30. Evan
CHAPTER 30
Evan
T he wind picks up, and the leaves on the trees rustle and dance around me as I hurry along the sidewalk toward the apartment I share with Lexi. The temperature has dropped about twenty degrees from earlier, and I shiver in my gray joggers and navy tee.
When I step inside, the sight that greets me causes me to freeze, a smile curling my lips. Lexi is in the kitchen, brunette hair in a messy bun, wearing a pair of leggings and a baggy tee. Music blares from the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. Lexi shakes her hips to the beat, then sings into the wooden spoon she’s using to stir the sauce.
Closing the door behind me, I set my gym and laptop bag down and move to the kitchen. Leaning my shoulder against the doorway, I fold my arms over my chest, taking it all in.
Lexi spins and shimmies her hips. Then, she picks up the pasta fork and stirs the noodles, bobbing her head to the beat. Setting the utensil down, she grabs the strainer behind her and jerks to a stop when she sees me.
The strainer hits the floor as she jumps.
“Jesus Christ, Evan.” Her hand flies to her chest, covering her heart.“You scared the shit outta me. I didn’t know you were here.” She pivots, heading to her phone and lowering the volume.
“By all means, continue. I’m enjoying the show.”
She sticks her tongue out, then bends over and retrieves the strainer from the floor. “Great. Now I need to wash this.” Her eyes move to the stove, taking in the mess around the pan. “Oh, shit. The sauce.”
Pushing off the doorway, I stalk to where she stands. “Let me help you.”
“I’ve got it,” she snaps, stepping around me and moving to the sink.
I stir the sauce and taste it, ensuring it’s warm enough. Removing it from the heat, I stir the pasta before coming up behind her, pinning her against the counter. “Stop being so fucking stubborn.”
Plucking the freshly washed strainer from her hands, I grab a towel and dry it.
“I could’ve done that.”
My smile is smug. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
She huffs and tries to move away, but I won’t let her. “Lexi, stop being a brat.”
Her anger fades as she gets a good look at my face. “Oh my God.” Her fingers fly up, gingerly touching the cut above my eye and the bruise on my cheek. “What happened?”
“Trent’s fist.” I grab her hand, kissing her fingers. “I’m fine.”
“Evan, you’re bruised and cut. And this is swollen.” Her fingers lightly touch the skin around my eye.
“I’m fine.”
She glares at me. “You’re not fine. Lemme get the first aid kit and clean you up.” She scoots away, hurrying from the kitchen.
What the hell just happened?
No one in my life has wanted to take care of me. Not since….
I cut the thought off and move to the stove to drain the pasta. Then, I mix the broccoli, sauce, and fettuccine together.
I hear Lexi’s bare feet padding across the floor behind me as I slide the plates onto the island.
She presses a wet washcloth against the cut before I can move. “What do you mean, Trent’s fist? Isn’t he your friend? Why did he hit you?”
My arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. I love the worry lines on her forehead and the way her eyebrows are drawn together. Her eyes dart to mine before returning to my cut, which she gently cleans with the antiseptic she put on the washcloth. I wince from the slight sting, a hiss of pain escaping me.
“We are friends. Just not when we’re inside the ring.”
Her lips purse together as she cocks her head. “What do you mean by inside the ring?”
I shrug. “Trent does some underground fighting. I was helping him prepare.”
She stops moving and stares at me with raised brows. “Seriously? He fights…” she swallows hard, her gaze roaming over my face. “And you were fighting tonight.” Her hyper-focus on me makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my bedroom.
Christ, Evan. Get your shit together. I never fuck anyone in my bed. And I sure as hell don’t allow them to sleep over. You also don’t kiss women… until Lexi.
Fucking traitorous thoughts. I don’t need this shit right now.
“It’s no big deal. It’s not like it was an actual fight. It was just practice.”
“Evan, it’s dangerous.” She grabs some antibiotic ointment and applies it to the cut. “I don’t think you need stitches, but you need to ensure it doesn’t get infected.”
“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me. I’m not your concern.” I’m irrationally angry right now, and my thoughts are conflicted.
She jolts, stepping back like I slapped her. Dropping the antibiotic cream into the first aid kit, she moves to the kitchen sink.
I blow out a breath, taking in her stiff posture. The hurt look on her face makes me feel like an asshole. “Lexi, I’m sorry.”
She frantically washes her hands. “It’s fine.”
Drying them, she keeps her back to me. She heads to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. Without looking at me, she grabs her plate and a fork before whirling around and stomping out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” I yell after her.
“To my room. I’d rather eat alone than deal with you.”
Her door slams behind her.
I stare at my plate, enraged. I know her attitude is all my fault. But her actions threw me for a loop. I’m not used to people being concerned about me, let alone treating my injuries.
Damn it, Evan. You fucked up.