Crack In The Ice - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

I have just left the shower when I bump into her.
She moves her blonde hair over one shoulder awkwardly, a pretty pink color rushing to her pale cheeks. I immediately regret not taking my clothes with me when I went into the bathroom.
"I was just waiting for you to leave," Scarlet says. "So I could..."
I clear my throat. "All yours."
She smiles a half-embarrassed, half-grateful smile before escaping into the bathroom at the same time I escape into my bedroom, with one hand holding the towel around my waist with a deadly grasp.
She was wearing one of my brother's plain black t-shirts and a pair of his old basketball shorts, which covered her all the way to the knees and elbows. She probably started leaving the bedroom fully clothed after our unexpected run-in a week ago. Though I can't say we saw much of each other since then.
The day after Trey're brilliant idea of a get-together at the recreational center, we met at the rink for a skate after lunch - which was really just a heavy breakfast for most. Not everyone was there. Most were too hangover to show up. Some had work. Dean's brother caught us on our way out and asked if he could tag along, then changed his mind when he realized Hannah wasn't coming.
Liam and Chloe were there on the next rink over, in their own practice, which seemed to end earlier because Chloe was nursing a pretty bad hangover. After the state she got herself into I wasn't surprised.
Owen was also in an extra somber mood that day, looking like he should be in bed, but he told us he was good so we let him be. I tried to keep a low-key eye on him still. I had never seen him get drunk unless it was just me, him and Dean before, so that night was a pretty big surprise. I just wanted to make sure he was actually fine.
I spent most of my time the rest of the week with Dean and Owen's families, mostly successfully timing my short visits to my own house to avoid Elliott. And potentially Scarlet.
I did manage to see Liam one more time the past week too. And by 'see' I mean see.
I decided to go for an after-hours skate at the rink last night, like I used to do in high school after practice and he was there. It wasn't really until I saw Liam at the rink that I realized I was probably hoping he would be there when I decided to go. We skated together for a bit, for old times, trying to one-up each other. Then I let him pull me along to the locker rooms. For old times.
We stayed until well after closing time - which had never happened in high school - and had to sneak out through a window after everything was locked. I got home pretty late after refusing Liam's ride, and that's how I ended up sleeping in long enough to be up today at the same time as Elliott. And Scarlet.
"Morning," Elliott says from the stove as I pass him in the kitchen. He's shirtless and barefoot, but I can see his wearing sweat pants and underwear, so I guess that's fine. I think.
"Morning."
"Want some breakfast?" He uses the spatula in his hand to gesture vaguely at the eggs his making.
"I'm good."
"You sure?"
"Late to see Ollie," I offer lamely.
"You could still eat before you go," he says. I notice then that his brown beard is carefully trimmed, and wonder if it also looked like that when I first arrived or if it had been the usual shaggy mass I remember from before I moved out. Had it maybe looked like that during other times I visited?
"I made eggs," he adds, even though I can see that.
"Don't want to intrude," I mumble.
"You wouldn't."
"Mh."
"You wouldn't be intruding. Seriously. I mean. It's your house too."
"Right."
Elliott blinks at me. "It is, right?"
"I guess."
I see movement in his throat, and it looks like he's readying himself to say something. A split-second thought has me wondering if I could hastily make it to the door before he can.
"You know, I've been meaning to-" He cuts himself off. "I should probably apologize for the day you got here. About, uh... I knew you were coming but you never told me the time and I just-"
"It's fine."
He pauses after I interrupt him and starts again. "We could have, you know... Prepared for you."
"Elliott, it's fine." Do I sound annoyed?
"I don't know if it is."
"If it's about Scarlet-"
"Yes." Now he cut me off.
"Right."
"Look-"
"Elliott, seriously, it's fine." I stop him. "This is your place. You stay here all year. And you can sleep with whoever you want."
"Right." He nods. "Sure."
"Good."
"But we're not just sleeping together," he says.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Okay."
"Right." He nods again.
"Yeah."
There's a pause. Silence. Do I break it? I'm going to break it.
"I should go." I gesture for the door. "Olie is waiting for me."
"No breakfast then?"
"Not hungry."
"Okay."
"Yeah."
I think I practically run to the Holmes doorsteps after that. It's Olie herself that opens the door.
"Hey." She grins.
"Hey." I brush past her to hurry inside.
"You're cheery this morning," she muses, closing the door.
"Sorry. Haven't eaten."
She shows me the snack in her hands. "Want a pop-tart?"
"Sure. Owen home?" I ask, leading the way to the kitchen.
"No. He left to help my dad out with some plumbing business two hours out. Can't remember the town name, but it has something to do with bears." She opens an overhead cupboard. "Brown sugar cinnamon or strawberry banana?"
I frown. "There are no towns with bears in the names around here. And cinnamon."
"No, no." She waves me off, grabbing a brown sugar cinnamon pop-tart and slipping it in the toaster. "It's not in the name. It just reminds me of bears. Doesn't matter."
She turns around leaning against the kitchen counter to face me.
"Isn't Owen supposed to be on vacation before his summer internship in Boston?" I ask.
"Ha," she cackles. "You mean Owen's vocabulary includes the word 'vacation'?"
I roll my eyes and the toaster jumps with my breakfast ready. I take it with me to the living room, where we sit down on the couch. Olie leans against the cushions, licking her fingers after finishing her pop-tart, and props her socked feet up on the couch, legs bent at the knees.
"Wait. What about your mom? She around?" I sit up straighter, remembering suddenly and now worried that I didn't greet Mrs Holmes when I came in.
Olie shakes her head. "Groceries."
"You didn't go with her?"
She smiles impishly. "I told her I was waiting for you. She told me to stay and make sure you were fed." She gestures proudly at the pastry in my hand.
I roll my eyes.
A socked foot touches my thigh to get my attention. "You know my mom sees you as basically an adopted son, right?" Her tone is playful, but the words feel serious.
I snort.
She smiles. "It really makes that attempted kiss four years ago pretty disturbing if you think about it."
I scrunch up my face with a groan. "Then why did you bring it up?"
"For the chaotic neutral energy."
"You're chaotic evil at best."
She scoffs. "How dare you?"
The truth is she brings that up quite a lot. She used to call it exposure therapy. After the crush she had on me during my senior year and the little mess that caused, she said we had to learn to get comfortable with that 'whoopsie' in our relationship if we were to stay friends. True to my nature, I'd rather sweep it under the rug and tip toe around the topic, but Olie just kept the uncomfortable jokes coming at such a frequent rate that I was eventually inoculated.
At this point, I think even Owen cracks a little smile at the topic. Guess exposure therapy really did work on everyone. Though I don't think either of us would have let anyone other than Olie put us through it.
I don't know about Mrs Holmes seeing me as an adopted son, but Owen is one of my best friends and his sister definitely feels like a sister to me now. I care about Ollie in a way I don't think I do for anyone else in the world. And even though fours years ago I was scared I might've been the reason she got hurt, I really don't want her to go through anything like that with anyone else.
"Wanna watch something else or is this good?" She asks, and I notice for the first time that the TV is on, playing cartoons.
I shrug.
She smiles. "Very helpful."
"Stuff with Trey okay?"
She raises her eyebrows at me. "Yeah, why?"
"No reason."
She schools her expression into a serious one. "If there's one thing you need to know about yourself, Elijah Blake, is that you're a terrible liar."
I roll my eyes. "If you say everything's okay, then it's okay."
"Okay." She smiles. A foot prods me on the thigh again and the impish smile returns to her face. "What about youuu?"
"What?"
"Is stuff okay with you?"
"I'm fine," I say.
"Yeah, but I meant in the matters of love and bedroom."
My eyes widen and I choke on the last bite of my pop-tart. "Jeez, Olie."
I try not to sound too panicked. But it's usually not like Olie to press these types of topics. We have a more or less strict unspoken rule of never talking about something the other hasn't brought up. Though I guess I did open that door by asking about her and Trey.
"Come on," she says. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But is it so wrong of me to ask?"
"Yes?"
She blows me a disappointed raspberry. "I'm your friend. I care about you. I want you to be loved. And dirtily defiled by someone who rocks your world, on occasion."
Despite myself and my intrusive thoughts, I snort out a laugh that makes her smile.
"What's so funny?" She pokes me in the leg again.
I keep laughing.
Olie mock-scoffs. "Everybody knows. A railing a day keeps the doctor away."
That sends a new wave of laughter through me which, along with Olie's new jab to my leg, sends me rolling off the couch.
The sound of the front door opening urges me to try to stop. Olie stays planted to her spot on the couch, grinning down at me as Mrs Holmes peeks her head into the living room with a bag of groceries in each arm. She takes note of her daughter on the couch and my splayed out figure on the floor.
"Are you okay, dear?"
"That's what I was trying to figure out," Olie says innocently.
"Don't." I point a finger at her. I don't think I could ever get over the mortification of Mrs Holmes being in on my matters of, as Olie put it, "love and bedroom". Especially not with the memory of my late-night adventure with Liam on the Ice Arenas yet so fresh on my mind.
"Could you two help me put the groceries away?" Mrs Holmes asks.
"Yes," I'm quick to reply.
"I'd rather not," Olie whines.
I get up, pulling her to stand with me. "Don't be a chaotically evil brat."
She narrows her eyes at me. "You know what would cure that sourness in you, Eli?"
"Don't."