“Hey yourself, bootyful,” he says with a smirk, obviously quite proud of the newest addition to his ever-growing list of nicknames for me.
I secretly love it and am never disappointed in what he comes up with, silly boy.
Looking around, I don’t see his jacked-up beast of a truck, which is very hard to miss, so I ask him if he needs a ride. He nods and puts out his hand for my keys...as if! “My truck, I’m driving,” I tell him, even though it should go without saying.
“Not a chance, woman. You’re the worst driver I know, especially when you’re mad, and I’d just as soon get home alive. Hand ‘em over.”
“I’m not mad,” I huff, “I’m disappointed in myself...as usual.” I mumble the last part.
“Don’t talk about my girl that way, and don’t make me manhandle you for those keys.” He lunges for me, which I narrowly escape.
Smiling now, despite my mood, I concede and hand him the keys. I simply can’t resist the charms that are so completely Evan; those flirty blue eyes, framed by dark, thick lashes, and his crooked little grin as he spouts off those pet names would test any girl’s resolve. Not to mention, and I never will, but I really am a bad driver. Then again, Evan taught me how to drive, and I take satisfaction in knowing I can use that against him if he gets too cocky about my surrender of the keys.
Driving is one thing, but there’s no way I’m conceding control of the radio; he knows music is my escape. I know he’s going to try and talk about my epic fail, so hopefully he’ll take the hint that it’s the last thing I want to do.
I turn my gaze out my window, thinking about the game, about my dad’s disappointment, but also about nothing at all, when his willpower finally gives out.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks sweetly.
I turn to him, roll my eyes and return my fascination with anything outside my window. The drive to our neighborhood includes a beautiful expanse of land, still untouched by society, nothing but wide open field and dark sky filled with stars. I try to pick out the brightest one, the wishing star, but Evan’s husky voice diverts me.
“It’s not worth beating yourself up about. It was one at-bat, not the end of the world. And yes, he still loves you.”
I hate it when he knows exactly what I’m thinking...or do I?
“Easy for you to say. Every time you walk on the field, you make the whole damn town proud, let alone your dad. And every at-bat I screw up, well, that’s exactly what it is; one more screw up. I’ll probably have to work through college, just to pay them to let me get splinters in my ass.” I say it with a little more bark than he deserves, and I feel somewhat guilty, but sometimes I don’t think he understands.
His scholarship offers have been rolling in for months; mine haven’t. My dad and I live paycheck to paycheck, he can’t afford college for me, and I’ve already been too much of a burden on one parent. A good scholarship is vital to my future.
“Ah, Laney, you’re way too hard on yourself.”
Maybe he’s right, but thankfully we were home, so I don’t have to decide right now.
We only live three houses apart, so Evan parks my truck in my driveway and turns in his seat to look at me, pulling a piece of paper out of his back pocket, his blue gaze a new shade of serious. “I thought you were gonna tell me if this didn’t stop?” he asks, handing me the note. I don’t have to open it really, they’re all the same, but I do anyway. This one says Great game tonight, Laney. You’re amazing.
Who is this freak? Why not just walk up to me and say “Hey, I like you” or “Hey, wanna grab a burger?” Surely it would be less trouble than sneaking around, leaving creepy notes and presents. Maybe we could have had a normal friendship before it got weird.
At first, I’d just thought it was a cute secret admirer, especially since we were so young when it started, but now we’re adults and it’s creepy. Evan begs me all the time to tell my dad, but there are some things you just don’t tell the single father of an only daughter; he would stage a manhunt. One promise I’ve always made to Evan, that I will keep, is if there’s ever a threatening tone to the notes or a personal encounter, I’ll report it immediately.
I sigh, not really wanting to talk about this now. “It’s been a while since the last one so there was nothing to tell you. Besides, you found it, not me. I don’t suppose you saw anything?”
He just gives me that “really, Laney?” look. Of course he hadn’t seen anyone; they’d still be lying in the parking lot, beaten to a pulp, if he had. “Alright, well, make sure you stay alert, Laney. I can’t always be there and I worry about you.”
“I know, Ev, I will.”
We climb out of the truck and he grabs my stuff out of the back for me, tossing my keys with a “heads up.” After we hug, the way we always say goodbye, he heads to his house, walking slowly, of course, always making sure I get inside okay. He calls over his shoulder on the breeze, “night,” to which I smile and give a small wave, knowing I’ll talk to him again at least once before going to sleep.