Chapter 12
Evan Ashton almost kissed me.
He was going to kiss me.
I could feel his breath on my lips and the pulse of his wrist beneath my hand.
And then, I stopped him. Like a complete, utter idiot, I told the boy I’ve crushed on forever that I didn’t want his mouth on mine. I don’t know what the hell got the best of me at that moment, but it was like I knew I couldn’t handle him kissing me today. Not with all of the other junk floating around in my head.
I would have let Evan kiss me and let it go further because he was feeling bad for me. Or I was feeling bad for myself. Since I’ve come back, I’ve felt like this victim that he’s pandered to because of my situation, and I don’t want him to kiss me just to make me feel better.
He all but confirmed that any physical intimacy between us would be just that—no emotions tied to it. A hookup is what he’s looking for; the only thing he’s looking for.
Okay, maybe he didn’t say exactly that, and I’m the one who suggested I couldn’t handle a relationship in my life right now. But I only said that because of all the complications surrounding me at the moment and because when it comes to him, I have to guard my heart a bit.
For him to readily agree that he also wasn’t looking for any kind of long-term thing? Well, that kind of stings. He fired off those words like he didn’t ever want me to get the idea that something between us could get serious.
That alone makes me sag with relief that I didn’t let him kiss me. I don’t know if my heart and my huge, harbored crush could have survived if he had used me for sex and then tried to make excuses about why we couldn’t be more to each other.
I’ve gone years waiting for him to notice me, and now that he finally has, maybe that can be enough. Isn’t the satisfaction of knowing he was about to kiss me enough?
At least I can tell myself that. Because I can’t risk another letdown, and Evan would surely be one if we got close. History has shown me that all my fantasies about him will probably never come true.
Pacing the small foyer of Alana’s house, where I’ll be staying for the foreseeable future, I try to calm my mind and refocus on what matters right now.
I spend the rest of the day trying to come up with a plan for how to come up with fifty thousand dollars before I turn sixty years old. As of yet, I haven’t found a positive way to spin this. I’m going to be strapped with my mother’s debt for years to come, and the idea is absolutely depressing. It’s a bill I hadn’t anticipated, and I’d already been weary of being in the world all alone while starting my career.
Either I stay in Hope Crest and work three jobs, trying to dig myself somewhat out of the hole before accepting an actual hospitality position, or I leave for a new job and pay rent on an apartment in some other city while paying off the mortgage here as well. Both options don’t seem good, and not for the first time in my life, I wish I was born to a mother who cared a smidgen about her child.
That type of thinking won’t get me anywhere, though. I know that. So it’s best to shoulder past it and keep moving because no one is going to pick me up by my bootstraps except myself.
Warren’s offer echoes in my head. And wouldn’t it be so easy to let him handle it? If this debt was wiped off my plate, I could start the life I’ve been anticipating. It’s so tempting to just let someone take care of me for once.
But no. I’ve gotten this far in my life by doing it all on my own. And there is an immense sort of pride that comes from that, one I don’t want cheapened by taking the easy way out this time.
The door opening has me jumping near the bottom of the stairs. “Oh my gosh.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Evan’s hand whips out in apology, like he might touch me to comfort me, but then pulls back.
“I just didn’t expect you home so early. You’re usually at the restaurant pretty late. Like I’m asleep before you even come home,” I explain, still spooked from his early appearance.
More than that, I’m not sure if we’re tiptoeing around each other because of what happened in the kitchen this morning.
“My mom and dad wanted to have a quiet meal in the dining room for their dating anniversary, so they said they’d clean up. I thought I’d come home and be a human being who had a life for once.”
“You call coming home to your platonic roommate in this small town a life?” I quip.
“Well, it’s not New York City at two a.m., but I’ll take it.” He grins.
What I thought would be extremely awkward is only mildly so, and my lungs take their first full, deep breath, knowing that he isn’t going to make this weird.
“No, it’s not,” I agree, because I went to college there and had a couple of memorable nights.
Not so many because I was a scholarship student working twenty hours a week to pay for any extra necessities. But there were a few times that I let myself enjoy all the craziness the city had to offer twenty-something women.
“I could use a beer. You want one?” he asks, and I think it’s his way of breaking the tension even further.
If we both went to our separate rooms right now, the broken kiss would only simmer between us. The divide would grow wider, and it would become this thing between us. More than anything, I do not want that to happen.
“Sure.” I take the metaphorical white flag.
As much as I don’t want to be another notch in his bedpost, I still can’t help wanting to be around him. Not only is he gorgeous, but there is this magnetism about Evan that draws me to him.
As we walk into the kitchen, Evan shrugs out of his thin jacket, leaving him in only a T-shirt and cargo pants that hug his ass in a way that should be criminal. I went for cozy and comfortable in black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, and relaxing with a beer on the couch sounds like a good way to unwind tonight.
After he grabs an IPA from the fridge and hands me the same, we walk into the living room in a surprisingly comfortable silence. Evan takes the couch, so I cuddle up in the leather armchair on the other side of the end table. Sitting on the same cushions right now seems like a bad idea since we’re both trying to dissolve the awkwardness but not giving voice to it.
“You know, I feel like we don’t know much about each other.” He points the neck of his bottle at me.
I have to bite my tongue because I definitely know more about him than he does about me. “Oh, yeah?”
“And we’re roommates now, so we should fix that,” he proposes, and I can’t quite stop staring at the fleck of foam on the upper corner of his right lip. “Yes. So … what’s your favorite color?” He smirks.
I chuckle. “Ah, getting so deep already, are we? Hmm, red. But not the bright, obnoxious kind, and I’d never paint my walls that color. I love the deep kind, like Christmas. Or the color of pizza sauce. Or the tip of your nose when it’s snowing and cold outside. That color always reminds me of fond memories.”
Evan blinks at me like I’ve shocked him with my answer, and it suddenly makes me feel self-conscious.
“What’s your favorite holiday?”
“Christmas, of course.” He tips his head to me like I just supplied some of his answer for him when I said the color red. “The big tree, the family dinner, cozy by the fire with a spiked apple cider and holiday rom-com. Yeah, I’m a sucker for that.”
That’s the Christmas I’ve always dreamed of, and a spike of jealousy spears me, but I push it to the back burner.
He smiles, sipping out of the longneck. “How about yours?”
I don’t want to say none of them because I haven’t truly experienced any of them the right way, so I settle on something cheesy.
“Valentine’s Day. It’s a girl’s stupid fantasy, right?” I crack the joke.
A flit of a frown passes over his mouth, like he doesn’t buy what I’m selling, but he doesn’t say anything. “Okay, if you had to be eaten by a lion or stomped by an elephant, which would you choose?”
The absurd question makes me burst out in a loud laugh because it’s so out of right field. “Let me think. Hm, probably stomped by an elephant. Blunt force trauma would mean I’d probably be passed out by the time I died, and then at least I wouldn’t have to see the blood from lion’s teeth. Also, you never said I’d have to die, so the elephant stomp gives me the greatest odds of survival.”
“Morbid but good logic.” He nods sagely as if it was the most serious question he’d ever asked someone.
“Favorite meal to make someone?” I throw out, finishing my beer.
Evan notices and rises to grab two more, coming back and putting the same distance between us after he hands me the drink.
“Pizza. And if you ever tell my family that, I will deny it.”
“Surprising,” I remark. “I thought you personally hated that side of the family business.”
There is a faraway look in his eyes. “I’ll admit, it’s not the most culinary of masterpieces as far as the food I’ve cooked goes. Doesn’t even come close in most cases. But there is something about the comfort of pizza, the creativity to make it anything you want it to be. And my family … well, it’s in our blood. Watching someone take that delicious first bite and just close their eyes and sigh? It’s perfect.”
I grin. “It really is, seen it many times on the faces of the kids in the restaurant. It’s always special.”
“Special,” he muses, locking eyes with me.
Throughout the next hour and a half, we talk like friends. No one mentions the kiss. And it’s … pleasant. I realize that while I know a lot factually about Evan, I’ve never heard him talk about his likes and dislikes. He explains his journey and goals in a way that makes me able to see them, like a movie is playing in front of my eyes. He’s more sarcastic than goofy, and I feel myself blush every time I go on a tangent and find him hanging on every word.
For a while, I forget why I didn’t let him kiss me. I forget the horrible way my mother treated me, even in her death, and I just let myself dive into the conversation without judgment or presumptions.
By the time I make it upstairs, after my third beer, I’m tipsy and happy. Honestly, I feel lighter than I have in months, and tonight is definitely the highlight of my week. Especially when Evan lingers on the other side of the hall, just outside his door, and bids me good night.
I walk into my temporary room and grin like the schoolgirl I was all those years ago, getting giddy over a boy who finally knows a little something about her.