Chapter 5 #2
I snort a laugh. “Yeah. I heard that story from both Grave and Cash. When Dream was hiding from the Reivers, he ran straight to the clubhouse to ask for directions out of town.” I shake my head at Dream’s lethally bad sense of direction.
“If Cash hadn’t found him in the parking lot, he’d be a goner. ”
“Dream is really sharp and smart, and you could at least listen to the idea,” Evan insists, with a restrained calmness that I’m impressed by.
When I told him no, I expected tantrum-throwing Evan to make a return guest appearance.
Maybe even looked forward to it a little.
Seeing him hot and bothered and focusing all his frustration on me.
Stop it, Luca.
“Dream is cool, and I’m glad you two are becoming friends. But I won’t be taking security advice from him any time soon.”
“Cash thought it was a good idea.”
I round on Evan, closer to losing my cool than I’ve been since I got here. He looks at the expression on my face and takes a step back. “So.” I close the distance he just made between us. “You thought you’d bypass me and get Cash’s okay?”
“It wasn’t like that. Cash and I talk.”
“Oh. I know that,” I say with a sharp bite to my tone that hints at how fucking much I hate their little chats.
Here I am, stuck talking to Evan about the chance of rain while Cash calls so Evan can catch up with him for what seems like hours.
I know it’s irrational. I like Cash, I really do, and I know Cash and Johnny are crazy about each other.
And even more importantly, I have no claim on Evan, but as pathetic as it is, I’m jealous.
Evan looks at me strangely for a moment, then goes on. “Like I said, it wasn’t like that. I asked him because I didn’t want to go through all this with you if he thought it wasn’t a good idea.”
“And then he told you that you could cover the festival?”
Evan shakes his head. “He said it was completely up to you. That he would back your call.”
And then Evan gives me a look. One that makes me feel like he’s got my heart in a vice. Big, hopeful eyes that are begging me to think about whatever insane plan Dream has come up with.
I give in.
“Fine. Run the plan by me.” Evan’s face lights up with excitement. “Don’t.” I point my finger at him in warning. “Don’t get excited. I’m looking at it so I can tell you no, and we can move on.”
Evan nods and tries but fails to look unexcited. He pulls out his phone and pulls up a picture of a guy with a close-one-eye-and-blink-twice resemblance to Evan. “It’s Armande Koraviniski.”
“And he is?”
“He’s a music writer from Belgrade. His uncle comes into the restaurant Dream works at sometimes. He was supposed to cover Freedom Fest, but he was in a biking accident, and the doctors told him he couldn’t make the trip.”
“So?”
“I can pretend to be him. He wears dark glasses and hats. The Reivers won’t be paying him any attention, and even if they did, no one would know it was me.”
It’s not a totally bad idea. If it were anybody else but Evan, I’d think seriously about letting him do this.
There’s that look again.
“Why do you want this so bad?” I ask, hoping he’ll give me some reason I can blow off easily.
“I’m not going to lie,” he says. “The journalist in me wants to cover this. It’s a big story, and it could really jumpstart my career. But that’s not the main reason why I want—no, need—to be there.”
I wait for him to finish, but he waits to gather his thoughts for a second.
“I may not be strong or know shit about guns or knives the way all of you do, but I’m a fighter too.
My weapons are words.” He looks up at me with his amber eyes shining with feeling.
“Freedom Festival will be an important battle in gaining the traction to beat the Reivers. I know it’s dangerous, but I deserve to be there fighting alongside all of you. ”
“Fuck!” I say in a total cry of defeat.
Evan’s eyes light up in triumph. “Not so fast,” I warn him.
Pulling myself to my full height and looming over him, I stare him down with my best don’t-fuck-with-me glare.
“If at any point I think it’s too dangerous, or you aren’t willing or capable of following every protocol I deem necessary, I’m pulling you out of this plan, and we’ll be watching Freedom Festival together with a bowl of popcorn on your lumpy ass couch. ”
Evan nods submissively, but then he can’t hold in his excitement any longer. “I’m going to be the safest, best-behaved undercover journalist ever,” he boasts. “You are going to be so impressed with me.”
“I already am.” The true words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Evan goes silent and looks at me in surprise. I think of all the ways he can take what I just said. All of them are true, but I go for the safest. I clear my throat. “I mean, I’m impressed with your work.”
“You’ve read my work?” He sounds like a kid waking up to presents on Christmas morning.
“Yeah,” I admit and add a little detail so he knows I’m not blowing smoke up his ass. “I was in Cincinnati a few years back and caught a series of articles you wrote for the Indie press about three unsolved crimes you tied to the local Reivers chapter.”
“I wrote that one while I was still in college. I’d been so sure that article would at least reopen investigations into those cases I’d written about.” His lips quirk into a frown. “It didn’t.”
“It should have. Those were good articles. Solid reporting. I made sure to follow your work after that.”
“You did?” Evan says, looking like a dog who’d just been given a bone for the first time.
“I did.”
If he were mine, I’d let him know every day how talented and special I think he is.
I’d show him, too. Now, for instance, I’d lay him down on the floor and worship him by nipping and teasing every inch of his body.
I’d tell him how incredibly smart and beautiful he is.
Oh yeah, I’d let him know how stunning he is.
Then, I’d slowly, tortuously get him ready for me until he was begging for me to fill him up.
I’d make him repeat every compliment back to me until he started believing every word of them. Then, I’d—
But he’s not mine
“I’m going to take a shower,” I announce and flee for the bathroom, which has become my refuge when I’m on the edge of stepping over the boundaries I’ve set for myself.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: fucking boundaries.