I want to tell him how wrong he is, but it’s obvious he’s too far down into the tunnel of his own head to listen to any sort of logic, reason, or honest feedback from me. I don’t understand why this particular song has him so stressed out. I don’t think anyone expects it to sound a specific way.
My worry for him heightens as he presses his fingers into his temples, screws his beautiful eyes shut, then strums a myriad of beautiful notes in tune to the nodding of his head, then mumbles something I can’t understand to himself. Sighing, he scribbles some more onto his paper and repeats the process all over again.
It slowly sinks in as I watch him. He expects it to be a certain way. He must be suffering from a self-imposed artist vision of perfection that’s got him all wound up.
When he goes for the vodka again, I reach out and grab the bottle from his hand just before it reaches his lips.
“Evan… I don’t think you should be drinking this. You told me you had problems with alcohol in the past.”
He glares at me, eyes flickering with flames of anger and defiance. “I told you a lot of things.” He yanks the bottle from my hand, and the liquid sloshes around inside. “Don’t get all AA with me, Piper. Leave me alone or just get the hell out of here. Please.”
The venomous tone and nasty words slice through the comforting smile I had forced onto my face, and I slowly rise to my feet, hoping with all hope an apology will quickly chase away the hurt.
“Fine.” My voice shakes with the start of tears when I’m met with deafening silence. “I’ll leave.”
Chewing my thumbnail, I wait for him to look up at me, to ask me not to leave, to pull me down onto the sleeping bag and kiss me senseless, but he’s completely submerged in the song and whatever notes or lyrics he’s fighting a battle with.
“Are you doing drugs?”
The muscles of his narrow jaw tighten, and his tongue sweeps across his lips as he lifts his head to look at me. “No, I’m not. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Evan, that’s not wha—”
“Thought you were leaving.” He turns his attention back to the notepaper, making his feelings very clear.
I grab my purse that’s hanging from one of the hooks that once held a rake, leaving the bag of snacks for him and Acorn on top of the wooden crate we use as a table. I’m still expecting him to stop me when I walk through the door, and I’m sobbing big wet tears and gulping breaths by the time I get into my car and drive away. I swipe my hand across my eyes and peer into the rearview mirror, but the street is still dark and vacant.
Just like Evan’s eyes were tonight.
I toss and turn all night, mad at myself for not trying harder to talk to Evan. In hindsight, I should have handled his bad mood better, been more supportive and less judgy. And now I can’t call him and he can’t call me to talk it over, and I can’t just drive back over there in the middle of the night.
Staring up at my ceiling fan spinning round and round, similar to the carousel of my mind, I wonder if he’s still agonizing over the song. I wonder if he’s drunk. I wonder if he wishes he was on drugs.
I wonder if he regrets not stopping me from leaving as much as I wish I hadn’t left.
The awkwardness of that night and the unconventional inability to call him to find out if he’s okay and to figure out if we’re okay keeps me from going back to see him for days. I have no idea what kind of state he could be in or if he even wants to see me again.
On the third day, I’d possibly give a kidney to find a note in my car, but I find something even better—him. At first, I think I must be hallucinating as I walk across the office parking lot toward my car. I blink at the vision of him leaning against the hood, wearing a black sweater and leather jacket I’ve never seen on him before. His long hair blowing away from his face in the autumn breeze makes him look like an edgy model on the cover of a rock magazine, exuding confidence and dripping sensuality. When his face lights up with a smile, all my doubts fade away, and I know we’re okay. I know he’s okay.
“Sorry about the other night,” he says when I’m close enough for him to pull me into his arms. “I was having a bad day.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“Do you have any plans?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“I do.” He flashes me a cocky grin and takes my car keys from my hand.
“I guess you’re driving?” I tease, going up on my toes to kiss his cheek.
He slaps my ass playfully. “Get in.”
I’m excited when he drives down Main Street, away from town, and turns onto a favorite road of mine that’s home to old farmhouses that still raise horses, cows, and chickens. Many of them have farm stands set up on the side of the road.
“Come over here and kiss me.” With just a few words, he’s got my heart racing and my mood soaring.
Smiling, I lean across the seat and quickly press my lips to his. Before I can lean back, he touches my leg just below the hem of my skirt.
“You’re wearing new lipstick.”
I love that he notices little things like this. “It’s called Raspberry Razzle Dazzle. I mostly bought it for the name, but now I kinda like the color.”
The callus on his finger snags on my black stockings as he inches his hand farther under my skirt.
“I want your lips on me.” He glances at me, then back to the road. “I want you to suck me.”
“Now?”
I watch in shock as he unbuttons his jeans then pulls the zipper down, using his knee to keep the car straight on the road. My eyes take in the thick bulge straining against his faded black boxers.
“Isn’t this dangerous?” I ask as I turn my body toward him.
“Unless a cow jumps in front of us or you bite me, we’re fine, babe.” He grasps my thigh and pulls me closer. “C’mon, beautiful.”
Throwing caution out the window, I push his jeans and boxers down just far enough for me to grab his hard cock and bow my head between him and the steering wheel. The moment I take him into my mouth, he moans and slides his free hand all the way up my skirt. After he rips through my thin nylon stockings, the burst of cool air between my legs is quickly followed by the warmth of his hand as he moves his fingers between my lips.
I suck him harder as he thrusts a finger inside me, and I hope he doesn’t get distracted enough to crash the car. I don’t want to be found dead in a mangled mess with my head wedged into the steering wheel and a cock in my mouth. My parents would be horrified. Ditra would be impressed, though.
His cock grows harder and hotter, pulsing against my tongue, and the thrust of his hips toward my face sends waves of erotic excitement through me. Nothing turns me on more than his moans and sighs, his dirty talk, and the way his body reacts to my touch. As I wrap my lips tighter around his shaft, he pushes two fingers into me and rubs his thumb against my clit, touching it with just the perfect amount of pressure. I drag my lips and tongue up to the tip of his cock. He lets go of the steering wheel to fist my hair and pushes me back down, holding me there with his cock rammed against the back of my throat, followed by spurts of hot cum.
Still holding my hair, he pulls my head up and kisses me before letting me fall back onto the passenger seat. I’m still trying to catch my breath as I kick off my shoes and wiggle out of my ruined stockings. Then I pull my skirt back down and try to compose myself.
“I don’t know how to love you, Piper,” he says roughly. “But I know I love you a little more every day.”
I turn to look at him with tears brimming in my eyes because his words are masked with so much sadness and regret, my heart hurts.
“Love doesn’t have rules, Blue. The way you love me is perfect. And I love you. That’s all that matters.”
The click of his tongue piercing against his teeth is his only response, and that’s okay. Our love may be unexpected and flawed, but it’s ours. That’s all that matters.
What I see before me sucks the breath right out of my lungs. We hardly spoke on the way back into town, other than deciding on what to get at the drive-thru burger place.