19. Evelyn
19
Evelyn
T he Barlowes walk us to the parking lot. My hand is twined in Garrett’s partly for show, but mostly because I want to. Because we did this together and it’s been so long since I’ve not felt like I was standing alone.
At the end of the tour of their fields, they told us the list of drinks to expect to have to be picked up next week. From what I could read of Garrett’s expression, we won them over. The victory hums through me, or that could just be the small currents I’ve felt each time Garrett and I touch.
For my own sake, I’ll say it’s victory. I’ve grown to value my time with Garrett and I don’t want to ruin that with my proclivity to fall for people who show even the smallest amount of interest in me. He's a good actor, he told me so himself, but I think my body has missed the memo.
“You good?” Garrett asks, his thumb running over my knuckles as we walk across the pavement. There are barely any cars left since the farm is about to close. The Barlowes are still standing on the edge of the sidewalk in front of the visitor center, idly chatting to each other.
“Oh, yeah.” I bite at my lip. “Just thinking that today was fun.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“I guess you were able to put up with me as a girlfriend for a day. Hope you didn’t suffer too much.”
I take a step forward but his hand tugs against mine as he stays in place. “Eve. Promise me something.”
I risk a glance up at him and his eyes are trained on me with a brutal intensity. “Yeah?”
“If anyone ever makes you feel like they’re simply ‘putting up’ with you, walk out of their life. They don’t deserve you.”
A knot catches in my throat. Does he really believe that? Or is he just being nice after helping him today?
“Don’t worry. I won’t walk; I’ll run.” I dart toward the car, tugging him behind me. I like that he never lets go when I do this. It’s something small but I like the possibility that I might be worth holding on to.
When we reach the car I turn and we almost collide at my sudden stop. His front presses against me and my hands land against his firm chest.
“Hey there,” I say, but the words lack my usual confidence.
“Hey, yourself,” he mutters.
In the streetlights his brown eyes burn bronze behind the lenses of his glasses. Instead of pulling back, I run a hand up the hard line of his chest so it lands at the collar of his shirt and I play with the seam with my fingers. He melts into my touch. For the longest time I’ve gained satisfaction from drawing reactions from him because it was something I felt only I could do. This is nearly the same. I want him to react because it’s me, because I want to mean something to him.
There’s that cliff’s edge in my mind, one we’ve been inching closer toward. This moment feels like taking another step closer to discovering what’s waiting at the bottom.
Garrett’s face tilts down toward mine and he closes the gap. My breath catches and my fingers freeze, tangled in the fabric of his shirt.
“I don’t think we should kiss,” he says in a husky voice that makes me want him to be saying the exact opposite. “We don’t need to go that far.”
The heat building in me fizzles and sparks before I can form a response. Yes, he’s talking about the Barlowes who are watching from the sidewalk.
“I guess not.” I don’t want to confront the tinge of rejection that makes me feel like I’m shrinking. I pull my hands back so they land on the car.
The pad of his finger brushes against my cheek as he guides a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Let’s get home, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He unexpectedly leans closer, causing my heart to launch into my throat. Did he change his mind? He should have given me some warning. I suck in a breath and close my eyes as his chest brushes against mine, the friction prompting my nipples to pull tight against my borrowed sweater.
There’s a click and then a kiss of night air.
“The doors unlocked for you, didn’t want to make you wait,” he says. As my eyes flutter open, I find him holding up the keys when I look to the side then pull at the handle. I’m rewarded with the door hitting the back of my legs.
“Thanks,” I choke out through my embarrassment.
Once we’re both in the car and he starts the engine, I turn up the music on the radio. An old Willie Nelson song that once finished bleeds into Billy Joel, but neither song is loud enough to drown out my racing thoughts.
Later, when I’m tucked in bed, I pull out my phone to scroll through the photos. Prompted by my earlier thoughts, I swipe my finger to select all of the ones we took then send them to Quinn. If this were last year, it’s exactly what I would do. I would call her and we’d spend hours talking that would end up deciding to meet up for drinks. I’d tell her about Garrett and the almost kiss and she’d roll her eyes and say I should have just gone for it.
Evelyn
You’d love it here.
It’s late and I don’t expect her to respond, but a few minutes later a notification banner pops up at the top of the screen.
Quinn
Cute
You look happy
Evelyn
I am
My thumbs hover over the screen for a heartbeat before I send a question I desperately want to know the answer to
Evelyn
How are you?
Quinn
Well, this happened…
Attachments: 5 images
Evelyn
How did they get your latte art to look like a vulva?
And where can I get one?
Quinn
You don’t drink coffee
Evelyn
I would if all my coffee was anatomically accurate
Quinn
Liar
It turns out that the coffee shop around the corner from her apartment had a new hire who was struggling with steaming milk. For the last month, Quinn’s lattes have been borderline pornographic.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve missed out on any other vulva latte level incidents. It’s so dumb, so unimportant compared to so many other moments in our friendship but I want it back so badly.
Evelyn
The only thing that would make tonight better is if you were here too.
Quinn
Same here.
You know you can tell me anything, right?
The light in my chest sputters for a moment, a candle flickering in gale force winds.
Evelyn
I know