“Fuck no.” He looks over at me, his face relaxing. “Seriously, man, she’s fine. I wouldn’t let anybody hurt Laney. But I don’t envy you.”
My hackles go up instantly. “What does that mean?” I ground out.
“It means,” he starts, thinking about his next words carefully, “you wanted to see Laney, I’m taking you to Laney. Ain’t never been in love, thank fuck, but I can’t just do nothing. I’m just not made up like that. You do love her, right?”
“More than anything,” my mouth answers on its own.
“Thought so,” he sighs, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “We’re headed to Dane’s house. She’s there.”
My stomach rolls over and I wipe my hands down my face, hoping to squash the nausea. “Why?” I manage to ask.
Sawyer turns and gives me a dumbfounded look. “Why you think? You been away from her what, five, six months? She went on, Evan. She’s fucking hot.” He chuckles. “Sorry, man. But hell, she is, and cool, and real. Dane noticed. We all noticed, but those two clicked.”
Clicked? Laney doesn’t “click” with other guys. Laney doesn’t care about guys and their pathetic come-ons. Right? My breathing is erratic at best. I quickly roll down my window, needing some fresh air, stat. We don’t speak again and soon pull up in the driveway of a mansion. Fucker.
Palms sweaty, I take two swipes before getting the door open. My steps to the door feel like they’re taken with cinder blocks for shoes and despite spastic swallowing, my mouth is ashy. Sawyer reaches out to ring the doorbell as I shove my hands deep in my pockets, not wanting anyone to see them shake. The girl I recognize as Laney’s roommate answers the door, her eyes widening when she realizes who I am.
“H-Hey, Sawyer...Evan?” she stutters.
“Hey, Ben, go get Laney, would ya?” Thank God Sawyer’s able to speak, cause I sure as hell can’t.
Despite my head, my heart bounces and my breath catches as she comes around the corner. My princess, long blonde hair damp, beautiful body clad in silky pj pants and a tank top, walks towards me with surprise in her eyes. She chews her bottom lip and looks to Sawyer first. “Thought you went to your parents’ house?”
“Cut it short; Kirby got on my nerves.” He shrugs and opens his arms for her hug, but she doesn’t give it.
“I didn’t realize you were coming.” Her eyes narrow at him.
“I told Dane,” he says firmly.
She nods at him before closing her eyes and sucking in a deep breath. When she opens them, she meets my gaze dead on. “Hey, Evan,” she whispers.
“Hey.” I clear my throat loudly. “Surprise.”
She smiles, but it falls instantly. “Evan, I—” she shudders and stops, Dane moving in behind her, wrapping his arm possessively around her waist.
My eyes move to where their bodies connect, searing, before I look back at her. The chocolate brown symbols of my existence are filled with tears, begging to spill. They tell me everything I need to know, answering every question I can’t ask out loud. I shake my head, dismissing the flashing image of my happily ever after nose-diving and bursting in flames. She isn’t sick. She’s with Dane. With Dane. I lost. I left, and I lost.
I feel like I’m being gutted with a dull knife. I did a lot of things wrong, things I’m ashamed of, but I never gave my heart to another. My heart always waited for her and I took for granted that hers would do the same. With the last shred of strength and dignity I have left, I rip the shiny envelope from my back pocket. “Merry Christmas, princess,” I muster, shoving it into her hand.
In it, my transfer slips. I walked away from UGA and a full scholarship to sit the bench for a year of ineligibility at Southern...to be with her. I can’t change it now. I’ve been released; I’m as good as at Southern. When she opens it, will she come back to me? If she does, will it be for the right reasons? Would I ever know for sure?
“Evan, I—” her voice calls and then fades.
I don’t turn back to look. I’ll never know if she tried to come after me, Dane pulling her back, or she just let me keep walking. I don’t know if she’s crying or sighing in relief.
Sawyer falls into step beside me and throws his arm over my shoulder. “You a drinker?”
“Not really,” I mumble. “Wanna be?”
“Fuck yes.”
“Thought so,” he chuckles, banging his hand on the hood. “Get in, bro, I’ll find ya a cure.”
I doubt it.
Look for Book Two, Evan’s story, coming Fall 2013!
Here’s a sneak peek!
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Chapter One
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Evan
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