Chapter Thirty-Five
Five Years Ago - Evelyn
AS I STEP out of the cool reprieve and into the sun, the stress and worries come with it.
The library is the one place that feels good. An enforced quiet while I study at a brown wooden table, it feels weirdly like home. Never thought the kitchen in Cyrus’s house would be something I’d come to miss one day, but maybe it’s not really the kitchen that I miss.
“Evelyn!”
I manage to stop my eyes from rolling back into my head as I come to face Preston, who was no doubt waiting for me. I’d bet he’s never walked in the direction of the library once of his own volition. The smile I pull off feels all wrong, but Preston doesn’t seem to notice.
“Got any plans for the long weekend?” Preston grins. “A few of us are going to spend a few days on my father’s yacht. No parents. Want to come?”
Sounds like something we’d get lectured about in health class. “I don’t think my parents would let me, but thanks for the invite!”
“Actually,” Preston steps in front of me, blocking my path. “I already asked my mom to help me put in a good word with your mom. Kellin already said yes. Turns out, they love the idea of us spending more time together.”
“Ohhh.” I laugh uncomfortably. Preston must have gotten sick of me using my parents as an excuse, even when I live hours away from them. “That’s…nice of you.”
“Yeah.” Preston grins again, showing off two perfect rows of white teeth, contrasting against his tanned skin. A lot of the girls here find him attractive, but I’ve never been able to see the appeal, despite his oddly placed persistence when it comes to me. In fact, it’s probably why they all hate me and I wish it was anyone else who wanted to be friends.
“Well, I still have to study.”
Preston lifts a brow. “But we just finished finals.”
“There are still things to be studied.”
“Save it for another weekend.” Preston takes a step closer, running his finger up the top of my arm. I try to feel something, anything , but it has the opposite effect as he opens his mouth again. “Spend this weekend in a bikini. With me .”
“I’m sorry, Preston, but I can’t. Thank you for the invitation.” This time I don’t tack on the usual ‘maybe next time’ as I step around him and keep walking.
There’s never going to be a next time. Especially not in a bikini.
As I tuck my books to my chest, I try to shake off the sticky feeling that encounter dumped all over me. Most girls would jump at the opportunity to be taken on a yacht by the hottest, richest boy in the school.
Is it me? Am I broken?
Or is it because I don’t want a boy with spiky blonde hair and a handsome face? I don’t want a boy who wears Sperry shoes and asks to take me on their father’s yacht.
I want someone to sing me to sleep, as they hold me close, because they know what it’s like to come from where I do.
I want Ryder.
I’ll never stop wanting Ryder.