no control

• twenty five •

gladys

"Ever played hooky before?"

I looked up from my laptop, squinting as my mind whirled with physics equations.

Elijah walked towards me with two bowls of salad in his hands. He wore his usual black suit, a matching tie loosely hanging around his nape. His mouth just barely tilted upwards.

I'd learned that his most genuine smiles were the smallest ones.

Holding out one of the bowls, he sank down onto the sofa beside me. I caught a whiff of strawberries and pecans and then a stronger scent of sandalwood and tobacco.

Jesus, he smelled delicious.

I accepted the salad bowl and glanced down at the leafy, green contents. There were apple chunks, orange slices, halved strawberries, spinach, diced pecans, cucumber slivers, and pieces of baked chicken.

I'd never craved a salad more than right then.

"Well . . ." I wet my lips and stabbed a few greens with my fork. "No, actually. I mean, I've left for appointments and things but I've never just skipped."

God knows what Larry would've done to me if I ever even conceived the idea of playing hooky. He had verbally berated me for much less many times.

He smirked at me around his fork. "You're almost done with your high school career. I think you deserve a break."

I hadn't been doing a whole lot this morning before he came back from work. I'd been studying for exams, finishing up final projects.

I didn't have anything left to do, technically.

"What are we doing in lieu of school then?" I asked.

"Shopping. We're getting you a new wardrobe and whatever books you need. Or want."

I frowned. "I thought we agreed you were going too overboard on me. You don't need to do all this for me. Honestly."

"I never agreed to that. I most certainly am going overboard on you. Either you can help me pick out things you like, or I'll pick them for you."

"I've always wanted to have a wardrobe stylist," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"I don't think you'd like the things I'd choose for you."

His words lit a match under my skin, slicing through the delicate epithelial layers and burning right through my nerves.

I shivered but tried to hide it.

"I would appreciate some new clothes," I acquiesced, my eyes shyly downcast. "Thank you."

He tilted my chin back. His interminable gaze seared into me.

"You're welcome, angel. Why don't you go ahead and change into your work clothes so I can take you straight from the mall?" he suggested.

I nodded, biting back a smile.

His thoughtfulness touched me. Part of me would always second guess trusting him now, secretly terrified of being forgotten again.

The other part of me couldn't help trusting him. It was like breathing, completely reflexive and involuntary.

I knew it was inevitable he would disappoint me again—he was human, after all. But I knew he wouldn't intentionally upset or hurt me. He seemed genuinely repentant for forgetting me yesterday.

After I changed into jeans and a clean work top, Elijah and I descended through the house to his garage. We walked over to the SUV and opened the passenger door for me.