Golden: A Paranormal Romance

by Ellis Marie

  I don’t realise how true the words are until Mrs. Grenway’s hand comes out and covers my leg, her frail fingers squeezing it comfortingly.

  “How are you, dear?” she asks with real concern in her voice.

  “I’m alright,” I answer, enclosing my hand in hers. “Some days are just harder than others.” She nods at my answer knowingly and my heart sinks. “How are you, Mrs. Grenway?”

  The old woman sighs, her tired eyes giving away how sad she truly is, and her bony hands run through her thinning white hair unsteadily.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” she assures. “I’m a pensioner. There’s always something wrong with my health, just depends what day it is!” she says in a joking manner; however, I can see the truth behind it. She’s ill and refuses to tell me what’s going on. She always just says it’s a cold, or that she’s just tired but the medicine that sits stocked up in her cabinet is a hint to something much more serious. I have never pushed her to tell me though, if she just needed me there to escape sometimes, then I would be that—whatever she wanted. The woman deserves all the respect and love in the entire world.

  “We need to find you a young boy toy. That’ll give you a spring in your step.” I wink, and she bursts out laughing, shaking her head at my joke while rolling her eyes.

  “I think I just need you to keep me young,” she replies, a warm smile directed at me and my heart swells in happiness.

  I’m glad I could do something for her.

  We sit and chat for a little while, eating some of the brownies, which Obi sits and begs for, ignoring the orders to go away. I tell her about Kristie and the upcoming auditions she has for the school performances. The two of them get along great; Kristie often accompanies me on visits if Matt isn’t around.

  Mrs. Grenway tells me stories from her book club and the gossip about the other elderly people in the area. Apparently, there has been a scandal at a certain book club, which resulted in a woman being banned from going.

  Perhaps, I need to start attending; it’s top-tier entertainment.

  “Now, where is that boyfriend of yours? I haven’t heard him come screaming down the street in a few days,” she asks after we’ve stopped laughing at a story about two of her friends getting caught doing something naughty in the local park.

  She says it lightly, but I know that she’s making a dig at Matt and his driving. On multiple occasions, he had almost knocked her or Obi over and she wasn’t letting it go, no matter how much he begrudgingly apologised to her.

  “He’s on a boat trip with some friends.”

  Her eyes narrow at me, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. “And you weren’t invited?”

  “The boat belongs to Tracey.”

  Mrs. Grenway makes a sound akin to a hiss from the back of her throat, her lip snarling up in distaste. I giggle at her reaction to the name.

  “Honestly, that girl is as awful as her grandmother used to be. It must just run in the family.”

  Although Mrs. Grenway isn’t from here, she knows the town well. She used to pick me up from kindergarten with my grandmother a lot and the two of them would often complain about Tracey’s grandmother and her snooty stare. When my grandmother died, she took over the role on her own.

  “You know, if that boy didn’t fight for you to be there and left you behind, then he really isn’t good enough for you. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.” She grips my arm and makes me look at her, her olive eyes serious. “Find someone who knows your worth.”

  At her words, I can’t stop the thoughts of Trent invading my mind and her eyes flick down to my cheeks, alerting me to the fact that I’m most definitely blushing. She sinks back into her seat with a smirk on her lips.

  “Or perhaps you have already found someone else?” Her tone isn’t accusing or disappointed; it sounds hopeful, as if she’s thrilled to hear that my eye has been caught by someone other than my boyfriend.

  “You told me you didn’t have gossip.”

  Or maybe she just likes gossip.

  “There isn’t anyone,” I state, rolling my eyes. She scoffs.

  “Annabelle Rose Williams, don’t you dare lie to me.”

  Her use of my full name makes me grin. Even though I hated anyone else calling me Annabelle, I couldn’t ask her to call me anything else. I tried when I was younger, but she quickly scolded me and informed me that I was given a name for a reason, and I should be proud of it. Despite the fact that my father used it too.

  “If you don’t tell me, then I’m never letting you back in that door,” she sings, sipping her tea. I can’t help but chuckle, giving in.

  “His name is Trent,” I begin, and her eyes light up in excitement. “He’s from East Bay, but obviously, their high school merged with ours because of the fire. You know they still haven’t found out who—”

  “Stop trying to change the subject, young lady, and tell me about this, no doubt, handsome man.”

  I curse when she doesn’t fall for the change of topic, and she grins smugly at me. I look down at Obi as I watch him sleep, unable to look at her while I talk.

  “He’s very charming and very sweet. I think everyone is scared of him because of how he looks and acts sometimes, but it’s like I see a different side to him whenever we’re together.”

  The words begin to tumble out of me as I finally just say everything that I’ve been keeping pent up for days.

  “He is sarcastic and flirty, and he loves to make me blush. He’s smart too. I haven’t seen him in one lower class, and he always seems to be paying attention, no matter what the subject is. He’s polite and caring, his friends seem to adore him and he’s such a leader. He’s confident and knows how to make you hang onto his every word. My knees just want to buckle whenever he smiles at me. I almost kissed him last night, but he stopped me, so there’s no point in even trying because clearly, he’s just being nice and I’m getting the wrong signal. I’ve already embarrassed myself once. I can’t do it again and Matt would kill me.”

  I take a deep breath, halting my words as I try to process everything that’s just come out of my mouth. When I look at Mrs. Grenway, she is watching me with knowing eyes and a huge grin on her lips.

  “Does your heart hurt around him? Do tingles run up your spine when he touches you?” she asks. I’m shocked at how accurate she’s being. “Is it like when you first met him, you knew your life was going to change?”

  I nod slowly, which only seems to make her even happier.

  “Oh, Annabelle.” She sighs, taking my hand. “You are going to be so happy, I promise.”

  I frown at her words, confused by what she means. My mind is attempting to figure out what she knows and how she knows it.

  How does she know how I felt? How is she able to explain exactly what I feel?

  “Can I ask something?” she says, pulling me out of my thoughts and I nod hesitantly. “This Trent boy, is he about six feet four with tattoos, dark hair, and sometimes enjoys wearing a leather jacket?”

  My mouth pops open at her description. “Do you know him?” I gasp, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

  She shakes her head, and I sink back into my seat, the adrenaline flying out of my system.

  “I don’t know him,” she answers. I rub my eyes with my fingers, trying to calm down my breathing. “However, I can see him walking up to the front door of your house.”

  Before I can register what’s happening, I’m throwing myself off the couch and towards the window, which looks out onto our street. My hands flail as I try not to drop the cup of tea I’m holding.

  “What?!” I scream in shock, watching his figure walking up the path to my home with his hands deep in his pockets and his steps slow. “What is he doing here?”

  I try to push down the feeling of happiness at seeing him here. I can’t help but want to see him all the time, and the surprise visit means that maybe he has something to say to me. Mrs. Grenway joins me at the window, her glasses now perched on her nose. She follows my
gaze, finding him pretty quickly. It’s hard not to when he looks totally out of place surrounded by small suburban homes.

  “Oh my! I was correct, he is attractive,” she whispers and then frowns. “Is your father in?”

  Immediately, my excitement changes to horror as I press my face to the window and see the familiar beat-up, silver car in the driveway. Trent seems to see it, too, because his legs pause. He hesitates at it as if deciding whether or not to go to the door.

  “I need to stop him,” I groan, knowing full well that if Trent rings that doorbell and speaks to my father, things would not be good for me or for him. No doubt my father would be unbelievably rude to him and then I would face his wrath when I return home, the questioning would be relentless.

  It had been the same last year when I left my jacket at an after-school study session and Cam came over to give it back to me. My father had basically shouted in his face before snatching the jacket off him and slamming the door, his anger quickly coming after me and the apparent ‘sleeping around’ that I had been partaking in.

  “He’s almost at the door!” Mrs. Grenway announces, interrupting my daydream. I almost scream. “Go! Go!” she urges, pushing me towards the front door. I quickly take off, jumping over Obi as I rush out of the house with my stomach twisting at the thought of him ringing the doorbell.

  As soon as I’m outside, I quickly look for him. I see him only a step or two away from the entrance, his eyes zeroed in on the doorbell.

  “Trent!” I shout and then immediately flinch as I scan the house, hoping my father didn’t hear me. “Trent!” I call again in a more forced whisper-type shout. He whips his head around in surprise, finding me straight away.

  “Elle?” he questions, his eyes flicking back to the door he’s standing at and then back to me. “Am I at the wrong house?”

  He takes a few steps back from it and begins walking over to me. I feel relief flow through me as he joins me on the grass.

  Close call.

  “That is my house,” I explain with a shaking voice as my chest rises and falls rapidly. “But I’m over at my neighbour’s and my father is sleeping so I didn’t want you to wake him by ringing the doorbell.”

  The lie slips out of my mouth so easily that even I believe it. I mean, it is slightly true; he is most likely passed out.

  Trent winces, raising his arm to beside his head and his hand ruffles the back of his hair briefly with an apologetic expression clear on his face.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be an issue.” His tone makes my breath stop in my throat. I suddenly remember that the last time I saw him, I had left him standing at the lake with tears streaming down my face and the car pulling away.

  He’s standing in his usual black and white attire. When my eyes land on his leather jacket, I want nothing more than for it to be wrapped around my shoulders again; its smell invading my senses.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asks, and I shrug in response. “Look, Elle, I want to talk to you about what happened last night.”

  I quickly look away from him and shrug again, my feet already retreating backwards. “There’s nothing to talk about. I was high,” I state, trying to brush off his pleading look. “We can just forget about it.”

  He frowns, stepping forward as he reaches his hand out. “I don’t want to forget about it.”

  Blood rushes through my ears, and it takes everything in me to remember to breathe.

  “Well, I do,” I lie, turning away from him and walking up the path back to Mrs. Grenway’s front door. My hurried steps almost trip me up. I hear his footsteps follow me onto the hard stone just as I take the first step up onto her porch. His hand grabs mine, halting my retreat.

  “Please don’t run away from me,” he murmurs quietly, and I turn back to look at him. “Please, can we just talk?”

  “Trent,” I mumble, turning back to him and his hand pulls me in a little, my body moving forward as my feet reach the edge of the step. Our fingers intertwine, and it’s like my limbs are pulsing in response.

  As he’s still on the ground, his head is almost level with my own and I can see straight into his eyes as they shine at me, begging me to listen to him. I have to resist the urge to wrap my hands around his neck and play with the soft hair hanging off it.

  “Don’t push me away,” he whispers. His finger circles the bone in my wrist as he talks, his eyes never leaving my face.

  My own eyes, however, glance over to my house. I quickly rip my hand from his, stepping up another step as if I have to physically put some distance between us. My father could look out at any time.

  “I’m not,” I reply, my voice thick. “I just need to go back to my neighbour’s. I don’t want to leave her, it’s rude.”

  Trent’s eyebrows pull together slightly and the hopeful look in his eyes dies. He drops his hand back to his side before slipping it into his pocket and rocking back on his feet.

  “I understand,” he mumbles, beginning to turn away with his eyes downcast. “I’ll see you at school . . . maybe.”

  He doesn’t say it in a horrible way. Instead, it’s as if he’s devastated. I want nothing more than to reach out and pull him back to me, but I refrain.

  “Bye, Elle.” His parting words twist my stomach, and as he begins to walk back down the path, I can’t help how my hand reaches out and the shout that accompanies it.

  “Trent!” I call, making his head whip around so fast that I can almost feel the whiplash. “I—”

  “Hello!” a voice behind me interrupts, the front door swinging open along with it. “Why are you two standing on the porch? Come inside, lovebirds!”

  I choke on my words, my eyes bulging as I glare at Mrs. Grenway, who stands with a satisfied smirk on her face and an apron tied around her waist, which I have most definitely never seen her wearing before.

  “Young man, I don’t believe we have met. My name is Mrs. Grenway.” She nods at him and I watch him smile back, walking back to the bottom of the steps.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Trent,” he replies with a warm smile and my legs turn to jelly at the words.

  Ma’am.

  “Mrs. Grenway,” I cough out. “Trent was just—”

  “Now, you wouldn’t want to say no to one of your elders, would you, Annabelle?” she questions innocently. “It would be rude. Have you lost your manners?”

  I gape at the old lady in front of me.

  That conniving little devil, she heard us talking.

  “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” she asks, turning to Trent as he takes another step up onto the porch. His body almost presses against mine and the heat overtakes me immediately, making it difficult to concentrate on being annoyed. Even from the small distance, I can smell the deep smoky scent radiating off him.

  I’m most definitely addicted.

  “I would love to, Mrs. Grenway,” he replies. She claps her hands together in excitement, her eyes gleaming with success.

  “Perfect! You two can go into the living room. Annabelle knows where it is, and I will make a fresh brew of tea!”

  With that, she disappears back into the house. She’s humming an old song, no doubt one by Frank Sinatra—her favourite artist. I’m left standing alone with the boy who makes me question everything that I know. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I need to be strong, I need to stay focused and not let myself slip up again like last night.

  I glance at Trent who is standing in silence, his eyes scanning my face as he waits patiently for me to move.

  It is going to be difficult.

  “I don’t have to come inside,” he offers, but I can tell he’s only doing it for my benefit. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  He honestly has no idea what he does to me.

  “She’ll kill me if you leave,” I joke with a sigh, beginning to cross the wood. “Just follow me.”

  I’m going to kill that old lady.

  “It’s in here,” I grumble, thinking
of ways in which I can tell off Mrs. Grenway without offending her.

  Trent chuckles and I don’t have to turn around to know he is only a step behind me, it’s like my body has a radar for him.

  “She seems funny.” He laughs and my back tingles at the sound of it. “How long have you known her?”

  I enter the room, resuming my seat on the couch and I motion for him to take the one across from it.

  “My whole life,” I answer. “She and her husband, Ernie, were friends with my grandmother.”

  The smile on Trent’s lips falters a little and I curse myself for saying that. I told him about my grandmother last night, but I only just remembered now. It isn’t something I usually shared with people. By the look on his face, I can tell that he is about to ask me something and I almost cry in relief when Obi comes bounding into the living room with his legs running straight at me as he crashes into the side of me and perches himself on my lap, his usual greeting being repeated.

  “This is Obi,” I introduce to Trent, attempting to move my head out of the way of his tongue, but it just makes him snuggle into the side of my neck instead. “He thinks he’s still a puppy even though he weighs about fifty kilos and is an old man.”

  “He likes you,” Trent comments. As he does, Obi stops his movements and gets down from me. His body shakes with growls as he turns to look at Trent, backing up defensively in front of me. Trent looks at him with a bored expression, rolling his eyes. “Me, not so much apparently.”

  I sit gobsmacked at Obi as I prod his side with a finger. “Obi!” I scold, trying to grab his attention through his growls. “Obi, no! Trent is a friend, be nice.” I stroke his head, trying to calm him down, but all it makes him do is press himself into me more. “I’m really sorry, Trent. He isn’t usually like this.”

  What is wrong with him? He never growls.

  Trent shrugs and slides off the sofa, getting down to his knees in front of the growling dog and my heart thumps a little in fear.

  I trust Obi; he’s the sweetest dog I’ve ever known but he’s never acted like this before, and I’m terrified that he is going to hurt Trent.