Two Books in One - Ominous Love and Paradox - The Angels Are Here (2 page)

The phone rings and as I dash down the hall to answer it, I stumble over my bag. “H … hello,” I say, nearly dropping the handset.

“Eloise, did you just get home?” asks my mother, suspiciously.

“I tripped over my handbag,” I say, ignoring her question. “Are you at Nanna and Pop's already?”

“Yes, we just arrived. How did your job at the pet shop go?”

“Great. I had my trial today and I start on Monday.”

“That's wonderful, love, but if it doesn't work out, let me know and I'll organise a plane ticket for you to join us.”

I sigh. “Stop worrying, Mum. I'll be fine.”

“Well, Dad and I
do
worry. We don't like you being on your own. Now, make sure you lock the doors and windows.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mum.”

“Okay, I have to go now, but I'll call tomorrow. Goodbye, honey.”

“Bye.” I hang up and leap in the air. “Yippee. I'm free for two glorious weeks. Now, I can have Brooke and Ruby over to stay. We can watch movies and play with our iPads all night long.” I skip to the kitchen and fill Matilda's bowl with cat mince. My stomach rumbles and I check the fridge for something to eat. Mm, Mum's cooked my favourite dinner—beef curry and rice. After warming it in the microwave, I sit at the kitchen table and ponder on the strange things that happened to me today.
I might be lucky to be alive, but it’s no thanks to Tom. If he hadn’t turned weird on me, I would’ve let him drive me home.

Shaking my head, I pick up my empty plate and take it to the sink. No wonder my parents worry so much. After tonight, I understand why, but if I tell them what happened, not only will they ban me from seeing Tom, they’ll have me on the next flight to Perth. Anyway, I'm so over Tom. He’s turned into a total ass.

I take off to my bedroom to turn on my laptop. Tom's bound to have sent an email. Shoot.
The server is down. No internet. Oh, well, maybe that's a good thing because I'm too tired to chat to my friends after my long day, and I'd only send Tom a nasty message. What a rat bag, and to think I liked him. Yawning, I kick my shoes off and take my stretchy animal-print pyjamas out of my drawer. As I walk towards the door to have a shower, a flash of lightning illuminates my room. Matilda bolts past my legs and stares at me, her fur standing on end. When a loud crack of thunder rattles the house, she scurries under the bed.

I dash to the window and peer out. The fog has lifted and there's an amazing electrical storm flickering and zigzagging through the clouds. A lightning bolt flashes above the shed, illuminating the garden. Holy crap! Did I just see the shape of a man underneath the gum tree next to the house? Shoot. He seemed to be staring at me. Is someone stalking me?

Chewing my knuckle, I stare out, but it's too dark to see anything. Thunder roars above the house again, shaking the windowpane. Dropping my PJ's on the rug, I wait for the next surge of lightning, but when it hits, there's no one there. The shape I saw was too tall to be Tom, so it couldn't be him. Then I remember the twig breaking in the front garden and a little shiver runs down my spine. Too creepy. My heart thumping against my ribs, I press my forehead against the windowpane and look down the side of the house. It’s too dark to see anything and I’m hoping the shape was just my imagination, but what if there’s a serial killer hiding in the bushes? Shuddering, I draw the curtains.

Chapter Two

Jeez, I never thought I'd miss my parents on my first night alone. What a big baby I am, and now I'm imagining strange men in our garden like I did when I was little. A fallen branch suddenly crashes against the tin roof and rolls down the side of the house. I jerk with fright. Crik
ey. The storm is getting worse.

Lightning flares outside the window and a cool draft whistles through a small crack in the ceiling. Shivering, I pull my clothes off and toss them in a heap on the carpet. I wish Mum and Dad would sell this rickety old house and move to a safer one. I can't wait to get under my doo
na just to be warm again. The light flickers off, then back on. Crap. I better have a shower before the power goes off. Relying on electric pumps and rainwater is a pain when storms cause power failures, especially when you can’t flush the loo. Gross.

Grabbing my pyjamas, I dash to the bathroom and open the window so the steam doesn’t set off the smoke alarm. As I peek outside, I pray there’s no weirdos out there. But just in case, I'm letting Matilda sleep on my bed tonight. I drop my PJ’s on the floor and hop in the shower.

I cover myself with soap and wash and rinse my hair, then I stand for a long while as the hot water runs down my back and warms my skin. Something large smashes against the house, startling me and spoiling my pleasure. My stomach churns. Hopefully it was just a branch from a gum tree, but after seeing weird silhouettes in the garden, I think I'd better check.

My heart thumping, I turn the taps off and step onto the fluffy blue bathmat. As I wrap myself in a large white towel, I pad over to the open window and peek out.

The wind is howling, chilling my nice warm skin. What a drag. If it's raining tomorrow I won't be able to go for a jog along the beach, or meet my friends at the kiosk. I sigh. At least it's Saturday and I can sleep in late. I shut the window and lock it. It's too spooky out there. If I hadn’t let Tom trick me into going to his place this evening, I would've seen Brooke and Ruby in the coffee shop and invited them to stay here tonight. It's too late now.

Keeping my eyes on the window, I rub myself dry, then I slip into my pyjamas and brush my teeth. On my way out, I turn out the light. Then I stop to listen. Is my mind playing tricks on me, or did I
just hear footsteps crunching on leaves?

My knees start to shake, but there's no
way I'm going outside to check. I don't fancy a strange apparition or a serial killer grabbing me or sneaking in here in the middle of the night. My eyes darting about like a frightened child, I pad down the hall to the lounge room to look for Matilda.

I guessed right.
She's curled up in her favourite spot on the couch, and as I lift her up, she opens her sleepy eyes and meows.

“You can sleep with me tonight, Tilda, then you won't get spooked by the storm.” I cuddle her warm body to my chest and walk back to my bedroom. She meows lazily as though she doesn't like being disturbed, then she leaps onto my bed.

“Okay, Matilda, I'm scared too, you know, but it's been a long day and I'm tired.” Yawning, I move her to one side and climb beneath the covers. As I stroke her head, she purrs. “Goodnight, Tilda.” I blow her a kiss and switch off the lamp, then I snuggle into my pillow and drift off to sleep.

Loud meowing wakes me from a dream and I open my eyes and squint at the clock radio. It's 3:am. I flick the lamp on, but Matilda has gone from my bed. Great, that's all I need, a bad night's sleep.
I look across the room and there she is—up on dressing table peering out the window. Suddenly she lets out a loud wail, leaps across the room, and back onto the bed.

“What is it, kitty? You scared of the thunder?”

Staring at me with her huge yellow eyeballs, she swishes her tail as if she’s trying to tell me something.

I stroke her head. “It's just a storm, silly.”

She sits up straighter, her ears erect. Ignoring her, I flick the light off and close my eyes again, but as I'm drifting back to sleep, she purrs.

Darn it. I sit up. “What is it, Matilda?”

She wails again.

Now, I'm annoyed with myself for bringing her into my room. I'm tired and I just want to sleep. I decide to give her one more chance, but before I have time to snuggle back down, she leaps onto the dresser again. That does it. I climb out of bed, scoop her up and stomp back to the lounge room. Though I feel guilty, I dump her in the nice comfy cat bed in the corner.

Patting her little noggin, I say, “Goodnight, sweetie.”

She scratches me with her paw.

“Ouch.” I rub my hand. ‘Little brat, that hurt. It's your own fault. You should've kept quiet.”

She looks at me, her eyes bright from a flash of lightning right outside the window. “I’m too tired for your antics tonight, kitty, so please go to sleep.”

I pad back to my bedroom and close the door, but it's damp and swollen from too much rain and won't shut properly. With a big sigh, I crawl back under my covers and snuggle into my warm pillow. As soon as I close my eyes, I drift back to sleep.

*
**

I must be dreaming because I’m lying on a large feather bed and staring up at the sky. There’s no roof or walls and the floor is a fluffy white cloud. As I look to my left, my heart skips a beat. There’s a guy sitting next to me, and though I can’t see his face through the haze, I can see the
rest of him, and boy is he hot.

His stomach is so firm and his arms and legs are ripped with muscles. Far out! I don’t wan
t to wake before seeing his eyes, so I kneel in front of him and touch his cheeks. Tingles shoot through my fingers and down to my toes, and though I still can’t see his face, our lips brush together and he pulls me towards him. Wow! His mouth is so soft and his heavenly scent makes me weak and dizzy. As his tongue finds mine, I hold his head and savour his sweet kiss. My heart skips a beat, but when he caresses my back, a painful electric shock surges through my chest. I try to scream, but I can't breathe. Something is smothering me. I struggle and kick, my heart pummelling against my ribs. Then as I gasp for air, I wake with a start. Holy crap. I'm trembling and sweating at the same time. What the hell kind of dream was that?

Chapter Three

Matilda is sitting across my neck, so I push her onto my pillow. Darn her. Is she trying to suffocate me for sending her out? “Sorry, Matilda, but you were smothering me.”

My left breast is burning, and as I run my fingers across it, I writhe with pain. That freaking hurts. Jeez, I can't believe my own cat went and scratched me. I want a better look at the wound before I scold her, but as I lean over to turn on the lamp, I hear a soft sound near my bed. I freeze. Holy shit. There's someone on the floor. My blood runs cold. Is it a serial killer? Is he going to kill me? Holding my covers to my chest, I edge back against the wall and scream.

“Calm down, Eloise. It's me—Tom.”

I bang my hand on the touch-lamp and sure enough, Tom is sitting on the carpet next to my bed, a guilty look on his face. I snatch a book from my bedside table and throw it at him. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“Ouch,” he moans, rubbing the back of his head and staring at the book. “I only came to apologise—you know—for this evening. I didn't know you were going to beat me up with some freakin love story.”

“Well, you could've knocked first,” I yell. “You scared me half to death.”

He scrambles to his feet. “I did knock, but you didn't answer. When I turned the knob it opened, so I came in to let you know you'd forgotten to lock up. Plus I was worried 'cause you told me your folks were away and I wanted to make sure you got home safely. You should've let me drive you.”

I squint at him. “Okay, so I'm forgetful, but why were you hiding under my bed?”

“What?” His eyes grow wide. “I wasn't hiding under your bed. I only came in your room to wake you. When I tapped on your shoulder, you moaned, then you pulled me on top of you and started kissing me.”

“What? I was asleep. You just woke me up.”

He kneels down in front of my bed. “I’m sorry, Elle. Honestly. I thought you were awake and you’d forgiven me because you were hugging me tight. Next thing; your crazy cat jumped between us and went berserk. She was scratching and hissing, then you gave an almighty heave and shoved me off the bed.”

I fasten my pyjama top. “Well … well, I must have been dreaming. Anyway, you could have phoned first.”

He rolls his eyes. “I did—I rang your cell, and sent a text. I emailed you, too.”

“Bull-crap.” I fold my arms. “I don’t believe you. You only came over because you knew I was home alone, not to apologise. I know what you're really after.”

He jumps up and sits on the end of the bed. “Aw, come on, Elle, I'm sorry for what I did earlie
r, and I promise I won’t do it again. It's Friday the thirteenth. How about I order a pizza and we watch a scary movie?”

He's got to be kidding me. I scowl. “I don't want to watch a scary movie. I'm tired and have a headache, thanks to you and your antics this evening.”

He ruffles my hair. “Let me give you a neck massage. That’ll get rid of your headache.”

“Get lost! You’re not massaging my neck. I don’t trust you.”

“Come on, babe, think of the fun we can have while your folks are away.”

“Fun? You call stripping my clothes off fun?”

“But you wanted me to.”  He grins wickedly. “I didn't force you to come into my bedroom, and you didn't mind me kissing you.”

My jaw drops. “You ratbag—you said we were going to watch a video, and you lied about your mum being home.”

Grabbing my hands, he pulls his hound-dog face. “I said I’m sorry. Please forgive me?”

“No!” I push him away. “Go home.”

“Aww, Elle, don't play hard to get.”

I belt him over the head with my pillow, then I leap off the bed and hold the door open. “You'd better go, Tom.”

Shaking his head, he walks into the hall, then he turns and eyes me up and down. “Cute pyjamas.”

“Leave!”

He shoves his hands into his jeans pocket and swaggers down the hall. “Okay, but you better lock up after me. You don't want any weirdos getting in.”

“What?” I roll my eyes and playfully push him towards the front entrance. “It's a bit late for that advice. You're the biggest weirdo I know and you're in.”

Spinning around, he grabs me by the waist and yanks me towards him. “You’ll be safer if I stay the night.”

I laugh. “Yeah, right.”

He gazes into my eyes. “Please, babe, you know how I feel about you.”

My heart skips, and as usual, I'm tempted by his charms. But I want him to kiss me like the boy in my dream did, not rough like before. As his lips brush mine, I close my eyes and inhale his pungent cologne, but instead of the heavenly feeling I had in my dream, I feel uncomfortable. Tom’s kiss is hard and demanding like earlier, and he's hurting my mouth again. I can't breathe, so I pull away.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his hands moving under my pyjama top. “Open your mouth a bit. You kiss like a mackerel.”

How rude. I've seriously had enough of his demeaning insults and I stamp on his foot.

“Ouch,” he yells. “What did you do that for?”

I open the front door and shove him out, then I slam it shut and lock it. “Goodnight, Tom,” I shout through the crack.

“Oh, Elle,” he moans. “Let me stay. I'll sleep on the couch.”

“No,” I yell “You insulted me. Anyway, you'll sneak around all night and I won’t get a wink of sleep.”

He bangs on the door. “But you're not safe on your own.”

I sigh. He’s sort of cute and I don’t know if I should break up with him or give him another chance. I'm confused. The boy in my dream made me swoon, but all Tom does is make me mad. Mackerel indeed.

“Elle, let me in,” he hollers. “I promise not to disturb you.”

I don't trust him and there's no way I'm letting him stay—besides, after my dream, I don't trust myself. No point risking temptation. I press my ear to the door and wait for him to leave, but he doesn't go. I tiptoe into the front room and peek out the curtain. Crap, he's sitting on a chair on the porch.

Chewing a fingernail, I try to think. Then I have a brilliant idea. I dash down the hall to the kitchen, grab a frozen fish from the freezer, then I run back. Giggling, I put the safety chain on the front door and peek out. “Goodnight, Tom.”

He pushes the door, but it catches. “Elle, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. Take the chain off and I'll show you how to French kiss, you'll love it.”

“I'm not taking the chain off, but I'll kiss you if you close your eyes. I feel self-conscious after your insult.”

“Aw,
you know I didn't mean it, baby.” He leans into the gap in the door. “Come here.”

I shake my head. “Not unless you close your eyes.”

“Okay, if you insist.” He shuts his eyes and puckers his lips.

Trying not to laugh, I jam the head of the fish into hi
s mouth. “Ewe, you kiss like a blobfish,” I say. “Open wide and I'll give you some tongue.”

He slaps the fish away. “Friggin hell. That hurt.”

Laughing hysterically, I hold my belly and try to speak. Then I wave the fish at him. ‘Give us another kiss, blobfish.”

“That's disgusting,” he says, wiping his mouth with his
sleeve. “And what the hell's a blobfish?”

“A blobfish is a hideous sea creature with no muscles—a floating piece of slime that lives just above the bottom of the ocean. It eats anything that just happens to come its way. Does it sound like you, Tom?” I giggle again. “And if you do a web search, you'll see how ugly it is.”

He glares at me, his nostrils flaring like an angry bull. Then he stomps to his car and gets in the driver's seat. Giving me a black look, he slams the door.

I wave t
he fish at him. “Night, night, blobfish.”

His tyres screech, then he zooms away.

Chuckling to myself, I lock the door and march back to the kitchen. I hope that gave him something to think about. Now, who kisses like a mackerel? After tossing the fish back in the freezer, I wash my stinky hands and head back to bed.

I lift Matilda off my pillow and hold her on my lap. “Why did you scratch me, Kitty? Were you trying to protect me from that naughty Tom?”

Meowing, she lifts her chin up and stares at me. “What?” I stroke her head and push her to the end of the bed, but as I climb between the sheets, she meows again. I sigh. “Just go to sleep, Matilda.” For some reason she's spooking me out tonight. And I can't even shut her out because of the stupid swollen doors. Ignoring her, I yawn and close my eyes.

When I wake, bright sunlight is shimmering through a gap in the curtains. I rub my eyes and glance at the clock radio. It's 7:30 am. Smiling, I spring out of bed and head to the kitchen. It's going to be a sunny day after all. I gobble down some muesli and milk, then I send text messages to my friends. Hopefully they'll all turn up at the beach today. It's too cold to swim, but it's a great day for a jog on the sand. I boogie to my room and dress in my blue shorts and a pink sweater. As I slip into my sneakers, I glance at my untidy room and grin. Mum's not here to nag me, so I don't have to clean up. Chuckling to myself, I head out the front door and lock it.

The sweet aroma of jasmine reminds me it's nearly springtime, and as I jog down the street towards the beach, I inhale the fresh salty air. When I reach the promenade, I glance at my watch. It's too early for Brooke and Ruby to be up yet. They always sleep late on Saturdays. Plus the waves are so rough after the storm, they probably won't turn up. Maybe there was a storm warning because the beach is deserted, except for the squawking seagulls. With a big sigh, I walk down the steps onto the sand and start jogging along the water edge.

Although it's cold and windy, I'm surprised there aren’t any early morning joggers around, or people walking their dogs. The only person here is a body surfer. Jeez. Why would anyone swim in the icy ocean without a wetsuit? I shiver at the thought, but as I get closer I realise he’s not moving. He’s lying on his stomach in the shallow water, and he’s naked. My heart pounding against my ribs, I look around for a life guard, but I can't see one. Biting my lip, I kneel on the sand to see if he's conscious. Shoot. He's not
moving. I shake his shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

Far out, he’s not answering me and I don’t think he’s breathing. My hand trembling, I press my fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse, but I can't find one. My stomach flips and I reach for my cell to call for an ambulance. Darn it. My battery's dead. As I try to remember how to do CPR, the sun disappears behind a huge black cloud. Great, that's all I need, a storm. I turn the man on his side and look in his mouth. There's nothing in there that I can see, but he's still not breathing. Jeez.
I wish somebody would come and help me.

As gently as I can, I roll him onto his back. Oh my. He's only a boy—a beautiful naked boy with the masculine body of a man. My face flushes with embarrassment and I glance around, but there's still no one about. Crikey. It looks like I’ll have to try and save him myself. Leaning over him, I tilt his head back, then inhaling deeply, I press my open mouth over his and blow out two sharp breaths.

WHAM!
I'm suddenly thrown on top of him as an agonising pain shoots from my back to my heart. I'm on fire. Oh my god! Have I been struck by lightning? I try to scream, but I'm paralysed and can't move. With thunder roaring above me, the pain starts to pass, but I'm lying on top of a naked boy and I'm losing consciousness.