Chapter 4
Zander
“They said there’s a haunted shed right around here somewhere.” Evie’s using her phone flashlight as we walk through snow frosted grass, oblivious to the utter havoc she wreaked on my body when she winked at me on stage.
For that one split second I thought she might feel the same way.
Everyone else had picked out their partner and performed for them.
I saw it with Sierra and Emmerson, and all the other women.
They each had eyes for one man. So when Evie picked me, I was shocked.
She mentioned earlier this evening that she was going to shoot her shot with Logan, which by the way, shook me.
I don’t give two fucks what changed on that front, or if it did.
My body doesn’t know the difference, and it’s both floating above the night clouds and simultaneously shaking like the last leaves in the trees, unsure of what this all means.
“They have a haunted house and a haunted shed? Seems overkill.” Her voice breaks into my reverie.
“Some people are afraid of small spaces. Makes for an even scarier experience to be locked in a shed.”
“I suppose so.” I’m not all that happy that she dragged me out here for this.
It was brutal enough watching her cross that stage and wink at me.
Now she wants to be alone? She seriously has no idea what she’s doing to me.
Then again, how could she know? We’ve always been friends and said we always would be.
Now I want to switch the script?
“Stop messing up your hair, cowboy. That’s what you have a hat for.” She grabs the hat out of my hand and plops it back on my head, getting altogether too close to me.
“You’re shivering.” I notice.
“I didn’t think we’d be outside long, so I didn’t bother with my jacket.”
“Where is this damn—”
“Oh, look.” She pops up on her tiptoes and looks over my shoulder. “It’s right there. C’mon.” Dragging me by the hand, she tears me across the field and then rips open a creaky wooden door, and hauls me into a tiny room.
It’s almost pitch black save the red and purple neon lights. A tomb with a mummy and some eerie music plays. An ugly AF clown rears his head out of a box and I jump.
“Don’t laugh at me, Evie. Clowns are terrifying.” I gently squeeze her ribs, knowing she’s ticklish there.
Her hands fly to my chest as her elbows wrench to her sides in an effort to stop me.
“This is it?” With her body pressed to mine, she looks over her shoulder to survey her surroundings. “Not much, is it?”
“Probably just a place for people to make out.”
Her body straightens against mine, and her leisurely perusal of the tiny shed slows to a sloth’s pace.
“Guess we should free it up for someone else to use then, huh?” Her neck twists back and she gazes up at me through her long lashes. I sweep her blonde locks back from her neck and off her shoulder, itching to feel the softness of her skin underneath.
“Still cold?”
“I’m okay.” She doesn’t move, just shivers for a second time against my chest. I rub her arms before leading her out of the shed.
We’re not one step out when she unleashes a shriek and hightails it back into the shed.
“Evie!” I yank open the door and reenter the space. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She’s flailing her hands at her hair and she’s whimpering.
“What’s going on?”
I manage to hear her muffled question, “Is it gone?”
“What? Is what gone?”
“The thing. That horrible creature.”
I still her hands and tilt her chin up at me.
“The bat. It flew right into my hair.”
“Are you serious?” I run my hands through her hair. For what? Evidence? I don’t know, but my fingers are mesmerized by her silken tresses. I’d venture to say that my fingers might never be the same again.
Her forehead crashes into my chest and her fingers are gripping my black T-shirt.
“Sh…It’s okay.” I pull her in close. “It was just a bat. I know you hate them, but he didn’t follow us in here.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be sorry. Everyone’s got their fears. I nearly pissed my pants at that dumbass clown a second ago.”
A strangled cough mixed with a laugh breaks free from her.
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry. That was so dumb. I don’t know why I reacted like that.”
She looks up at me with a few fresh tears trickling down her cheeks, and she uses the back of her hand to wipe them away. Evie almost never cries. I’ve seen it on occasion, but it’s usually about missing her mom. She’s not the kind to cry over a bat.
“What’s going on? Is this just about the bat?”
She shakes her head and forms a pouty shape with her lips. “I’m just in my head a bit tonight.”
“About Logan?” I don’t want to ask about him, but if she cares about him, I guess I care about him.
A befuddled look skips across her face and my toes curl in my shoes. “Logan?”
“You were trying to catch his attention tonight, weren’t you? Did he do something stupid to you? Should I go knock him out?” Not sure I’d knock him out. I’m thinking it’d be a pretty equal fight all things considered, but if I went in with the adrenaline of anger, I’d have the upperhand for sure.
“No. I’m good. Settle down, cowboy. I’m not thinking about him too much actually.”
“What are you thinking about then?”
“It’s dumb.”
“Just tell me.”
She puts her hands flat on my chest and rests her chin atop them, peering up at me. “I was just a bit shocked when you said that you thought Sloane was the one.”
“I didn’t—”
She pulls away. “It’s okay. I know you’re going to get married one day. I just didn’t think it was going to be this soon.”
I think I have to tell her. This is the perfect opening.
“I was hoping we’d always be friends, that’s all.”
Fuck. My chest is heaving now. Friends. That word is like a tiny whip on my heart. My blood roars, and at her waist I fist my hand into her doctor’s coat.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, Zander. This shouldn’t be about me. You’re the one who just got dumped.”
“Ya. Because of you.”
At my words, she recoils. And I don’t blame her. I just tossed her a flaming potato.
“What are you talking about?”
I shouldn’t sling it at her this way, but I can’t hold back. “They all leave, Evie. Every single girlfriend I’ve ever had has dumped me.”
“How’s that my fault?” Her back is as straight as the lines in the blueprints I make when designing houses.
“They leave because of you.”
“What are you talking about?” Her arms are crossed and her tits are pushed high. Red lace laughing at me. Teasing me. Begging me.
“They think you’re my priority. And they’re not wrong.”
“Well, we’re friends. Of course we prioritize each other.”
I bark out an unamused laugh. “They don’t think I’m prioritizing you. They think I’m in love with you.”
“What?” Her mouth hangs open, and her eyes lock onto me. “Wh-why? Why would they say that?” She’s shaking her head again, blinking hard. Her gaze drops. “That makes no sense.”
I don’t think I’m ready to spell it out for her yet, if this is her response. She picks up the blathering. “I don’t understand. You thought she was the one. Why would the relationship last that long if you thought she was the one?”
I guess the confession just wants to make its grand appearance because I find myself admitting the truth. “Not The One, as in The One I thought I’d marry. The one, as in, the one who would help me get over you.”