30. Evelyn
30
Evelyn
I roll over then spread out on the bed. When I open my eyes, I have to take a moment to adjust to the sunlight. I can’t remember the last time I slept until the sun was all the way up. The sound of running water starts, coming from the bathroom. I guess that’s where Garrett went, then. He’s still here, which is good. He didn’t run, but what does that mean for this morning? How do I continue at the level we got to before bed last night in front of Quinn and Oliver? Especially now I know exactly what it’s like to be with him.
The door to the bathroom swings open. My eyes take their sweet time skimming from the waistband of his low slung sweatpants up his torso.
“Having a good time over there?” he asks as he twists to close the door behind him.
“It’s a good view,” I croon. “So…” I trail off inviting him to play along.
“Quinn and Oliver headed out. They knocked on the door this morning pretty early to let us know,” he rushes to say.
“Oh.” I guess that’s it then, and now I’m sitting on the sheets feeling like a horny idiot. “I guess it’s good that we shared the bed then, since they saw.”
“Thought you’d want to know. And yeah, it worked in our favor,” he says. A blush creeps up his neck to reach his ears. Okay, at least he’s not completely unphased. “I’ll finish getting ready in the guest room. I just wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t just leave.”
I nod dumbly for a few seconds. “Great. Thanks.”
He leaves and I wait until I hear the sound of the guest room door closing behind him before I grab the nearest pillow and scream into it. This, of course, was a mistake because it smells like him.
Stupid. How could I be so fucking stupid? Why did he have to be cute by going and downloading that damn movie? All it took was a few flirty touches and a genuine moment of interest and I latched on to the most relationship-adverse man I know.
We manage to maneuver around each other throughout the morning. I walk into the kitchen to grab cereal just as he’s finishing his bowl. I accidentally bump into him, causing the milk to splatter all over his shirt, so he has to go change.
Nice, smooth fucking move.
He’s still upstairs when a knock sounds at the door just before ten. I empty my bowl and hurry to the entrance. “Garrett! They’re here!” I call up the stairs as I pass by.
When I open the door, Quinn’s attention keeps shifting to something I can’t quite see.
“Hey, I’m ready but give me five to make sure Garrett is done putting product in his hair,” I say. One of the sole benefits of this morning is now I know my belief that he takes longer with his hair than I do is completely founded.
“Yeah,” Quinn says, then her eyes flick to the side again. “Can you get him soon because there’s this lady on the swing who says she’s his mom.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I mean, they look alike if you ignore the clothes. See for yourself.” Quinn hooks her thumb, and I lean out using the door frame for support to poke my head around the corner.
Sure enough, there’s a woman with gold blonde hair tied up in a ponytail using one leg to rock herself back and forth on the porch swing. A leather jacket is draped over the legs of her faded light wash jeans. When she turns to wave at me, I get a good look at her blue eyes. They’re not Garrett’s eyes, but many of her sharp features are so close to his. The flat tip of her nose, the expressive lift of her eyebrows, and other small things that I recreate in my imagination more often than I care to admit.
“Do you know if they have a phone charger in the car? I still haven’t had a chance to recharge my phone after the blackout,” Garrett says as his footfalls thump down the stairs. I can’t even appreciate that he was so in the moment last night he didn’t care about his phone.
“I think someone's here to see you.” The words tear out of my throat as I watch Garrett peek outside to see what the rest of us are already looking at. He doesn’t shatter the way I know I would.
He turns to ice, cold and stiff. Old Garrett.
Not mine, not mine at all.