Chapter Seventeen #2
“It’s good,” I agree, though in truth, I do not know it.
Kelly rolls her eyes. “You need a drink, and stat. What’s got you so uptight?”
“I’m not.”
Not uptight, per se. As I’ve said before, I love a good reason to get a bunch of my friends together and let loose. But ever since Everett and I formed this secret relationship, I’ve found that being around a lot of people is kind of a hindrance.
Right now, I can’t touch him. I can’t hold him against me and feel the beat of his heart. I can’t accept his surprise kisses or his flirty, wholesome compliments.
“You’re pouting about something,” Kelly adds. “I know you well enough to notice that.”
“Maybe I’m just tired,” I counter, raising an eyebrow as she rolls her eyes again.
“You seriously need a drink.”
“Then I better go get one. I’ll be right back.” I release her hands and head back to Everett, just as he’s done finishing the cider.
He looks up from his task as I approach, preemptively grabbing an empty cup.
“One cup for me, please,” I request sweetly.
“One cup coming up,” he mutters.
I watch him scoop out a generous amount of the drink, his lips tilted into a frown. I’m unsure what he’s so upset about, but I can tell he’s no longer in a partying mood.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just… why didn’t you want to dance with me?”
Oh. That is what’s getting to him.
“Well, dancing with Kelly is safer,” I tell him. “With all of these people around, I mean.”
A firm expression coats his features, and he sets the cup before me with a heavy thunk. “Safer, huh? Got it.”
“Are you mad?”
“Nope. I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” But as he says it, he turns away from me, washing his hands in the sink so that I cannot read his expression. “Alright. I’m going to hang out with Henry.”
And then he’s gone. I have a very distinct feeling Everett is mad, but I don’t understand—I’m keeping this secret because he needs it kept, so why am I the bad guy here?!
Not that I can ask him about it now. With all of these people around, I can’t really do anything. So, instead of confronting him, I drink.
I drink, and I drink, and I drink.
By the time I return to the makeshift dance floor, the room is starting to swim. My fingers are tingling, and my skin feels hot, but my mood is lifting.
As Kelly dances with one of her girlfriends, I shoulder my way in, watching her face light up.
“Sky!” she cheers. “You look like you’ve caught up on the drinks!”
I chuckle, gripping her hand in mine as we hop around. “I did.”
“Aw, are you a dog? You look so cute!” Kelly’s friend coos.
I give her a smile, attempting not to cringe because I’m not a dog; I’m a puppy. There is a big difference.
But instead of pointing that out, I say, “Thanks. I like the cheerleader uniform.”
All around me are costumed college students. Mummies, zombies, and vampires. Werewolves are scattered about, and there is no shortage of intentionally slutty characters.
I’m pretty sure I saw a college girl take on the Pope earlier.
It’s kind of a trip, being this fucked up and seeing all the various costumes. It feels like I’m in a fantasy novel that swallowed a horror film. As I spin, stage makeup passes by in a blur, my eyes unable to focus on any one person.
I feel amazing. In this moment, I am not focused on my lack of physical contact with Everett or his irrational anger. All I can comprehend is how beautiful my life is now, and how that little version of myself that sits inside my soul, angry and malicious, has not seen the light of day in weeks.
How can I be angry or vicious when every moment that I breathe is so full of love?
“Did you upset Ev?” Kelly suddenly asks, and I stop spinning, stumbling as I search for her face.
She steadies me as I reply, “Did I?”
“I don’t know, but he’s been glaring at us for five minutes now.”
I’m looking around the room wildly, attempting to spot him and failing miserably. Finally, Kelly grabs my shoulders and turns me, pointing straight ahead.
And there Everett stands, so beautifully illuminated by the various string lights hanging above.
I’m so in love with you, I think to myself, and I think it must show on the shit-eating grin I’m now sporting, because Everett’s stern glare softens. His lips tilt upward, just slightly, as his brows relax.
“He certainly loves looking at you,” Kelly mutters into my ear.
My grin grows, and I lean back against her on unstable legs. “You think so? Can you tell?”
“I can definitely tell,’’ she assures me. “He doesn’t like it very much when others do it, though.”
How wonderful! Everett can be jealous in so many ways—I’ve seen it. But hearing from an outside source that he’s obvious with his jealousy? Hot, hot, hot!
“Oh, and here he comes. I guess I had my hands on you for too long.” Kelly’s voice is light and full of humor, but I pay her no mind as Everett draws nearer.
He looks devastatingly handsome in this moment, with his fae costume and his hungry eyes. I’m almost nervous as to what I might do to him once he reaches me, even with all of these people around.
“Oh, god,” I mutter, watching as he pushes through the crowd, anticipating his voice and his energy.
“You two are so obvious,” Kelly whispers, finally releasing my shoulders.
And then suddenly Everett is before me, staring down at me like some kind of twisted Prince Charming. I can tell that he’s trying not to smile, which I find odd.
Oh, that’s right. He’s supposed to be mad at me.
“Evie,” I greet. “Are you still pouting?”
A single eyebrow raises, lifting to hover below his perfect blond hair. “I thought you were supposed to be nice to me when you’re dressed like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like a puppy.”
I flush, feeling the heat travel down my throat and into the collar of my white crewneck sweater. Visions of us tangled beneath my sheets, his voice in my ear, cloud my brain. I really want to touch him.
But I have some common sense, and as his hand reaches for me, I clumsily side-step it.
“You should know me better,” I chastise, and even while drunk, I can see the hurt in his eyes.
Everett leans in, not quite touching me but close enough to not be heard by anyone else over the bumping of the music. “What I know is that under all this sass and defiance, you are such a submissive, sweet boy.”
Excuse me!? He’s going to say this right here and now? While I cannot touch him or come up with a witty, sarcastic response? Oh, he’s in for it!
“Everett,” I scold sternly, “you are being bad. A very bad, cruel man.”
A small smirk forms over his lips as he replies, “You would know plenty about being cruel and bad, wouldn’t you?”
Some distant, sleeping part of me wakes—and in its resurrection is fear and sorrow. Truthfully, Evie has no idea just how cruel and bad I can be. Would he still love me if he knew? If he saw what I have done?
I am uncomfortable with how close he is to understanding—with the line he skirts so carelessly, all the while I am petrified of him seeing what lies on the other side.
So I turn away from him, unwilling to let him cross over to this side of that truth. Kelly is standing a single step away, eyeing us curiously.
“Should we dance some more?” I ask her, stumbling forward.
She catches me, sending a weary glance over my shoulder. “Of course. Everett, do you want to… Okay. Never mind.”
I peer behind me, watching Evie’s retreating form as he disappears into the crowd.
The car is vibrating, jostling my core in a way that has me nauseous.
“Slow down,” I groan, leaning forward in the passenger seat.
Everett is driving us back to my apartment, his lips set into a thin line. We barely spoke after he left me on the dance floor, and a few drinks later, he’s dragging my drunk ass home.
“I’m going the speed limit,” he replies blandly.
I’m too fucked up to fight him, or to truly understand where his shitty attitude is coming from. Did I dance with Kelly for too long? Is he still mad that I wouldn’t dance with him?
I’ll ask him once we’re inside, and I’m not on the verge of vomiting.
As we pull up to my complex, Everett helps me out of the car and keeps his arm firmly around my waist as we ascend the stairs and he unlocks the door.
Yessss, my home! Now I can just be Skylar, and not Volley Sky, or Socially Acceptable Sky.
Everett drops me onto the couch and heads into the kitchen, fiddling with the fridge as he very obviously pretends I’m not here.
“What is your problem?” I slur, glaring at him over the kitchen bar.