𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

6

"And when you click right here, it pops up, and you put your head in."

My dad is explaining to me how to work the newest technology his team has made, the one and only, Neurock. It's shaped like a helmet, and when you put it on, sound waves knock you into a trance. Like virtual reality, a simulator; a dream that has you entering a completely different dimension, seeing, hearing, feeling, and smelling everything.

I don't usually pay attention to Dad's new toys, but this one has me intrigued, so much that I have been sitting with him for the past three hours, listening carefully, watching him show me how to work the contraption, even though I've been warned to keep my hands off. Doing it alone is extremely dangerous and a health risk as the magnetic sound waves are powerful enough to fry your brain.

Lovely.

He continues to explain that with this advanced type of virtual reality, your deepest, darkest desires that are forbidden in real life, can be awoken.

I catch Eric glancing at me, looking away almost instantly.

What?

Mum raises a brow at me.

I refuse to use it in case I get thrown into a nightmare, or worse, but my mum does it, and soon after, she pulls my dad out of the room, vanishing.

It's a disgusting sight.

Eric has been sitting in the corner of the office, tapping on his tablet for the last hour. Belinda keeps me company, talking about a new recipe she formulated that can make cakes taste like actual cakes.

She's not very happy, when I tell her everything that Eric had shown me about Robbie, she struggles to hide her rage, and it takes a lot of begging from me, making her promise not to tell my father when I explain the way he acted when I confronted him.

I'm very aware of the earwigger in the corner, raising his head every two minutes when I mention how Robbie had reacted.

I can be honest with her; I can tell her anything and feel comfortable about it. We're close that way.

She rubs my arms, giving me a warm smile, and cleans up the table, slapping my hand as I try to help her.

I slouch back on the chair, watching Eric, still buried in the tablet. My parents are nowhere to be seen, and Belinda has retreated to her favourite place—the kitchen.

I absentmindedly explore the entirety of Eric; his strong facial features, the jawline that looks like it could give me a paper cut, the lashes that have me hating him even more with their length and thickness. His bottom lip is securely between his teeth as he concentrates on whatever he's doing. My eyes trail down his sculpted arms, his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and I pull away from my gaze as he clears his throat.

What was I just doing?

I've been touch-starved for weeks, I'm going to put it down to my hormones screaming out for—

"We need to leave soon," Eric blurts out, knocking me from my inappropriate thoughts. "You can't walk back without me and I have a meeting."

"Watching naked girls on your bed isn't a meeting," I retort, crossing my arms as a smirk plays on his lips, eyes still on the tablet. "And I'm not ready to leave, so you can hold back on your little voyeuristic ways to wait until I want to go home."

"Voyeuristic ways," he repeats my words, finally looking at me with a raised brow. "Meaning?"

I tilt my head. "You know exactly what I mean," I say, sitting up straight. "Every Saturday night, at exactly nine, the same two girls show up and you watch them."