37. Garrett
37
Garrett
S he’s trying her best to not look at me. Her hand might be draped in mine and my hand might be resting on her back, but she’s doing her best to avoid me. I know I have no right to be jealous, but I couldn’t help but feel like I caused her to run from me and dance with him. It’s my own damn fault for waiting to tell her what I was doing this morning. I just needed to follow through first.
“Eve,” I plead.
“I get it.” Her false smile lags before falling into place. “It’s fine.”
“I sent a text.”
“You know what text no one wants to get? Any variation of ‘we need to talk.’” Her eyes flare as they fix on me. There’s also that damn fake smile of hers. Fuck. She’s hiding again, hiding from me. “Like I said, I get it. You don’t do relationships. We said we shouldn’t sleep together when we first discussed this. I could have said no, I had that choice. If you want to go back to New York and work, that's fine.”
I spin her around to get out of the way of someone who’s turned the slow song into a whirling swing dance. “I’m not going back. Can we talk? I can explain. It wasn’t something I could have explained over text. And you haven’t been sleeping well. I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes.”
“I’ll make them worth it,” I promise.
The song stops and I take her hand to lead her out of the gym. We rush past lockers and the open doors of classrooms where teams are assembling signs.
“Wasting your five minutes on a tour?” she asks as I pull her along.
“Based on the conversation we’re about to have, I thought you’d value privacy, unless we want everyone in our business via text chain within the next hour.”
It should be here somewhere. I’m not very familiar with the layout because I never went to school here myself, but I’ve come to enough practice festivals over the years. Around the next corner I find the door I’m looking for. I test the knob to find that it’s unlocked. After a twist and a push, I walk into the dark room then pat along the wall for a light switch.
“Supply closet, very classy,” Evelyn says. She steps in behind me with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest.
“If you want, I bet the cafeteria is unoccupied but I didn’t want to waste any more time.”
Evelyn strides past me to an empty bucket, which she grabs and turns over to use as a chair. She crosses jean clad legs and folds her arms over her chest. It isn’t lost on me that she’s wearing the sweater I gave her last week.
I don’t know what it means that she still chose to wear it despite being upset with me, but I want to.
“Did you go to the office this morning to meet with your boss about getting back to work?” she asks.
I can’t blame her for the assumption. It was all I had wanted when we first ran into each other in Alina's driveway.
“That’s where I was,” I start, and her face falls. I walk over to her in two quick steps. My knees fall to the hard ground. “I went there to quit.”
“Huh?”
“I went to the city so I could quit in person. I met with Holt and put in my notice. That’s what I was doing this morning. That’s why I left and couldn’t explain over the phone because I didn’t want to tell you until it was done and I was standing in front of you and could have this conversation.” The words fall out in a rush. I need her to know, but also there’s this electric feeling that comes with the adrenaline of it all.
“You quit your job for me?”
“No, I quit my job because I should have left a long time ago. Talking to Lana got to me. She’s living a life she can’t shut up about. I’ve been going through life without living it like I was playing out some self-imposed sentence,” I explain. “And yesterday you showed me how good it could feel to go for what I want. I was happy making music for years. I want that again. Actually, I want more than that, because now when I think of music, I also think of making it with you.”
She reaches out to cup my cheek and I lean into her touch. I’m here on my knees praying she won’t give up on me. “Does that mean…”
“Yes, I want you. Only you. All of you.”
“And you’re not freaking out.” Her voice breaks into a quiver. “Because I am still freaking out. Because you say that and I feel like there’s this nonstop earthquake and I’m the only one experiencing it.”
I put my hand over where hers is resting on my face. My thumb rubs against her knuckles. My eyes latch onto hers as I say, “I’m fucking terrified. But I know that’s because what happened between us mattered. You matter so damn much to me, Evelyn. I drove to the city scared out of my mind that when I came back you’d be okay with keeping things the exact same. But I had it in my head that if I quit then at least I was doing something right for myself. For the record, I would never run away from you. If anything, I’m running from myself. I see all of you and that’s a fucking gift. With you, things make sense.”
I spent so long running from her. So long doing everything I could to keep her at a healthy distance. I’m done with that. Running back to her is all I ever want to do from here on out.
“Garrett.” She nods and her face finally softens. “That makes me feel a bit better, but I’m not sure if that’s the shock. Promise me one thing. If you leave, make sure not to give me a cryptic text that leads me to question everything.”
“I promise.”
“What happened to your feelings never changing?” she asks, and for the first time today, I’m gifted with a genuine smile from her.
“Well, that’s what happens when you go assuming you know exactly how I feel.”
“You…” I’ve made her speechless and I might deserve some sort of award for achieving that.
“Have felt this way about you before you walked up Alina’s driveway and crashed my vacation. Evelyn, you get under my fucking skin, but I want you there. I need your dumb T-shirts and jokes that you make up just to make me uncomfortable because when you’re next to me, well, I breathe easier too,” I say. With each word her expression brightens, until her eyes blaze with emotion. “When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I’m falling behind.”
“Well, if we’re making confessions. I do have a folder of photos of you on my phone from this trip and no matter how hard I tried…none of them turned out ugly.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“So, we’re together,” she confirms.
“We are,” I say, and her smile grows.
“And you were jealous when you saw Oliver dancing with me?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t need to be. I just want to make that clear.”
I squeeze her hand. “Well, I was and I needed to touch you.”
“You’re barely touching me now,” she says, her voice lowering.
“Should I be doing more? You already have me on my knees.”
“That’s a stupid fucking question, Larson.”
My hands sweep up her sides, and she starts to strip off the sweater, revealing a sheer blue lace bra. Her legs spread and I press my body into the space she’s created for me. Space here, space in the future. I’m not under the illusion that things are perfect, but maybe this right here can be a small type of perfect.
“Tell me what you need,” I murmur into the soft skin of her stomach.
“Convince me all over again that you were always going to come back. Show me exactly what you would have missed if you didn’t.”
“These.” I cup one of her breasts then press my mouth to the other, swiping my tongue over the lace straining against her peaked nipple. “I fucking would have dreamed every night about these.”
She moans arching into me. “What else?”
I start to work at the button of her jeans. “Stand up and I’ll show you.”
The bucket she was sitting on scrapes against the floor. Her hands press into my shoulders as she rises. She starts to move them.
“Stop. Keep your hands on me, you might need a little help standing,” I tell her as I pull down the jeans over the curve of her ass. Lifting my hand, I ghost my fingers over the thin cotton covering her pussy. I pull back and her fingers dig into my shoulders, as if she’s fighting the urge not to touch herself. Instead of teasing her more, I pull down her underwear.
“Touch me, Garrett, please, fucking touch me,” she begs.
“How can I say no now that you’ve asked twice?” I ask, lowering my head to settle between her thighs. The flat of my tongue swipes along her and she lets out a muffled sound. I stop then press a kiss to the rise of her hip.
I continue the progression across the plane of her stomach. She squirms, so when I press my thumb to her clit she starts to rub against it. I make slow circles as I feel her continue to get wet. My hand sinks lower to cup her.
“I would have missed this, Eve. I would have missed how you turn me on with every sound you make. I would have missed seeing my fingers fuck you,” I say, punctuating my words with a finger slipping into her. I put my mouth to better use than talking as I lap at her clit.
“You’re such a good fucking boy. Maybe you’re allowed to send me stupid texts if you apologize like this,” she groans out.
I like that. God. My cock stiffens pressing harder against the fabric of my pants. I want to earn that from her again and again.
One of her hands leaves my shoulder to tangle in my hair. She moans as she pulls on the strands and a pleasant shock of pain zips through me.
I sink another finger into her then curl, pressing against her walls. Her hips buck forward, and my free hand grips her ass, fingers creating divots in her soft skin.
She begins to quake. “Like that, exactly. Oh. Like that.”
I want her to give me everything. I want to give and give, so when she gets what she wants, I’ll know I was the one responsible.
Eve sits on my lap to get as close as possible. I like her this way. I’ve been pulled to the face painting station to act as another test subject for Evelyn’s attempts at honing her skills before the festival. After our time in the closet, I was called back on stage to run through the songs I skipped out on. I should have known that Alina would have insisted. It was worth it.
Around us, most of the vendors are breaking down their stations since there’s barely any food left. With the musical acts wrapped up, ’90s rock hits crackle through the ancient sound system.
“What are you painting?” I ask as Evelyn nibbles on the end of her cheap paint brush.
Using her thumb and forefinger she moves my head from side to side for inspection. “Hearts for now, but I’m thinking about putting my name all over you.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Because it’s a bit more subtle than yelling that you’re mine from the rooftops.”
“I appreciate your self-restraint. But if you wanted to, you could. It wouldn’t be too much,” I tell her. “You’re never too much.”
“There’s the other fact that I’d have to stop touching you to go up to said rooftops.”
“Smart choice. I like you where you are.” I pull her closer which causes her to drop her hand. When I have her where I want her, I run my nose along her neck until I reach the collar of the sweater and I plant a kiss there. Delighted laughter bubbles out of her.
“I thought so. Now hold still,” she commands then leans back.
She dots the brush into the paint then grabs my face again. The brush is cool as it swirls across my skin. It’s an effort not to kiss her again right on those lips that are parted in concentration. After a few more brush strokes she gets more paint and deposits more hearts on my face. Once she’s done she leans back and nearly tips off my lap. My hand steadies her.
“Almost,” she says as her eyes narrow. A spark lights her eyes and she smiles. In a swift motion her body dips down then she presses her finger into the paint then swipes it messily on her lips. She leans in, planting her lips firmly on my forehead then moves to either side like she’s working a stamp. She does it again and again. A smile tears across my face, growing wider with each kiss.
When she’s done, red is smeared all over her soft lips. Using my thumb, I swipe some of it away. I paint the remnants on my own lips and return the favor. The marks are faint where I’ve pressed them to the apples of her cheeks.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“Like mine.”