Chapter 6 #2
Sunsets in Malibu rival those I love at Blue Lake and today is no exception.
As the fiery orb makes its final descent into the sea, a breeze sweeps over my skin, swirling strands of hair across my face.
I shiver. With the increasing darkness, the temperature drops.
I didn’t think to bring a sweater. When I feel the first chill, I tell myself I’ll be warm as soon as Julian shows up.
He doesn’t show. I stand and dust the sand off my shorts, ready to trek back up the stairs to Ashley’s.
Whatever editing Callie needed him for, it’s taking longer than he said it would.
I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I’m sulking.
The whole thing is magnifying how much I don’t know what I’m doing with my life—except living his.
Granted, I’ve been learning and loving all things fitness and thinking about where it might lead me.
I can see myself making a satisfying career out of it on some level.
Maybe not doing exactly what Allie, Julian and Ashley are doing, but I know I could add my own qualities to the mix.
I’ve even had the small hint of an idea forming lately about what I might contribute.
I’m just not ready to voice it yet, and considering my simmering annoyance, I can’t even summon those kinds of future thoughts.
I’m pissed, and I admit, I don’t want to calm down.
My irrational anger and I stomp up the steps in near complete darkness.
As I approach the back slider, I can see all three of them, Allie, Ashley and Julian, talking in the kitchen, and my anger ignites into full-blown fury.
The small, sensible voice telling me to calm down is extinguished by the neon-green resentment and jealousy.
I feel like the supporting character in someone else’s life.
And haven’t I always been? Staying out of the way.
Doing what was expected. Never making waves.
Tasting what it felt like to be the star of the show only spotlighted my feelings.
This doesn’t feel like my life. It feels like Julian’s, and I’m along for the ride.
I want to sneak past them and hide in my room, but my evil twin slams the slider and stalks past them without a word instead.
Their conversation halts and I can see the smiles and greetings freeze on their faces in my periphery as I storm through the open hallway to the stairs.
In the bedroom we share, I pace, wishing I could throw something or break it.
The adrenaline rush doesn’t leave any room for rationale.
I just pace and heave. I don’t recognize this hothead I glimpse in the mirror with each pass by the dresser.
The click of the door halts my forge. I place my hands on the wooden surface, not looking at my reflection.
I don’t want to see that girl. I don’t know her.
I don’t look over at him either or acknowledge him in any way.
I know it’s him though. Just like I knew he’d come.
And I feel like a brat—ashamed even. Maybe I acted like that just to get him to follow me.
That pisses me off more. I don’t want to be this girl.
I’m not this girl. Except that right now I am.
And now I can’t get away from myself and how I just acted.
Now I have to face him. My nails curl on the wood surface with a faint scratching sound.
He comes up behind me, placing his fists beside my hands on the dresser top, his arms bookending mine. He dips his head down and rests his chin on my shoulder.
I can’t avoid him forever. I look up into his eyes reflected in the mirror—a soft, calm blue.
Piercing mine, I see patience and sweetness looking back at me.
Pressure immediately builds behind mine.
My emotions are at war. My heart races in my chest like a thousand hooves.
Shame is quickly snuffing out the flames of my anger.
“Hi, pretty girl.” He tilts his head when he says it, so his nose tickles my temple, and his words push soft puffs of breath into my ear.
It sends a flood straight to my belly and lower. I close my eyes and lean my cheek into his, but my stubbornness digs in its heels. “Don’t, Julie.” My voice hitches, and I clench my stomach muscles to force a steadiness I don’t feel.
“Talk to me, Ever. What’s going on in there?”
“I don’t know, okay? I’m pissed. And I’m pissed that I’m pissed. And I don’t wanna talk about it—especially with you.”
His eyebrows disappear into the hair spilling onto his forehead on my last words. He lifts his head off my shoulder like I smacked him. “Okay.” He steps back but doesn’t stop watching me in the mirror. Lifting his hands off the dresser, holding them out low at his sides, he asks, “What can I do?”
“I don’t know, Julian. Okay?” I blow a breath through my puffed cheeks and add, “Fire Callie?”
His smirk at my Callie remark sends a grudging smile to my own lips.
“There she is,” he says, his smirk going full-blown, closed-lipped smile, crinkling the outer corners of his eyes.
He turns me from the mirror and wraps his arms around me so tight I work to inhale a full breath.
My arms hang at my sides at first, but his heavy sigh has me hanging them loosely around his hips.
I never want to hurt this man. Ever. The tug of war inside me has my head spinning so I can’t form coherent thoughts.
Then a traitorous tear slips from my eye.
I brush my cheek on his shirt to hide it, but another one takes its place.
I sniff to keep my nose from running, which I know alerts him to the tears—if he didn’t already know.
“Ever . . .” He drags out the end of my name on a sigh like it hurts him to say it.
I know he doesn’t like to see me upset. And therein lies my struggle.
I want to stamp down my emotions so he’s okay.
When do I get to feel my feelings? I ignore myself.
“I’m fine. I just wanna go home.” As soon as the words come out, my old room flashes through my mind.
Not Blue Lake. My childhood bedroom in Oak Valley.
I don’t really want to go back there. Do I?
I love my life in Blue Lake. With Julian.
But right now, it doesn’t feel like my life.
It feels like his life. In Blue Lake, I feel like his equal.
His partner. Here, I feel like some tagalong with no life of her own.
But is my life in Blue Lake even mine or ours?
Or is it his with just more lines for me as a supporting character?
It began as a fresh start, a way to escape, get away from all the bullshit in Oak Valley, but meeting Julian and working at Fit changed that.
Now I want it to be my life. I want to be a contributing part of the life I have with him.
And that means it’s on me to decide what that looks like.
At some point I have to be able to say what it is I want, what I envision.
I also have to know what that is before I can say it.
Quiet, agreeable Everly is going to have to speak up for the life I hope to have.
And while that isn’t my MO, I am coming around to it—speaking my mind more.
The reason for that, I know, has everything to do with the breathtakingly beautiful blue-eyed man before me and the way he makes me feel seen and understood.
That my outer self is slowly reflecting my inner self is a testament to that.
A small part of me worries that’s proof it’s all about him, but he’s never made me feel that way. The opposite in fact.
“About that . . .” The timber of his voice rumbling against my ear wants to soothe me, but his words trip my heartbeat.