Desolation (New Rochelle Mafia #1)

3. CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

ELODIE

D rake Bianchi is watching me from a booth in the back of the diner. He has an odd look on his face. Trying hard to concentrate on filling bottles and wrapping silverware, I avoid eye contact. He makes me nervous. I can’t explain why, but a part of me knows that if I were to ever give in to those feelings, my whole life would change. The anxiety that it gives me is hard to deal with. Obviously, I need a different life, but that terrifies me. My life is already bad enough that I don’t want to risk making it worse.

He’s beautiful. Tall, like six foot two or so, blond curly hair, crystalline blue eyes that seem to look right into my soul. Not that I want him to see what’s there. He’s gotten some new tattoos since I saw him last. With his sleeves rolled up I can see them peeking out, wrapping around his arms and up his chest, the top of them visible through the collar of his shirt. Built like a swimmer with wide shoulders and a slim waist. Something about him draws me in like a moth to a flame. Always has.

Taking a few deep breaths, I try to calm myself. The last thing I need is a panic attack today. I had one less than a week ago on the way home from school. Sometimes, just thinking about what I might have to deal with when I get home causes me to have one. My fight or flight clicks into place and the next thing I know, I’m sitting up against a building trying to breathe.

We don’t have any money for therapy, not that my parents would ever do that anyway. They would be too scared they would go to jail with the things I could say about them. Logically, I know I need it. But I could never. The thought of ever having to tell anyone what I’ve been through in my life makes me sick to my stomach.

How do you tell a stranger that your parents beat you, or hurt you in other ways? How do you tell anyone that, knowing that if you do, you could literally lose your life because their dealer is in the mafia? I’m terrified enough of Dominic, their dealer, as it is. If he ever thought I said anything about him, no one would ever find me.

He watches me too, although not the same way that Drake does. When Drake watches me, it feels like a soft caress on my skin. When Dominic watches me, it makes me feel oily and dirty, and in instant need of a shower. I do my best to avoid going home if his car is in the driveway.

Since I can’t do therapy, I read these books on how to breathe during panic attacks, and how to recognize the symptoms when one is coming on. I’m not great at it. Sometimes it takes me way longer than it should to calm myself. But it’s better than collapsing in the middle of the street in my neighborhood. Shuddering, I can only imagine what would happen if I were to do that and Dominic found me, or some other creeper.

I actually like my job at the diner. The lady who runs it, Reba, looks out for me. She always tells me which tables will give the best tips. It’s become a game she and I play. Not once has she ever asked me about my home life, but sometimes I catch her looking at me in a way that tells me she knows. Maybe she does, I don’t think her life has been easy either. Kindred spirits and all that.

She always makes sure I eat a good meal before I go home though. One day, she came to me and asked me if I had a safe place to keep my tips. I hesitated, but shook my head no. The next day, she took me to the office and handed me a small key, opening the drawer in the bottom of the desk. She showed me a small safe and told me to keep whatever I needed inside, that it was just mine. Tearing up, I opened the safe and also found a small cell phone. Looking at her in confusion she said, “Keep it here or take it with you, it’s up to you, but if you ever need someone, it has my number programmed inside it. Call me, no matter what time or when and I will come.” Thinking of it now, I remember her words clearly…

“I’m not going to ask any questions, because I don’t think you’ll answer anyway. But I recognize that look in your eyes. The one that says you are trapped and looking for a way out. I used to have that same look when I was your age. I didn’t have anyone I could turn to, and I couldn’t get away for a long time. You have an option, and I can’t do much, but I can get you away if you need it. You’re a sweet girl Elodie, and whatever is happening, it isn’t your fault,” she said to me.

Shaking my head to rid it of the memories, I feel grateful for Reba. I have an option for help if I need it and I hang onto that feeling. I don’t know if I’ll ever ask for help, but it is nice to know that at least one person out there gives a shit what happens to me besides Ms. Bates.

Someone clears their throat and I look up to see Drake standing in front of me. Looking up at him, I know my eyes are wide as saucers because he has never approached me this way. Sure, we’ve said hi here and there in the halls, and talked every once in a while, at school. But he isn’t someone I would call a friend. I’ve always just admired him from a distance.

“Hey Elodie, do you mind if I sit for a sec?” he asks. Standing there with his hands in his jeans pockets, he looks nervous, shuffling his feet back and forth, like I might say no. Not going to lie, I’m considering it because why? I catch myself slowly nodding at him. Well fuck.

Drake sits down next to me, far enough away that I don’t feel the need to pull away, but still a little too close for my comfort. But he doesn’t speak. Okaaaaaayyyy, what does he want? Just to sit here? This is weird as hell. Feeling my heart start to race, I take a deep breath, and gathering my thoughts, I ask, “Can I help you with something or…?”

“You are probably going to think I’m weird for saying this, but I was just feeling a little antsy and for some reason, I thought sitting by you might calm me a little bit,” he says. “Besides, it’s pretty slow tonight and I thought you might want a little company to pass the time.”

Okay, yeah, that is pretty weird because I’m like the least calm person I know. Which really isn’t saying a lot because I don’t know that many people. “Um, okay,” I say slowly. I feel my hands get sweaty. Now is not the time for a panic attack Elodie. Trying to pep talk myself, I quietly breathe in my nose, and out through my mouth as I wipe my hands on my pants.

“You okay?” he asks. His eyes search my face as if he is looking for the answer. Nodding, I continue to breathe until I feel calm.

“I have panic attacks sometimes. So, it’s a little weird that you feel like it’s calm over here when it really isn’t,” I say with a soft laugh.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry, Elodie. I know we don’t really know each other that well, but in a weird way I feel sorta drawn to you. I want to be friends, if you’d want to,” he says.

Is he insane? I literally just told him I have panic attacks and he wants to be my friend? Am I being pranked right now? Looking around, I try to see if I see anyone hiding or lurking ready to jump out at any moment and say this is all a joke, like that Carrie movie. Hot guy asks a weird girl on a date and then next thing you know she’s covered in pig’s blood at the prom and everyone is laughing at her. Not that Drake asked me on a date. Not that I would ever go if he did.

Drake looks around too, trying to figure out what I’m looking for. The confusion on his face when his eyes come back to mine is palpable. “It’s ok if you don’t want to. I know it’s a little out of the blue. ”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just trying to figure out if I’m being pranked,” I say softly.

“Why would you think that?” he asks, hurt in his eyes.

Shit. Scrubbing my hand down my face, I sigh. I am fucking this all up. “Well, I’m not exactly popular, or rich. You’re both of those things. Basically, I try to stay as invisible as possible, and I honestly don’t know how easy that would be if we became friends. I’m also very certain that we don’t really have anything in common.”

“You might be surprised, and as for the other things, I don’t really care about popularity, or money. In fact, most of the people who say they are my friends, really only hang around me because of the money or what they think I can do for them. Who needs friends like that?” he asks.

Well, he’s got a good point. But friends? Me and Drake? I don’t know.

“I’m not good at this stuff. I usually just stick to myself. Once I graduate, I’m leaving here, and I won’t ever be back,” I say softly.

“All I’m asking for is a chance. If you can’t or won’t give me that, I’ll understand, but I’m not pranking you or being deceitful, El. Besides, I heard you got into NYU and that’s where I go too,” he says.

Oh, we are doing nicknames already? Feeling my face get hot, I dip my head so that my hair hides my face. Drake reaches over, and using one finger, gently slides my hair behind my ear, making my face flame even more.

“Please don’t hide from me, Elodie,” he says.

What is actually happening right now?

“I can’t do this right now,” I whisper. “I have to work. ”

Turning, I walk to the other end of the counter to take a breather and start stacking cups. This whole interaction is weird right? Sneaking a look at him over my shoulder as I run away like a coward, I see him drop his head in his hands, almost as if I hurt his feelings. That can’t be right though. That whole interaction left me feeling very unsure and confused.

Reba comes out and Drake pays for his stuff and leaves, smiling and waving at me as he goes.

I find myself thinking about his touch more than I should have. The gentleness in his moving my hair, almost as if he was afraid I would run, which I did. Why did he have to do that? I’ve spent so much of my life only wanting one thing; to get away from my parents. Then, I found an escape in photography, and my focus has been on that for several years now. I can’t afford to have something else distracting me from my goal. My need to get away from here overshadows everything. This is just a complication I can’t deal with right now.