𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

33

Why am I so nervous?

And why, after nearly three minutes have passed since Eric asked if I'm coming in, am I still standing here, staring at the door?

My heart is racing, I can hear how hard it's beating, like drums being pounded as my blood screams in my ears, trying to calm myself down with steady breaths.

It's only Eric. We've been messaging back and forth, so I know there are no regrets. I've known him since I was fifteen, listened to his countless insults, and felt his hands all over my body. So, why the hell am I terrified to walk into this room and ask him his deepest, darkest secrets, then follow it up by telling him my ex kissed me?

Oh, and not to forget Gareth knows about us and that his loyalty to my family is about to be questioned.

Maybe I can skip the part where I'm unsure if he's with or against us, and do my own digging? Eric will rip him apart if there is even a small chance that Gareth is trying to kill me. He would've smothered me in my sleep if so, right?

I just can't see him being like that. Gareth, although he's my bodyguard, is also my friend. He's goofy yet smart, strong yet soft, and he has a ridiculous crush on Ainsley. He's not the enemy, I refuse to believe it unless I have solid proof.

Reaching out to grab the handle, I freeze, glancing to my left and right. There is a camera in the corner of the hallway, a red light flashing that indicates the screen is currently being watched. God. He must think I'm a bloody weirdo, especially as I take a step back and shake my head with how anxious I am to walk in here and ruin his mood.

Breathe and calm down. I'm overreacting, overthinking, as usual.

It's not that I'm scared of him. I'm terrified of what he'll tell me, or not tell me about this apparent prison sentence. Maybe a little worried about Robbie approaching me and having to explain what happened. After all, I didn't report the incident to Gareth, so it'll most likely seem suspicious.

I can just picture him frowning at the screen, wondering what the fuck I'm doing.

What are you doing? Open the bloody door! I urge myself, twisting my fingers together as I step forward again.

I take a deep breath and go for it.

As I walk into the security room, I instantly notice all the screens taking up one of the walls. Live footage is playing from all over the dome, flicking from one angle to another. There are no windows. The place is dark with the glow of the screens shining onto the metal desk at the far corner. It looks cold, but I'm heating up as I move further into the room with eyes burning into me.

Eric is sitting relaxed, his elbow on the armrest of the chair behind the desk, finger to his temple. He very openly checks me out, but his facial expression stays the same, closed off, walls up, and remaining seated.

I don't expect him to stand up and take me in his arms, but it would have been nice, would have maybe calmed my erratic nerves. I guess we aren't at that stage, but that's okay. One step at a time with whatever the hell it is we are doing.

It's not normal how much he affects me. The organ in my chest and the pulse between my legs already going crazy. Everything about him has me blushing, the veins in his hands, the tattoos littering his skin, the way his Adam's apple bobs when he looks at me. Eric in sportswear is my favourite, but when he's in his uniform, a white shirt that's tight against his muscles, trousers that leave little to the imagination, it all makes me feel like I'm in the Neurock again.

But then my breathing stops, my eyes finding the screen once more. Turning my back to him, facing the CCTV footage, I search for the bin area, feeling a wave of relief when I notice it's one of the blind spots.