughed almost as if he couldn't believe what he was saying himself.

Thomas looked like he wanted to say something else, but seemed to have changed his mind last minute.

Though, I did notice him staring at my lips before heading back to the porch.

"See you around, rich snob," he said with a lazy wave. I decided to get revenge for when he whispered into my ear.

I smiled, but only because his back was turned towards me. "Bye, Thomas."

And I pedaled down the road.

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A/N: Please don't forget to leave a vote 💫❣