Chapter Seventeen
Skylar Parish
There is a soft orange coating the evening sky; streaks of pink and blue tangle together behind the scattered clouds as the weeds sway gently.
It is the perfect weather to usher in Halloween.
Little bugs are singing in the distance as I lie in the empty field behind Henry’s apartment complex. From somewhere to my right, far away, a child is laughing. The sound soaks into my skin.
Everything is so simple in this one moment. The air is easy to pull into my lungs, time is crawling by in a sluggish rhythm, and my heart is beating steadily.
Thump, thump, thump—and each beat is for him.
Somewhere inside of that apartment on the first floor, he is cracking jokes with our friends or attempting, and failing, to assist in the cooking. I can see it now, from my spot on the grass, and it plays before my eyes.
He’s so handsome. He’s so kind. He is everything he always has been from the moment we met, and yet somehow so much more.
All of the bright things I saw in him all those years ago somehow burn brighter. Now, when I look at him, it feels as if all of those bright, beautiful things have been created just for me.
It’s a funny feeling to see what has always been in front of you, and how you failed to truly understand it. To see how it mattered and what it was worth.
All the different parts of me—the sweet, the anxious, the vicious, the angry—he cradles them so well. I think that the day he was created and brought into this world, his body was molded to fit mine perfectly. To harbor all of my flaws and the weight of my affection.
I was a blind bastard up until that night on my birthday. I couldn’t see past what he already meant to me to see what he should mean.
And he should have meant so, so much more.
My best friend, my brother from another mother… they were not enough.
No, he needed to be mine. He was meant to hold my soul inside of his.
“Are you sunbathing, little puppy?”
The sound of his voice does not startle me. I have engraved it into my flesh—it is similar to the sound of my own pulse.
“I guess I am,” I answer softly.
Everett stands before me, his gentle honey eyes peering down at me. “Are you not cold?”
“Not really.”
He crouches, reaching out a hand to push the curls from my forehead. It’s so warm, his touch.
“Won’t you come inside?” he asks.
“Can we just sit here a moment?” I counter.
Everett smiles, soft and sweet, before plopping down next to me on the grass. His thigh brushes mine, his shoulder pressing into me.
At every point our bodies touch, a sense of calm rushes over me. The moments in which we connect can have startling differences—ones only dictated by his eyes.
When Everett is like this, all warm and gentle and gazing at me so lovingly, my body becomes lethargic.
My mind blanks and heart steadies. Yet, the second we are in one of those intimate moments that we so frequent, everything speeds up.
My mind will race, my heart will pound, and my hands begin to shake at the sight of his manic expression.
I am then suddenly anticipating. Longing. Desperate.
I love both versions of Evie. I love that I get both. No one, that I know of, has ever been gifted this honor. To him, I am special.
To him, I sincerely think I am everything.
What a pleasurable feeling it is to mean everything to someone else. To mean everything to him.
Perhaps this is the reason I waited so long. Without knowing it, I reserved myself for him.
As the sun sets before us, Everett places two fingers below my chin and turns my head, pressing his lips to mine.
Intentional, gentle, warm. This kiss is the physical embodiment of what his soul does to mine.
Sometimes, in lieu of fucking me, Everett will be overcome by the need to just exist like this, touching and loving and being here together. Nothing more, nothing less.
“You look so pretty today,” he whispers against my lips, his fingers caressing my neck.
“Whatever,” I reply, just as quietly.
This is a moment meant just for us—no one else needs to hear.
Everett grins, sliding his hand back and into my hair. “Halloween is tomorrow. Who will you dress as: my little puppy, or my vicious viper?”
I scoff, turning my face to hide in his palm. “I was thinking a zombie or something.”
“Aww, but you would look so cute in those little ears,” he coos between stifled laughter.
I’m still blushing, so I don’t bother to check his expression—to see if he’s serious or not. If Everett asked it of me, I would wear the dog ears or the snake fangs.
I would do anything.
“You’re ridiculous, Evie.”
“I love it when you say my name.” Those long fingers of his force my eyes back to him, and he kisses me again.
He tastes like forever. He tastes like the very thing I have been waiting my entire life for.
It has been a little over a month since Everett told me that he wants me and about his father, yet it feels as if years have passed.
My body has shaped itself to accommodate him; my heart has left a space barren for moments like these—the ones where we are together, and everything is exactly as it should be.
I have been turned into a poet. Love has made me abnormally sweet and dependent, a shell of the man I was before he kissed me.
And as long as that little piece of my past stays a secret, I can’t imagine a thing that could pull us apart.
I am not meant to be alone; I am meant to be his.
“Our friends could be watching,” I say, pulling from his lips.
“Let them,” he demands.
But is he truly ready for that? I haven’t heard a single thing about his father since that night before midterms, but I imagine he’s still not out. It could prove dangerous for him, after all.
My desire for animosity has nothing to do with a hesitation to be out and stake my claim on Evie, and everything to do with my concern for him.
“Come on,” I tell him, standing and offering him a hand. “Let’s go inside and help with the Halloween prep.”
“They’re just making cake pops,” he grumbles, but lets me pull him up anyway.
“Cake pops it is, then.”
Once inside, we find Henry and Kelly in the small kitchen where they’re bickering over dipping techniques. The room smells of pumpkin and freshly baked cookies, and the walls are decorated with autumn leaves not native to Florida, along with various skeletons, jack-o’-lanterns, and spiderwebs.
I toss the light fleece I wore outside onto the couch and head their way. This night will be full of laughter and affection, and I am ready to soak it in.
The beginning of this new era of my life will be rung in with friends, quality time, and Everett.
Everything is as it should be.
Planning for our Halloween party to take place at Henry’s apartment was a wonderful idea. It’s double the size of mine and a bit closer to campus, so our turnout is better than at my birthday party.
The music is bumping; sweaty bodies are mingling all around the living room and bleeding into the kitchen. Kelly is making more spiked apple cider as Everett queues more songs to the ongoing playlist. Henry has started breakdancing amongst the crowd.
I’m unsure what to do with myself in this moment, but helping Kelly might be my best option.
She smiles as I approach, her witch hat tilting at an awkward angle. “Why hello there, little puppy.”
I flush, giving her an aggressive eye roll. “Don’t call me that.”
“But your ears are so cute! And Ev gets to call you that, even when it’s not Halloween,” she teases.
“Yeah, well… Evie is different.”
Kelly smirks, as if she knows something she shouldn’t. I ignore the expression and grab the cinnamon, shaking a good amount into her fake cauldron.
“Everett is different; you’re not wrong,” she continues. “No matter how hard we try, Henry and I can’t penetrate the bubble you two have.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs, dropping slices of baked apple in the mixture. “Just that you two live in your own world, you know? Even when it’s all four of us, you hardly take your eyes off each other. Especially these past few weeks.”
“You’re overthinking it,” I insist. “He’s my best friend.”
Kelly sighs. “Right. You’re best friend.”
“Kelly—”
“Hey, pup,” Everett interjects, coming up behind us without warning. “What’re you doin’?”
“Helping with the cider,” I tell him, turning around to greet him.
Everett looks like a vision. Almost as if he’s playing some kind of cruel joke on himself, he’s dressed this Halloween as a fairy. The guy version, with his pointed ears, the glitter on his cheekbones, and small, black wings on his back.
His hair is arranged nicely, with some of the same glitter from his cheeks sprinkled in. His clothes are nothing special, just jeans and a tight-fitting shirt, but he looks magical all the same.
I’d definitely let him take me away to his magic kingdom.
“I just added some of your favorite songs to the playlist. Want to come dance?” He’s grinning at me, fingers twitching as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out and hold me.
But come dance? With him? That’s not something two guys who are just friends do together. At least not here in Sinclair. If I dance with him now, people might get the wrong idea.
Or, well, technically the right idea—but one they should not have nonetheless.
“No, I’m okay,” I reply, forcing my own smile.
Everett’s grin falls away, replaced by something confused and mildly hurt. “Oh. Okay. You’re just gonna… stay here?”
“Nope,” Kelly says, popping the P. “He’s going to dance with me. You’re on cider duty now, Ev. Just mix it all up and add the Rum.”
And with that, Kelly grabs my hand and pulls me into the living room. I follow after her dutifully, throwing an apologetic look over my shoulder as Everett watches, his mouth gaping.
But dancing with Kelly is the safer of the two options, with Evie’s home life being a factor.
Something poppy and fast-paced is playing over the speaker, so Kelly grabs my hands and sways her hips, shimming her shoulders every other beat. I play along, doing only half of what she is and with much less enthusiasm.
“I love this song!” she shouts to me, a wide smile on her lips.