Chapter 5
five
. . .
Sitting at Aunt Sue’s table for dinner was normal. Sitting directly across from Evan McLeod?
The strangest experience I’d had in my life thus far.
I was anxiously chewing pieces of my salad and staring down at the white plate below. When I stood next to Sue in the kitchen chopping the lettuce a half hour earlier I could only think about how Evan was about to be the one eating it. Those plush lips of his would wrap around the leaf and—
I needed to knock it off. It was ridiculous assigning such weight to these little things.
Of course Evan would be eating the lettuce, of course he would be sitting at this table.
It was a continued uncanny convergence of worlds.
This was the same table I would sit at and help Sue knead masa dough to make pupusas as a late afternoon snack, or write for hours on end as a teenager when I was angry with my mother.
Now Evan was sitting in the chair I’d sit in while Sue gave me French braids that I’d keep in for days until my mother made me take them out.
The problem wasn’t that Evan was some asshole distant untouchable figure. In fact, as dinner went on it was clear he was the exact opposite.
He was deeply engaged with Sue and Randy, he leaned in close as Randy shared stories of his years working on a crab boat in Alaska. It seemed like this experience was heavenly for Evan, three complete strangers who seemingly didn’t give a shit about who he was.
I wasn’t supposed to see him from this close. He was a painting and I could see each individual brush stroke and covered-up mistake.
Sue would ask him questions about his work—not because she was enamored with his celebrity, but because she was polite and genuinely curious about his occupation.
She asked about Sword of Thorndown as if it were an accounting firm.
I flinched when Sue completely misunderstood the plot of the show or any of the characters.
My inner fan was itching to step in and correct her, but I wouldn’t dare blow my cover.
I reminded myself that this cover wouldn’t matter so much since I’d decided that Evan and I would only be seeing one another during dinners and at a distance around camp.
Evan thought otherwise. He’d been studying me for the last twenty minutes. His stupid blue eyes tracked up and down my body as I stiffly sat across from him. As though I was some fascinating anthropological subject and not, statistically, an extremely average person.
“What do you do for work, Dani?” Evan gently directed the questions away from himself and towards the only other person at the table, me.
Fuck.
I almost exclaimed it but caught myself.
My name had exited from his mouth completely unprompted, I almost jumped from being startled by it.
I looked up from the last bits of salad I was pushing around the plate.
It took a few seconds to even process what he was asking after the initial surprise of being acknowledged by him.
What did I do for work? I had managed to wipe my memory completely blank. I write fanfiction about you! my id wanted to scream.
Work. Paycheck. The office I spent forty hours a week in. Remember that?
“Oh,” I squeaked out. “I work in Human Resources…at a tech company in Boston.”
How boring my day job sounded in comparison to his.
Of course I could talk for hours about my job, sometimes I had to when recruiting executive-level candidates, but it’s not like Evan McLeod cared how I spent eight a.m. to five p.m. every day.
Then again, he was looking directly at me right now. I could even say that he appeared—or at least pretended to appear—genuinely interested in what a “normal person” did at work.
“Tell me about it, do you enjoy it?” His soft blue eyes nearly bore into my skull. Heat was creeping up my neck.
“Yeah, I really do actually,” my tone was unintentionally clipped.
Why did I say it like that? I had no reason to be short with Evan, aside from my subconscious need to stay on guard.
“I really like working with people, and I like getting people excited about their work. I work on the recruiting side, so I consider myself a professional office hype-woman.” I chuckled nervously.
This was exhausting already. Thorndown constantly occupied the outer fringes of my mind. My fandom was now an elephant in the room that only I could see.
I most certainly wouldn’t mention the Thorndown quote I had hanging on a poster in my office, cleverly disguised as a corporate girlboss style inspirational quote.
A normal person—or anyone who wasn’t deeply entrenched in Sword of Thorndown —could read “there’s enough for everyone, now take what’s rightfully yours,” and not immediately think of the season five finale of the show when Sir Erwyn’s father grabs him by the shoulders and encourages him to storm the gates of Meridien to destroy the Cult of Gadsbee.
A normal person would see some poster and assume it was bought from a TJ Maxx clearance bin.
Evan smiled at my answer, the corners of his eyes crinkling again.
“I know little about corporate America, obviously,” he laughed in a self-effacing manner.
“But my sister owns a small marketing agency out in Edinburgh. She said the same thing about her job. I believe she also used the words ‘hype-woman.’ I’m not sure I could ever succeed in an office job, I’m far too restless. ”
“I save my restlessness for my off hours,” I reply. A grin played at my lips. Evan McLeod managed to charm me, dammit.
“That must have been why I saw you run off earlier.” His tone was light and bubbly.
It’s…strange.
The Evan sitting across from me was entirely different from how he had in nearly every interview I’d seen of him. On talk shows or on red carpets he always appeared to be very calculated in his answers, seemingly disinterested at times.
It had actually caused a rift in the fandom, claiming that he didn’t hold the same “heart of valor” his character had. I guess I had unfairly assumed that this was the Evan I’d be interacting with. I was surprised that wasn’t the case. Pleasantly surprised.
This Evan was agreeable, warm, and genuinely kind.
Though I could never ever think about him or Thorndown again after this week, at least it wasn’t due to him being a complete dick.
He sheepishly raked his hands through the mess of light brown waves on his head as we faced each other. Neither of us broke away.
What was happening here?
“Dan, you know, Evan was planning on hiking to the falls tomorrow,” Sue mentioned offhand, cutting off our prolonged eye contact.
She was referring to Horseshoe Falls, my absolute favorite trail. I’d planned on hiking it, though I hadn’t formalized any plans. I was craving the solitude of sitting atop the rushing waters.
“Ah, yes!” Evan exclaimed excitedly and clapped his hands together. “Randy told me it’s the best hike around here, and virtually no one goes because of how remote it is. I’d love to see some untouched nature, if you’d be willing to be my guide, of course.”
Evan looked genuinely thrilled about the prospect of going, even more so about having me as his personal tour guide. By now I must have been fuschia from how much I’d been blushing.
I did know the trail incredibly well, and I also knew that the hike would take up a good portion of the day.
My entire Monday would now be spent stuck in the woods with Evan McLeod serving as his personal guide.
The reality set in. This was forced proximity dialed up to an eleven.
From the piercing stare Sue was giving me, I knew I couldn’t back out of this. This would be payment for the free accommodations. Fate was cruel in that way.
“I, uh, definitely can,” I’m too anxious to match his excited nature. “There’s a swimming hole at the bottom of the falls if you want to check that out too?”
Maybe there was a way I could drown myself there and let him get back to camp by himself.
“Absolutely,” Evan grinned widely, his teeth were charmingly real albeit still a dazzling white. “If I’m going to make the trek, I should get the full experience.”
The enthusiasm was almost unsettling. It had to be superficial, he was being nice to the camp owners and by default, pleasant to their weird, antisocial niece.
Maybe once he was away from them he’d let his true personality show, I could get some confirmation that he wasn’t perfect.
Even if he was a bonafide asshole, it’s not like anyone would believe me. Hell, no one would believe he was even at camp this week.
“Is eight thirty ok to leave?” I asked, anxiously tapping my fingers on my thigh. My throat was tightening. I wanted to leave the table and retreat to the cabin so I could scream into my pillow again. Or go for yet another run.
Evan rested his elbows on the table, unintentionally, or maybe intentionally, flexing his arm muscles. Those absurdly sexy arms were taunting me now. “Eight thirty sounds perfect, Dani.”
I twitched every time he said my name, his Scottish accent punctuated the vowels in a crisp rhythmic way.
If I hiked a high enough mountain could I get enough cell service to call Andrea and scream about the entire situation?
“Great,” I gritted out. “I will see you at eight thirty, then.”
I slid my chair back and stood to clear my plate, at which point Evan reached across the table and grabbed it, “allow me, you and Sue worked hard on this meal I’d be remiss if I didn’t make some contribution.”
My face was burning, I was screaming internally and wondering why he hadn’t turned out to be a completely entitled Hollywood asshole. It would be so, so much easier.
Sue clasped her hands together, “how kind! Randy can help you bring them to the sink.” She nudged her husband who begrudgingly got up and picked up the remainder of the dishes.
“Thanks,” I muttered before slipping out the door.
The walk to my cabin swiftly turned into a jog. There was about an hour of daylight left, enough time to go for a quick run. Again.