-:-
Bright green eyes stared back at me with the same shock, confusion, and fear that mirrored in mine. His face was startlingly pale and glistening with sweat, and his mop of dark hair was wild, sticking out in different directions. He was much taller than me with a lean build, and he was strikingly handsome. If he was a ghost, he was a gorgeous one, but the moment of attraction was fleeting, as was the thought that he was of the spirit world. Ghosts didn't sweat, after all.
The stranger swallowed, still panting, and furrowed his brow as he gasped, "Who are you?"
I stood with my mouth hanging open, my blood-spotted towel frozen in my hand. "Um, I'm Bella. I… Sorry, I thought—"
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
His anger startled me and I flinched, stepping back, and then glared right back at him. "What am I doing? What are you doing?" I said. "I wouldn't be standing here if you hadn't been pounding on the wall."
"I wasn't pounding on the wall," he said, though his tone betrayed him.
I tried to think of a way to explain without sounding like I had been listening to his every move. Technically, I had heard him through the wall without trying, so that really didn't count as eavesdropping. If anything, he had been disturbing me. That gave me some confidence.
"Yes, you were," I replied, pretending as though my heart wasn't starting to race. Confrontations always made me nervous. "It was loud enough to wake me and scare me out of bed. Then I heard someone crying out and moaning, and I thought you were some old man who'd fallen or—"
As I spoke, he looked at me so strangely, it silenced me for a few moments before I blurted out, "Are you okay or not?"
He took a deep breath, looking unsettled. "You're bleeding," he said.
For some reason, I was defensive about this. "You're sweating." I pressed the towel I was holding up to my head to catch whatever was still apparently oozing.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asked, glancing over the balcony and then back to me.
"Well, yeah. Are you?"
He raked his hand through his hair and let out another shaky breath. "Yes." And with that said, he briskly brushed past me, slamming his door closed as he left. He descended the stairs and was out of my sight before I could blink.
I waited for my heartbeat to slow to normal before heading back to my room, shaking my head. How in the hell was I supposed to go back to sleep after that? My cellphone read only one in the morning, which made it four AM in Jacksonville. It was for the best since I knew I could never call Renée about this without making her mom-helicopter start to spiral.
'Hi, Mom, sorry to wake you. No, I'm fine, just a little head wound. Forks is okay. A cute stranger might be coming unglued in the room next to me and kind of looked like he wanted to kill me, but you always taught me not to judge.'
I went into the bathroom and checked my head. Luckily, the bloody streaming was slowing, and it now was just kind of wet and disgusting. I washed up, changed my shirt, and dug in my duffel bag for some Band-Aids, thinking that a person like me should have bought some stock in bandages by now, and patched myself up the best I could. I looked like a fool with three crooked Band-Aids over my eye, but I was hoping to avoid bleeding on the sheets next since I'd already ruined a towel.
Before I got back into bed, I crept over to the door and cracked it an inch to look out. No sound. No movement. No dark-haired boys. I should have felt relieved, but I felt slightly concerned that he was off somewhere, stalking the lobby or the outside parking lot. I hoped he had enough sense to stay out of the woods at night; the bear statue at the door had given me a new perspective on safety.
As I covered myself back up in the sheets and comforter, which I'd carelessly thrown back onto the bed after they'd half fallen out with me, I tried to discipline myself to close my eyes. But of course, instead, my mind was reeling. Who was this guy? Why had he looked so panic-stricken? Better yet, why did he look like he wanted to rip my head off for caring?
I had expected Forks to distract me, definitely, but I certainly hadn't expected it to be in the form of a guy—at least, not consciously. It would be embarrassing to my I-Don't-Need-Anyone ego if I had trouble ignoring him if he was still around. For all I knew, he could have bolted.
I huffed and buried my face in a pillow, making the cut on my head ache with a stinging throb. I would have to wait and see.
-:-
After drifting in and out of sleep for the rest of the night, I woke only mildly refreshed to the sound of more rain. As I groggily made my way to the bathroom, I saw that a bruise had already started forming around my eye—another lovely mark my clumsy ass could be proud of. I knew I'd better think of a good story to tell in case anyone asked—something better than 'the handsome mystery man next door almost punched a hole in the wall and I fell out of bed.'
I decided to take a quick shower to wash away the rest of my sleepiness, and then dressed in a sweater and jeans, and fixed my hair. I felt silly for anticipating breakfast for a reason other than hunger. If I was being honest, I was curious if I would see my mysterious neighbor.
I placed just one small Band-Aid over my eyebrow and parted my hair to the side, trying to cover the bruise. I hadn't used foundation in years and hadn't considered much about makeup when I was packing for a trip to a town of forestry, so I didn't really have much that was going to cover anything. I tried some powder, but it was useless, so I put on some lip balm and mascara and decided not to care about the rest.
I left my room, and as I descended the stairs, I suddenly started feeling the opposite of curious—as in, I was kind of hoping I wouldn't see this guy. I was a stranger and had obviously intruded on a personal moment of whatever it was that he had going on, and he didn't exactly seem thrilled at my concern. Then again, I had given him some attitude back, so I didn't entirely blame him for storming down the stairs and leaving me standing there feeling like a super idiot.
Even so, I smoothed out my shirt and hair before I walked down the last set of stairs. Through the windows and array of trees, I could make out small patches of cloudy sky, but the lobby was brightly lit and bustling with conversation. People were sitting in both the buffet area and in front of the fireplace, sipping from mugs or small glasses of orange juice. Some of them gave me a smile or nod and I shyly smiled in return. Florida was crowded and fast-paced in the cities, so I wasn't used to being acknowledged by strangers. It felt odd, but it was sort of nice.
When I entered the café, I tried not to scan the room. If my next-door neighbor was present, I didn't want to seem as if I was blatantly searching for him, so I headed directly to the buffet. I placed a tea bag in a mug reading "Red Timber Lodge, est. 1901" and filled it with hot water from one of the machines. The aroma of eggs, bacon, and other mouthwatering scents were inviting, and I was looking forward to digging into a plate of something buttery and highly caloric, but then I noticed Jessica in my periphery. She was with a blonde girl, both of them carrying trays of food, and they happened to spot me at the same moment.
I received an identical look of scorn from each.
I wondered if Jessica had filled the blonde in on the state of my truck and she, too, thought that made me an unprivileged loser. The glares they'd given me made me nervous, and I figured I'd stick to buffet food unless I met another server. Small bowls of red and green apples and bananas had been placed on the center of each table, overlapping the blue table runners, so at least I could survive on fruit, too, if it came down to it. Along with my tea, a bagel and cream cheese accompanied me to the nearest table, and as I got settled, I looked up and promptly froze.
Next to a window, a few tables away, there he was. My floor-mate.
Instantly diverting my eyes, I stared down at my breakfast, sincerely forgetting what to do with it for a good ten seconds. Once I remembered how to act human, I hastily unwrapped my silverware and started spreading cream cheese on the bagel. I took a self-conscious bite and chewed, then peeked. He was still there and hadn't seen me.
"What can I get you to drink?"
I startled. The blonde girl had snuck up to my table and was looking down at me questioningly. I pointed to the cup of tea I'd brought to the table and stared back at her, puzzled. "Thanks, but I'm okay."
"Oh, right," she said. "I'm Lauren. You're Isabella?"
"Bella," I said. "Nice to meet you." I tried my hardest not to sound intimidated, but she was staring at me as though I had something gross on my face. I touched my head, feeling for blood, but nothing felt wet.
"Yeah, you too. So, what brings you to Forks, Bella?"
I glanced to the side and saw Jessica peering over from the front of the lobby. Aha—they wanted information. I sighed and gave Lauren just as fake of a smile, if I could even call it that, as she was giving me. "The weather."
As if on cue, a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. Lauren gave me a strange look, giving a short scoff with her nose, and backed away from my table. I almost laughed, finding it a bit funny that pretty much everyone my age at this lodge was pissed off at the world.
I took another bite of my bagel, unable to ignore the temptation to keep glancing over at the wall-banger, thinking it would be nice to put a name to his face. I stirred my own tea aimlessly, trying not to clink the spoon too loudly, and discreetly watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was sipping from a mug; his eyes were bloodshot, and I wondered if he was sneaking whiskey with his breakfast.
Wishing I had brought a book to distract myself, I made myself concentrate on eating and tried to people-watch other people instead. There were a few ladies sitting together with their breakfast and books, chattering and giggling, some coffee-sippers with their morning papers, and a few other random people, including a gray-haired man playing chess. Another man eventually walked up to him, cheerily bellowing, "Miller, you old sod!" and had a seat at his table to join him.
While everyone else was participating in their book clubs, coffee clubs, and chess clubs, I was still trying to pretend I wasn't involved in a clandestine staring/stalking club.
I really was trying to ignore him, but the thought of him possibly noticing me was putting me on high alert. Not that I thought he'd come over to chat or anything, but my inner-anxiety wasn't prepared for this so early in the morning.
Eventually, someone brought him toast but he didn't make a move to eat it. He was looking out the rain-streaked window with his chin resting on his fist. He was in such a simple position—it was a very common thing to do. Yet, I somehow started imagining him flashing me a seductive gaze, ripping off his shirt, and asking if he could fuck me senseless.
"Isabella!"
My elbow slid off the table's edge and I grabbed my mug, trying to keep it from flying off. Tea sloshed over the side and down my fingers, burning them, and as I jerked my hands back, I knocked my plate off the table. I winced at the stinging pain and everything seemed to go quiet at once, except for my plate, which was rolling around in a circle like a spun quarter. And my bagel had landed cream cheese side down on the lovely hardwood.
People were staring.
"Oh, honey! I didn't mean to startle you!"
It was Doris who had called my name—she was now hurrying to my table with some papers in her hand. I felt a warm rush of blood wash across my cheeks as I quickly picked up my plate and bagel from the floor and swiped at the spots of cream cheese with my napkin.
"Are you all right?" Doris asked, eyeing my table.
Feeling as though I could pass out from humiliation, I looked up sheepishly. "Yes, I'm sorry," I said, still trying to mop up my spill. "I was daydreaming." Inappropriately.
"Yes, dear, I could see that," she said in a low voice, her face disclosing a wide smile. "Can't keep your eyes off of Mr. Masen, can you?"
Mr. Masen? The piano-playing gentleman she'd been dreamy-eyed for last night? If the man playing chess was Mr. Miller, then who—
"Neither can I, dear," she said wholeheartedly. "I've always had a weakness for green eyes."
Oh. Oh.
I straightened quickly. "Oh, no, I—" I shook my head, but it was no use; her smile was as wide as a canyon. I cleared my throat and asked in a near whisper, "That's Mr. Masen? In the gray shirt? With the… hair?"
Most of the other men were balding, after all.
"Oh, yes. Why?" Doris looked at me curiously. The ridiculous thought that I'd had about her being carnal against the wall with Mr. Masen during the early hours was now in my head again and I was suddenly having a hard time closing my mouth.
"Sorry," I apologized, trying to erase the mental image. Before, I had envisioned someone around her age with some salt-and-pepper hair and a big, old-man mustache. This newly conjured visualization was both hilariously funny and equally disturbing."Oh, honey, what happened to your head?" she exclaimed loudly as I pushed my hair behind my ears and exposed my bandaged bruise.
"Ah. Well…" I glanced over at the newly identified Mr. Masen's table, and he was looking. I felt like I'd just been caught gossiping as blood continued to swirl under my cheeks. "I just bumped it. It's no big deal."
She gave my forehead a motherly touch, tilting it to the side so she could see better. "Well, goodness me. I have some antiseptic in the first-aid kit. Would you like me to get you some?"
I chuckled. "Don't worry, I come fully stocked with medical supplies. History of clumsiness and all."
Doris made a grandmotherly tsk noise with her tongue. "Well, dear, do try to be careful. We wouldn't want you giving any of us old folk arrhythmia."
I smiled slightly. "I'll try."
"How was your first night? Did you sleep well?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you," I said lightly. "It was very… peaceful."
Was it ever.
Doris gave me a pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear it. Oh!" She handed me the few papers that she had carried over. "It's a map of the town and some attractions over in Port Angeles. I figured you might want to get a start on your big plans."
She was a sweet woman, that was for sure. Too bad I was pretty boring. "That's thoughtful of you, thanks," I said.
I tried to resist, but I took another glimpse of my neighbor. He was playing with his toast but still not eating. He couldn't hide his obvious concentration, so I knew he was listening like a little schoolgirl.
"So, Doris, I meant to ask you something about the rooms on the fourth floor."
He stopped twirling his toast.
"I heard some noises last night," I said. "I was wondering if there was an attic above my room. Maybe something could have fallen or an open window blowing against the wall?"
Doris pursed her lips thoughtfully. "No, there's no attic. Was it coming from the bathroom, dear? The pipes run down the far wall by the bathtub and they can make a pattering sound sometimes."
As I looked over at him, he was staring at me. I quickly looked away. "Probably," I told Doris. "My imagination was just running away with me, I guess. You know, sleeping in new places."
She gave me an understanding nod but frowned. "I'd hate to think that any of the wiring or pipes are deteriorating already. We replaced everything only five years ago."
"I'm sure it was nothing," I reassured her, afraid she might turn to Mr. Masen and start inquiring him. "Whatever it was, it didn't last long."
"Hmm," Doris continued to ponder in her head, but thankfully, she dismissed it. "Well, let me know if you hear anything else out of the ordinary. We might just have our very own ghost!"
She chuckled at her notion and I gave a smile, feeling a slight urge to tell her that the "ghost" was in this very breakfast area, eavesdropping on our conversation. Although, with Doris's volume, I was pretty sure that half of the other guests were, too; the table of book club ladies had gone suspiciously silent, all sipping from their cups of coffee and looking off in different directions.
"So, anyway," Doris said, "if you don't have plans later, we're showing The Green Mile at seven-thirty tonight if you're interested. Hopefully, this storm will ease up. Last week, the thunder kept interrupting the films. Here, let me take this for you." She picked up my plate with the sad-looking bagel on it. "Can I get you something else, dear? Anything from the kitchen?"
"No, thank you," I said. "I'll grab something else from the buffet and try to hold onto it this time."
She laughed heartily. "You're a funny one. If you change your mind, let me know," she said cordially. "After breakfast, would you like me to introduce you to some of the regulars?" She lowered her voice and added, "Perhaps a certain someone that your eyes keep drifting to?"
My eyes widened and I laughed nervously, hoping to God he didn't have good ears. "Well, I think I'll keep a low profile today. Just unpack some more and maybe check out your bookcases. The movie sounds great, though."
"Alright then, if you say so," said Doris, a knowing smile on her face. "Well, Isabella, enjoy your morning. Come and find me if you have any questions. Or if you make friends with your ghost."
She winked, making her way over to the book club table, where all four ladies quickly pretended that they hadn't been paying attention.
I let my breath out and wiped up the rest of the tea that had sloshed out onto the table, envying the people that had good control of their motor skills. Eventually, against my better judgment, I peeked over in my neighbor's direction one more time.
He was gone.
-:-
