15. Evangeline
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
evangeline
A fter a final, searing kiss and a promise to meet me at my house in an hour, Wilder retreats to the stage to help load our gear into Rye’s SUV. Lily drags me back to the dressing room, closes and locks the door, then spins on me.
“What the ever-loving fuck? What did he say to you? You look like he knocked your brain out.”
I swallow, my tongue moving over my teeth, tasting him. Mint and storms. “He dumped his girlfriend,” I tell her, lingering shock in my voice. “He said he wants to be with me.”
She blinks fast, then frowns. “That’s a complete one-eighty from what he told you last month, what he’s been telling you since you guys were teenagers. What changed?”
“No clue. I guess sleeping together made him reevaluate? It was… super intense.”
“No shit. You limped for three days.” She pauses, her voice lowering. “What happens if he wigs out again? This is the same dude who knew you had feelings for him but still paraded groupies into his bed right in front of you. Who gave you just enough attention to keep you tethered to him and starving for more.” She shakes her head. “We’ve talked about this, Ev. Tortured bad boys with magic dicks are only acceptable in fiction.”
I wince. “I know. But I couldn’t say no, Lil. I’ve wondered for so long, wanted him for so long. I’ve never felt anything like what I feel when I’m with him.”
She drags me to the couch and pulls me down, threading our fingers together. Her eyes brim with worry.
“I know we’re not the type of women who share every little feeling with each other, but you’re still my best friend in the whole world. If I could grow a wiener, I’d put a ring on your finger right now and fuck Wilder out of your system.”
I laugh weakly. “Thanks.”
She grins, but it fades fast. “This is coming from my love for you and your giant, beautiful heart: this is a bad idea. You’ve told me a thousand different times how toxic your friendship—or whatever you’d call it—was toward the end. Think of what happened when you left the band. All the shit he’s said to you over the years.”
You’re my muse.
I’m poison.
Nothing will ever compare to us.
I need you.
We’re musical destiny.
This isn’t a love story.
I hear her words and remember his. I even remember my father’s warning. He’s an addict. He’s using you. But nothing penetrates the golden haze of Wilder’s declaration. I can’t feel doubt or fear.
All I feel is a lifetime of us.
His haughty, little-prince voice telling me to stop following him around and me never listening. Wearing him down until he played with Rye and me—but mostly me. Endless games of hide-and-seek and him begrudgingly pushing me on the swings in my backyard. Piggyback rides and popsicle-stick crafts and sneaking into the kitchen before dinner to swipe frosting off cupcakes. Backyard barbecues and pool days and camping trips. Sharing a blanket under the stars as one of our dads played guitar. Singing together, our small voices harmonizing in a way that made our parents trade surprised looks over our heads.
Sunlight shifting around sycamore leaves. His frowning face as he scribbled in one of our journals. Falling asleep on his bedroom floor while he puzzled through melodies on his guitar. Rare, throaty laughter. Freckled, mood-ring eyes. The expression on his face whenever I sang, like I was the only person who mattered in the world.
Stage lights and cheers and that perfect, glowing space of our creation. Our eyes and hands and voices and lyrics. The connection between us burning like a star, infinite explosions drowning out all background noise. Everything beyond us reduced to colorless ash.
His flexing hips and supple, ink-littered skin. His tongue licking sweat from between my breasts. Eyes holding mine as he drove me toward oblivion and then commanded me to jump like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he was and will always be the architect and master of my body’s secret codes.
“Shit,” whispers Lily.
Her face comes back into focus, as does her apprehensive expression. I quickly press my hand to her bouncing knee.
“Whatever happens with Wilder, my number one focus right now is our future. If he wants to be a part of my life, that’s up to him. But I’m not going to sacrifice everything we’ve worked toward for him. I can promise you that.”
As I say the words, I hear the truth in them. So does Lily. Her shoulders relax, but she still asks, “And if he pulverizes your heart again?”
I force a smile. “What’s that Grace Cunningham quote you were obsessed with last year after that asshole dumped you?”
“‘Love is good for music, but heartbreak is good for art.’” She makes a face. “To clarify, I liked that quote before I knew Wilder’s grandmother said it.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
A knock on the door is followed by Rye’s voice. “All loaded up and ready to go!”
Lily smirks and calls back, “The gear or your dick, Henderson?”
“Date me and find out, Aoki!”
I roll my eyes and stand to gather my things from around the dressing room. Lily lets Rye inside, and they trade flirtatious comments as she does the same.
In the last month and a half—with Rye acting as our roadie, merch-man, and producer—I’ve grown used to their glaring chemistry. And ever since Lily ended her fling with Tyler from The Remnants, their banter has taken on an increasingly sexual charge.
My best friends’ private parts are on a collision course, but I’ve come to terms with it. In fact, I have a feeling when they finally give in, they’ll discover they’re actually perfect for each other.
Ten minutes later, I give Lily a hug goodbye and she hops into Rye’s passenger seat. He lingers beside my car with me, flipping his keys around his fingers.
“Thanks for taking her home, Rye. Don’t knock her up, okay?”
He almost drops the keys. “What? I wouldn’t. I mean—Lily’s not like that. Or I’m not like that. With her. Fuck. Shutting up now.”
Laughing, I open my car door and drop into the seat. Rye bends down to make eye contact, his solemn face wiping the smile from mine.
I swallow hard. “You don’t have to say it—I know. I can’t tell you this isn’t a huge mistake. But I have to find out. I hope you understand.”
He nods. “I do understand. I think it’s true for both of you. It’s time to find out.” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead smacks the hood of my car and grins. “You good to drive, grandma? It’s pretty dark out there.”
I roll my eyes. “Goodnight.”
He winks. “Night, Eva.”
He jogs toward his car and Lily. I start my car and drive home. To Wilder. To us .
I don’t notice the darkness.