Ghosts that Watch Us

17

He filled the tub slowly, water hot and steaming over his face. The blood on his knee was beginning to scab, the long streaks of it drying stickily on his shin. And he was trembling, teeth chattering loudly in the thick air of his bathroom. From the cold, from anger, from embarrassment. From remnant tremors of his pleasure. He covered his eyes with one hand, still in disbelief. 

“You damn fool,” he whispered, fresh tears gathering.

It had taken him almost a half hour to arrive home, limping around the silent buildings, Sean's c*m still sticky between his thighs. He hoped against hope that no one would cross his path, see him in his disheveled state. And apart from one or two people sprinting through the cold to dart into doorways, he saw no one. He had some time yet before his afternoon class, time to clean himself up and patch his knee. And tend to his wounded pride and confused heart.

The look on Sean’s face was scorched behind his eyelids, so that Ellory saw him every time he blinked, first the easy mirth opening his features, and then the suspended shock, eyes widening as he got closer to Ellory sprawled on the ground. And then the slack-jawed relief as he came rutting up against Ellory.

Shame and excitement burned his face again, and Ellory ducked his head, even though he was alone in the bathroom. Very slowly, he stepped into the tub and lowered himself, the water enveloping his thighs and buttocks, his waist and chest, until he finally relaxed back against the sloped porcelain, pain lancing up his spine, sore and aching from his spill. Dirt and blood tainted the water, the semen washed away, but he made no move to aid in the cleansing. A deep fatigue settled over his bones, lying there listlessly, the drips of water lulling him into a quiet doze.

The dip in vertigo, the fear and pain as he hit the hard and slippery slant of that blasted hill, Sean’s laughter. His moans.

Ellory’s face crumpled and he curled on his side, the water lapping at his neck, at the hunched curve of his shoulder. His tears were as hot as the water he lay in, and he let them fall, eyes drooping. He felt embryonic, protected by the bubble of warm water and his own near-fetal position. Almost safe. Almost. 

He materialized on a bed, a soft white bed, with white blankets and blue pillows. The walls were light blue and there was light pouring in from the balcony window. Gael stood at the rail, silhouette dark through the gossamer curtains. Ellory sighed and rolled over, watching the ember of a cigarette glow red before dying out, Madrid’s city lights casting him in shadow again.

Ellory spoke his name, too softly for a person in real life to have heard him, but this was a dream. It had to be. Because Gael was gone, left behind where Ellory’s heart was broken, that city of warm breezes and rolling tongues.

Still, Gael turned and snuffed the cigarette on the railing, smiling at Ellory as he pushed past the curtains and jumped on the bed. Ellory laughed as Gael tossed the sheets in the air and dove under, whispering Ellory’s name in Spanish, pulling him closer by the waist. But when the sheets settled and a head popped out, it wasn’t with Gael’s wavy hair, or his hazel eyes. This man had brown hair and the bluest eyes with the thickest lashes and his laugh against Ellory’s neck was deep and rumbling. Ellory froze as lips strayed up his jaw and over to his ear, whispering his name, his English name, voice vibrating over his skin. The moan he heard was his own, fingers sliding up Sean’s shoulders and when Sean drew back and smiled down at him, Ellory smiled, too.

A loud pounding sounded suddenly and Ellory bolted upright, cold water sloshing over the rim of the tub. It was dirty and swimming with chunks of mud, and he blinked around the room, shivering again.

More pounding and he hurried to his feet, stumbling to a towel and drying himself quickly. He chucked his robe on and limped down the hall, his bruised knee smarting with every step.

“Professor?”

Delia’s voice came through his locked front door. He unbolted it and yanked it open.

She stood there in black leggings and a beige cardigan, several sizes too big, maroon scarf and ruffled cap nearly drowning her. But she was lovely and dry, not a disaster like he was.

“Delia,” he croaked, and cleared his throat. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, professor,” she said quietly, eyeing him up and down. “But you? Are you alright? You missed class.”

Shit. He’d fallen asleep and forgotten about his afternoon class. He waved her in and closed the door.

“I’m so sorry, Delia. I fell asleep in the tub.”

She looked around his living room, tracks of dirt leading down the hall and into the bathroom. “What happened? You’re covered in mud.”

He touched his hair and realized he’d never even washed his head or face. He would have to remember to clean his office before Delia was due back there.

With a sigh, he explained how he fell down the hill, his embarrassing sprawl onto the field. He left Sean out of it. Her look of horror probably matched his own after the incident. She ushered him to the sofa and bent over his knee, shaking her head and muttering to herself as she went in search of a bandage.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he called to her, touching the inflamed skin. “I’m just horribly embarrassed.”

“You poor dear,” she said as she sat on the coffee table before him. “The adrenaline probably knocked your circuits loose. Sleep helps put you back in order.” She dabbed at the skin with antibacterial wipes and stuck a bandage over the cut.

“Did anyone see you?”

He felt the flush in his face and couldn’t seem to look her in the eye. The incident, and what happened directly after, was still too fresh in his mind to formulate a believable fib.

She leaned forward. “Who was it, professor?”

He sighed and let his head hang back, bits of dry dirt raining over the cushions. “It was the lacrosse coach. Whatever his name is.”

“Chase’s coach?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “That’s a shame. I hope he doesn’t make fun of you.” She made a face, and Ellory smiled.

“I don’t care anymore if he does.”

He excused himself to rinse off the excess dirt from his hair and face and then changed into jeans and a warm jumper. He still felt sticky and a bit disgusting, but would shower properly before bed. They sat at his kitchen table, two hot mugs of tea before them.

“So class was canceled, then?” he said, stirring in some milk.

Her brows knit together. “Of course not. Why would it be?”

“Well, I wasn’t there. Surely someone reported me missing to administration and they canceled class for today. Who else would have taught for me?”

“I did,” she said, taking a sip.

He did a double take. “You did?”

“Yes, why not? I know your material inside and out. I prepared your notes for this lesson. When you didn’t answer your cell, I walked in and told them all to sit down and pay attention. And I taught it.”

Ellory’s smile grew on his face and he patted her wrist kindly. “You never cease to amaze me, Delia. Thank you.”

Her eyes crinkled and she shrugged delicately, like it wasn’t a big deal. “They’re just undergrads, professor. Nothing I can’t handle.”

They grinned at each other over their mugs and Ellory took a hearty sip. “Goodness, I’m ready to get away for a bit. Even if it will be boiling where we’re going.”

Delia’s face fell and she turned to him in her seat. “Oh, professor. That’s what I also came by to tell you. I won’t be able to go to Mexico with you.”