Chapter 18
18
One weekend in New York with Evelyn, and Theo is seventeen again. Obsessed with his best friend. Attempting to play it cool. Agonizing over how to tell her. If he even should. Every messy feeling he’s spent the last decade denying was unearthed the moment he pressed his mouth against that fucking tattoo. Now home, they don’t talk about what that weekend meant. If it meant anything at all. But at least they don’t pretend it didn’t happen. In the week since, casual has become their new favorite word. Before school, breakfast ends with Theo casually lifting Evelyn onto the kitchen island and fingering her until she comes. Before bed, Evelyn wrings her hair out with a towel after shower sex and laughs. Who knew we’d be so good at casual, Theodore?
Casual.
Casual.
Casual.
Theo falls asleep with her in his arms and wakes up alone and tells himself that’s enough.
Safe.
What he wants.
It’s Martin Luther King Jr. Day, a Monday holiday that allows Theo to sleep in. When he finally rolls out of bed at 8:05, Evelyn is rinsing blueberries at the sink in an oversized T-shirt that barely covers her ass. So casual. Theo is absolutely not hard at the sight. “Morning.”
“Hey.” Evelyn places the colander down and spins to face him. Leans back and presses the palms of her hands against the quartz countertop. “Breakfast?”
His eyebrows rise. “You’re cooking?”
“I’m adding blueberries to my Cheerios.”
Theo laughs, then reaches above her to grab two ceramic bowls from the cabinet. “Tell me more.”
“I’ve spent years perfecting the cereal-to-milk ratio.”
“Have you?”
She shoves him. “Stop laughing as if soggy cereal isn’t—”
Theo cuts Evelyn off with a casual kiss because that’s something they do now. Casually. Casual is his desire to always be kissing her. Casual is her soft gasp as he lifts her so she’s sitting on the countertop. She laughs against his lips, breaking the kiss as he tries to deepen it and pressing her hands against his chest. “I have to go to the studio.”
He groans. “You’re working today?”
“I have a project to wrap before Sadie is back from Sundance.”
“When’s she back?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Ev.”
“I know.” She bites her lip, then smirks. “I need to stop letting my husband distract me.”
Theo swallows.
Hard.
Evelyn’s eyes sparkle with amusement as they meet his. “Your face, Theodore. Don’t worry. I’m going to crush this assignment and we’ll be heading toward divorce faster than you can say irreconcilable differences .”
“Right.” Theo nods, ignoring whatever that word— divorce —is making him feel. “What’s the project?”
“It’s just, like, a two-minute sequence from some kid’s show. Sarabeth & Jack vs. the Universe ?”
“Wait. Seriously?”
“You know it?”
Theo may or may not have shed a tear over a season two arc involving Jack’s relationship with his dad. “My students love that show. And the graphic novels.”
Evelyn pops a blueberry into her mouth. “Want to come with me?”
“Really?”
She nods. “We can record the session for your class.”
“That feels like an NDA violation.”
“Definitely. But I don’t see the harm if you show it to them after the episode airs? I’m pretty sure you need all the cool points you can get, Mr. Theodore.”
She’s not wrong.
Evelyn pushes off the counter with her hands to stand, then pours two bowls of Cheerios. Mixes in the blueberries, then adds the milk. Skim for him, almond for her. A blueberry careens past his face every time he tries to distract her and it’s all so domestic. They may have stopped wearing rings, but they’re still pretending. After breakfast, Evelyn playfully bumps his hip on the way to her bedroom. Returns with pants on. A tragedy. She’s dressed like she’s about to spend the day at Miss Stella’s—black yoga pants that flare out at the ankles, an olive-green tank top over a sports bra, an oversize cream cardigan layered on top. Her hair is half back in one of those claw clips that attempt to impale his feet at least once a week.
She plucks her keys off the counter. “So. Are you coming?”
Theo should lesson plan.
Spend his day off working.
But.
He just wants to be wherever she is. A thirty-minute commute later, Theo enters the Foley stage behind Evelyn, unprepared for the sensory overload when she flips the lights. The space is a cross between a hardware store and a costume shop. He walks on wood, bricks, tile, concrete. Passes various other surfaces—a sandpit, gravel, leaves, carpet. An empty bathtub. Bins of shoes. Rolls of fabric. So many textures. Barrels. Brooms. Hats. A… bike? Pots and pans and bowling balls and chairs and a bowl of lemons and—
“I know,” she says, reading his mind. “It’s organized chaos.”
Evelyn leads him to the mixing room, a space that is empty—muted—in comparison, with windows that look into the studio and two side-by-side desks. Hers has a pink electric blanket draped over the chair, two succulents on the desk, a Post-it note that reads, I’ll know what an anthropomorphic chicken sounds like when I hear it , and photos taped on the wall next to her laptop. Duplicates of a few on their bookshelves at home, like Evelyn in Pep’s recording studio. But also some new-to-him photos. A selfie of Evelyn and Gen at the Ginger premiere. Another throwback to their dance life, Theo cheesing at the camera and Evelyn cheesing at him , both holding a medal he doesn’t even remember receiving. His eyes focus on the pink blur in the top right corner of that photo. It almost looks like a smudge. It’s pink nail polish. His mom’s signature color.
“She was an awful photographer.”
Theo laughs. “The actual worst.”
“I’m kind of glad now.”
“Yeah.”
He wonders what Lori would say if she could see them.
Married.
Casually.
Evelyn drops her tote bag on her desk. “You can hang out in here while I’m recording. Video will play on that screen.” She points to the monitor set up on the stage before turning on some of the audio equipment and handing Theo a pair of headphones. “You can listen with these. If you want to. It can get repetitive, so I won’t be offended if at any point you… um. Stop. Listening.” Her cheeks bloom pink. “Here.”
Theo takes the headphones. “Cool.”
“We can set up a tripod in the corner to record a session. Sadie has a phone mount. For TikTok.”
“Sadie’s on TikTok?”
“No.” She shakes her head, then removes the claw clip and twists all her hair into it. Theo is transfixed. Cannot wait until later when he can unclip her hair. “I already blocked and practiced the scene, so hopefully this shouldn’t take too long.”
Evelyn has told him that when she’s on a Foley stage, it almost feels like she’s dancing again. It’s one thing to hear her say it and another to see it. Evelyn dancing again. Her body moving to the rhythm of the scene to hit every note of an action sequence. Her ability to absorb and execute the nuances of each movement. On the screen, Sarabeth and Jack are being chased in a blizzard. In the studio, Evelyn runs in place over lump charcoal. It has the same crackling effect as snow. Her first take as Sarabeth’s feet complete, she returns the mixing booth and listens to the playback. It matches. One take. Content, she switches from heavy industrial snow boots to a pair with a lighter tread to be Jack’s steps. Because he’s younger, smaller , she explains. Theo hangs on to her every word, grateful she has to focus on the monitor because he’s unable to contain the goofy grin on his face as he listens to each prop pass.
After recording, Evelyn sits on his lap and layers sound on sound on sound.
He unclips the claw.
Plays with her hair, until she passes the headphones back to him.
“It’s just a rough cut.”
Theo listens. “This is what you do all day?”
Her laughter crackles in his ear. “I wish. No. Most days are either running around in search of a super specific prop or in here, hanging out with Charlie while Sadie records. I’m hoping this”—she gestures at the sound waves on her monitor—“will change that.”
“It sounds incredible, Ev.”
“Thanks.” She beams at him. “I needed this. Today.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, so far the best part about this fellowship has been the benefits.”
Theo smirks.
She rolls her eyes. “Your health insurance.”
“Sure. My insurance .”
Evelyn shoves his shoulder, her expression shifting from playful to something serious. “I just. Sometimes I wish I wanted something easy.” She scrunches her nose. “Not easy . A path with a clear trajectory. I thought… losing dance… it would’ve changed things. Changed me . Nope. Instead, I fell in love with this weird and wonderful art that is, statistically speaking, a less viable path than professional dancer. It’s, like, I’m wired to want impossible things.”
“Or just really brave.” Theo shrugs when his eyes meet hers, his smile soft. “That’s how I see it. You.”
“Shut up.”
“Let me be earnest.”
“Brave? I didn’t even apply for this! You did. If I were brave…” The way she’s looking at him? Theo’s brain goes to a dangerous place. “I’m not.”
If I were brave…
What?
If Theo were brave, he’d ask her to finish that sentence.
No.
If Theo were brave?
He’d say, We don’t have to be an impossible thing.
He doesn’t.
Those words are the opposite of casual.
Casual is letting Evelyn stand, pull him to his feet, and change the subject. She leads him out of the mixing room to give a proper tour of a Foley stage. Demonstrates how various props can be used in various ways. Plays a clip of Sarabeth popping out her retainer and tells him that Sadie used uncooked lasagna to replicate that pop . Has strong feelings about which objects make, quote, the most fantastic squeaks . Theo learns it’s a toss-up between the cranks of a vintage coffee grinder and an Ice-O-Matic, and it feels like a privilege to see the super specific way Evelyn’s mouth quirks when she’s excited about a sound.
She holds out a pair of snow boots. “Your turn.”
On the monitor, she resets the Sarabeth & Jack blizzard sequence. Evelyn made it look so easy. It’s not easy. There’s no music. Your body has to find the beat in silence. Feel the rhythm of a scene and commit it to memory.
Theo tries.
Evelyn fails to stifle her laughter as she records his attempts. He ends the recording, then successfully stifles her laughter with his mouth. And it’s fun. Today. Yesterday. His life.
“Home?” she murmurs.
“Yeah?”
Evelyn nods. “I want…” Theo breaks the kiss, brushing his lips along her jaw, down her throat, against the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and the sigh that she exhales is so soft. Incredibly sexy. “ Theo .” She rakes the curls at his nape. “I… I need to be able to look Sadie and Charlie in the eyes tomorrow. So. You need to take me home. Now .”
“Or what?”
“Theodore.”
He smirks. “Let’s go.”
Theo is obsessed with a flustered Evelyn. Could be undone by the way she says his name. As he drives toward Pasadena, he’s unable to get her words out of his head. Take me home . It’s not the home—not the life —Theo imagined for himself at eighteen and that once felt like such a loss. Now? He considers that maybe he moved back because of the worst reason, but he stayed for the best one, and today, this moment, Theo is exactly where he’s supposed to be.
“Bed?” Evelyn says, asks, demands the moment they’re home.
Done.
Theo carries her toward his bedroom as her nails scrape against his skin, mouth moving from his throat up, up, up. “Hey. Wait .” Her breath tickles his ear. “My room?”
There’s a tentativeness, a question mark, a vulnerability in the question. Theo and Evelyn have been casual all over their apartment—the kitchen, the shower, his bed, the fucking floor —but not in her bedroom. It’s a boundary they haven’t crossed. An unspoken thing. “Yeah?”
She sucks on his earlobe. “ Yes .”
Evelyn untangles her legs from around his torso, then weaves her fingers through his and pulls him across the invisible line into her room. His pulse spikes. She pushes him onto the bed and crawls onto his lap. “Is this okay?”
Always, she asks.
Theo nods, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as she removes his glasses, places them on her nightstand, then pulls off her tank top before leaning in and kissing his jaw. Evelyn kisses him softly. Grinds against his hardness slowly. As though they have all the time in the world. His hands settle on her hips, thumbs skimming the band of her underwear. Light. Teasing. Her teeth gently graze his bottom lip in response. Learning what her body responds to, how she responds? It’s so much. A lifetime of wondering and now he just knows and he’ll never not know what makes his best friend come and this is casual, they are casual , but…
Is that even what he wants?
Casual?
Evelyn pulls back. “Pause.” She dismounts and Theo watches the shape of her stand on her tiptoes and reach for a box, the box that has just been chilling on the top shelf of her closet. Theo would be a liar if he denied ever thinking about that box. How comfortably she’d dug through its contents. How casually she’d dangled a butt plug in his face. How inexperienced he felt in comparison.
Evelyn returns to his lap, her cheeks flushed. “We don’t have to. Obviously. But I’m… well, if you’re open to exploring the world of sex toys and light kink? I’m down for that. Like…” She reaches into the box and pulls out a set of hand restraints. “If you wanted to use these? I’d be into it.”
“You want to… tie me up?”
Evelyn shakes her head, her smile wicked and wonderful. “I want you to tie me up.”
Fuck.
He’s so completely out of his depth. Will he like that? His body is very much interested… but his brain is less sure. What does that even mean? If the feral, possessive part of him is so goddamn turned on right now? Theo feels like a teenager once more, bumbling though those awkward first times. Theo knows what to do with his hands, his mouth, his body. He doesn’t know what to do with—
“Hey.” Evelyn’s palms cradle his cheeks. “Talk to me.”
“I just. Um. I don’t know what I like when it comes to…” Theo gestures to the box, not used to being vulnerable when it comes to sex with, well, anyone. “… all of this?” He scans its contents. “Is that a feather duster?”
“Yeah.” She laughs, reaches into the box for it, and trails it up his forearm. It leaves goose bumps behind. “Personally, I’m a fan of using this here .” She starts using it on herself. Brushing the feathers lightly, tantalizingly, over her sports bra, across her breasts.
“Ev.”
She shrugs.
Drops the feather duster back into the box.
“But I’m more interested in figuring out what you like.”
Her nipples are hard. Visible through spandex. God, she’s a menace. Theo can’t speak. Can’t breathe. In the beat of silence that follows, her expression shifts. She bites her lip, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry. I’ll stop—”
“Bra. Off.”
“Less clothes.” She smirks, then actively consents, another layer of fabric falling to the floor. “Got it.” Theo flips her onto her back and reaches for the hand restraints, then the feather duster. Secures the restraints around her wrists, then brushes the skin between her breasts. “That tickles .” She giggles, and that sound alone almost ruins him. “Lighter.”
Theo listens. Likes the quiet hitch of her breath when he lightens his touch. With restraints, she can’t show him what she wants but must tell him and he likes the filthy words she whispers in his ear, how vocal she is about what turns her on, the way her back arches when he reaches for one of the vibrators. He brushes the pulsing device over her thin cotton panties. Teases her with it until she asks him why the fuck her underwear is still on. It’s an excellent question. Theo removes every layer that remains between them and then he’s inside her and fuck he likes the way she feels under him. How tight she is. Learning that there are so many ways you can use a vibrator.
Mostly, he likes how much she trusts him.
No.
Not likes.
Theo is pretty positive he loves that.
“ Theodore ,” she whispers in his ear. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”
You.
You.
“You.” Theo says, then presses his lips to the hollow of her throat. “Always you.”
When she comes, her teeth sink into his shoulder and the lightest pressure of her bite is what sends him over the edge, too. After, Evelyn curls against him, her fingers lazily playing with his hair, and Theo tells himself that he can do this. Be casual. Act as though he didn’t just tie her up and confess how much he wanted her.
You.
Always you.
They spend the rest of the afternoon in Evelyn’s bed, trying to marathon Love Island but mostly just distracting each other with their hands, their mouths, their toys. With every release, Theo denies the feeling that resurfaced when they were in New York, then again this morning at the Foley studio, and again and again and again in this bed. Attempts to push away that unruly feeling that’s growing every day into something more untenable, the feeling that will consume him— hurt him —if he isn’t careful.
It isn’t until the next morning, when she’s snoring in his arms, that he’s able to not only name it, but allow himself to feel this terrifying feeling.
Happy.
Happy.
Happy.