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Fated to the Grotesque

Page 12

by C.M. Hutton

“Actually,” she replied, “it’s been two. It’s Sunday.”

My stomach quivered with unease. Sunday? How? Thankfully, Mo didn’t see my expression as I had already placed my phone in the black basket perched on the back of the toilet’s water tank. Moe's concern suddenly made sense; the warmth bled from my face.

I didn't just miss one video call with her—I ghosted her for over an entire day.

A cold sweat broke out all over my body as I stripped out of short and tank PJ set I didn't recall dressing in and turned on the shower. While the water heated, I refocused on the voice chirping from my phone, realizing I hadn't heard a thing she said.

“What did you say? I'm sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of the shower against the tub.” I knew the excuse was weak, but it was the best I could come up with pre-coffee.

She sighed. “Enjoy your shower. We’ll talk later. But, please, Miko, take care of yourself. And I mean it, drink some water and rest. You don't have to start class until tomorrow and you've obviously caught some kind of cold if you slept for such a long time. Lamp.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see the gesture. “Lamp, too.” Picking up the phone, ever mindful of the angle so I didn’t accidentally fill her screen with a flash of nipple, I blew her a kiss. She winked, disconnecting the call.

My hand shook ran it through my unbound hair and took a seat on the closed toilet lid, hugging my middle. Flashes of hot and cold shivered over my skin, nausea turning in my belly.

I lost an entire day, and the last thing I remember is seeing Bane’s face.

I wanted to spend the day in bed just as Mo had suggested, but I had to open the library. Hopefully, no one noticed I had missed my first shift on Saturday. My nausea worsened as I thought about the dean’s passive aggressive manner, faux disappointment twisting his features as he fired me and evicted me from my apartment. Normally, I ate at least a little something for breakfast; as long as I had cereal in a few varieties, I wouldn’t go hungry. At the moment the thought of food raised stomach acid to the back of my throat.

Grabbing the backpack from the reading nook in my bedroom, I halted a couple of paces from the door. Backing up, I flipped on the light switch of the closet and stared at the emptied suitcases tucked inside beneath several of my warmer weather outfits neatly hung on the rod. “Nope, not right now.” I dropped my backpack to my elbow, removed my journal and started a new list on a fresh page.

What-the-Fuck List

~Luggage brought in (and unpacked) from Jeepie.

My fountain pen glided against the paper as I drew an arrow, then proceeded to jot another note.

*Add more to this list if there is downtime during shift.*

I shook my head, swapping my journal for my old, grey over-the-ear headphones, that I’d patterned with doodles of webs and bats, and put on an audiobook, then headed for the front door. The hairs at the back of my neck rose, causing me to slowly peer over my shoulder, the sensation prickling over my skin the very same as I experienced while talking to Mo. It’s likely just a ghost or spirit passing by; they love old buildings. Shaking it off, I exited my apartment, locking it from the inside before I closed the door.

My head jerked back as heat licked over my skin. Ugh, did I just willingly enter a five-hundred-degree oven? I don’t remember volunteering to be baked alive…. Oh, wait. It’s just summer.

I rubbed my clavicle, fast walking around the building to the front entrance of the library. Something snagged my gaze as I rounded the corner and squinted at my shoes. I bent at the waist, rubbing at a vivid green smear on the white toe. In fact, it was so bright it was as if I'd run through a field of fresh cut grass. Never taking my eyes from the stains, I kept moving, thoroughly distracted by my thoughts.

My head shot up, hand flying to the resulting pain pinching my neck muscles caused by my hasty movement, as a large hand gripped my shoulder from behind. Whirling around, it vaguely registered that the pressure from the hand remained, adjusting with my movement. I glared at the person leaning against the front doors of the library. I hadn't seen them, so completely absorbed in the stains on my shoes.

You're being ridiculous, Miko. They could've got those green marks yesterday walking to Dean Asshat’s office. It's not from climbing a beanstalk.

My glare landed just below the wide expanse of a masculine chest. I drew my gaze upward until it met a smiling, handsome visage. I took a step backward and his hand fell away, watching as he tucked that hand into his pocket and smiled even wider.

Something about him felt off. What does he have to be so happy about? I didn't usually trust overly smiley people, always wondering what their seemingly happy expressions hid behind toothy grins. Well, except for Monstera but she didn’t count.

“Did you hear what I just said?” he inquired, his voice akin to a rumbling purr. I blinked several times, taking in his curly blond hair, trimmed beard, and athletic build. Damn, his voice is deep. My lips tilted down farther as something taller than his head, by at least a foot, flickered behind his back but vanished before I even had a chance to debate the apparition.

I blew out of breath. “I haven't had any coffee yet. So, just tell me what you want,” I grumbled, my voice flat, and I took out my student ID, shivering as warm laughter coasted over me like a caress. Mentally crossing my fingers that the dean had indeed already added staff access to my credentials, I placed card to the electronic pad juxtaposed to the double doors.

As far as I recalled, this was one of the only recent modern modifications the university had made to this library, as there was a newer, bigger library on the opposite side of campus. That glass monstrosity had nothing on this feat of glorious Gothic architecture. I looked over at the man still leaning against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, oh so casually.

“I don't mind if you stare at me all day, gorgeous, but I have to complete a research assignment for the professor I TA for.

I nodded but said nothing as I opened the door and ushered him in with a wave of my hand. He brushed past me, whistling a jaunty, unfamiliar tune and I inhaled, hoping to catch a whiff of some cologne or bodywash. Nothing. My brows tunneled together.

“Do you need help finding anything? I can look it up for you on the computer. I'm new, but I'm sure it's not that complicated to navigate the system.”

He spun on his heel and hit me with another blinding smile as he chuckled. “Nope, I'm very familiar with these old books,” he elaborated, patting one of the nearby bookcases.

“Alright,” I responded, only to realize I’d not said it in even a remotely professional tone. Dammit, I need time to acclimate to this talking to people bullshit. “Um. I’m Miko, by the way. I'll just be at the front desk, getting acquainted with everything.”