More Than Imagined

Chapter 20

Peering around the corner, Eli spotted Rhoawyn entering her room. He approached her door, knuckles heavy from hanging in the stillness of the air for so long. He wanted to knock, but he didn't want to seem desperate. Desperate for a training partner. Desperate for a chance to see her after being apart for the mission. Desperate for a friend. For something more. For Rhoawyn. But Winfrey was still on edge about their last mission, so desperate or not, here he was.

He knocked twice, then startled at the heaviness of the sound that oddly resembled the weight of the lump in his throat. He knocked again—in soft apology—wondering why something as simple as knocking on a door had become so complicated. But who was he kidding? This wasn't just any door. It was her door. His annoying little squirrel's door. The one who had skittered into the worst parts of his emotions—the caring, colorful, longing parts—and set up shop. Maybe I should start calling her little weasel instead?

The door opened and the first thing he saw is a ripple of dark curls peeking through the crack. It was so different from Rhoawyn's usual high-pulled hairstyle that he stared. He didn't mean to. But like everything else between them, it just happened. Happened to catch him off guard. Happened to stutter the natural thrum of his heart. Happened to wipe whatever teases might have been forming on his tongue. Happened to steal his thoughts and apparently even the ability to decipher sound because he missed the words Rhoawyn was saying to him.

"... 's Up?"

He blinked, trying to refocus his gaze and realign himself with a reality that isn't so helplessly captivated by her.

"Up? What's up?" Eli asked, confused. A fault of his own.

"Yeah, what's up?" Rhoawyn asked again, brows borrowing as she leaned closer to the door for phantom protection. She must expect he had bad news. Perhaps about the mission, or something worse. He didn't blame her, she had been a little out of the loop because of how things turned out with her manifestation—or lack thereof.

"Did something happen?" She questioned once more, as Eli tried to wade through the haze of his thoughts and form a proper sentence. He snapped out of his stupor.

"Oh, No. Nothing's wrong, little squirrel. Nothing happened. I just..." he trailed off, gliding the palms of his hands down the dark of his pants to clear them of some sweat prickling to the surface. What is with this? Sweaty hands are for the nervous—the not-so-charmings of the world. It's just Rhoawyn. Just your little squirrel. Stop being weird. Eli hadn't been this dysfunctional since...

Rhoawyn slid the door open a little wider—welcoming—and the gentle curve of her lips lifted into a smile. Eli had to look away, afraid he'll get lost in trying to figure out when he started liking that smile so much. So, his eyes traveled downward. Away from her face. To her feet. She was still dressed in her combat gear, but one of her boots was unlaced.

"Nothing's wrong, huh? You just thought you should come and bang on my door at 3 am?" Rhoawyn teased, the chirp of her voice stroking his every nerve-ending into flutter. "I could have been sleeping you know?"

Funny, she says that after I just watched her walk in here. But I shouldn't admit to that out loud...

She spotted him looking down, probably curious why the ground had become so interesting, and notices his gaze was glued to her unlaced boot. She kneeled down to tie it, and Eli thought himself caught. Doing what? He was not so sure, but the feeling rising in him was unsettling. Foreign yet familiar. He didn't want to admit it, but he may or may not have acted this way when he first realized his feelings for Cienna. He couldn't stop his hand from scratching at the back of his neck. The awkward movement somehow put him more at ease.