Track 17 Evil
“Evil”
I NEVER TEXTED E back that night, or any of the nights that followed. And he didn’t text me either. The next several months went by completely silent—they had to. Because for the second time in my life, I changed my number, and didn’t tell E.
Jake didn’t bat an eye, but I made up a story anyway—I told him I was getting too many telemarketer calls and couldn’t take it anymore. He just said, “Yeah, I hate those,” and we never discussed it again.
I promised myself that it would be my last lie to him. Closing that door with E did make it easier for me to keep going.
My life with Jake was moving right along. Our college career was coming to a close, and Austin had proven to be worth the move. Jake and I started considering whether to stay and plant roots in Austin or find a new city to call home. It was the most “future” I’d ever been able to discuss.
We spent our days enjoying each other. Watching The Office reruns until the punchlines lost their kick and still laughing anyway.
We made pasta at midnight, danced in the kitchen to John Coltrane in mismatched socks, and talked about everything that came to our minds…
except the one thing that sat between us like a ghost at the table, only I could see.
Still, I ignored it. I tried to be all in. I tried to love Jake in the loud, all-consuming way he loved me. But sometimes I caught myself staring too long at my phone, not because I was waiting for a message—I knew it wouldn’t come—but because I remembered what it felt like when it did.
I told myself I was healing. That I was moving forward. That cutting E out of my life was the right thing to do. Sometimes doing the right thing feels a lot like bleeding, but I convinced myself it was for the best. Even if it bled me dry.
It didn’t matter if E needed me, because I couldn’t be there for him the way he needed me to be, and I definitely couldn’t be there for him without hurting Jake. Jake didn’t deserve to be hurt. And I had made enough mistakes in that department. I had to check out.
I did well not to let my mind wander too often.
I started hobbies as distractions when I couldn’t stop.
Jake and I took up running over the winter, which I absolutely hated.
I wanted to bond with him, and I wanted to be a runner, like he was.
I wanted that runner’s high that everyone talked about, but no matter how hard I tried, I’d just end up panting uncontrollably and losing my momentum.
“It’s all in the breathing, babe,” Jake said as he slowed on his treadmill with a sweet smile. “Three breaths in, three breaths out.”
We were in the gym of our apartment building, late one early spring night. It was a rooftop gym that looked out over the city, and it was always empty late in the evenings, when Jake liked to run most.
“I’m breathing,” I panted, and he shook his head as he laughed.
“You’re adorable.”
I smiled at that. He hit the red STOP on our treadmills and came to my rescue.
“Come here.” He held out his hand, and I slowed to take it, hopping off my machine to meet him on the ground.
He flashed that gorgeously dimpled downward grin at me, and my belly lit up with tingling. He brought his hands around my waist, and I ran mine through the damp hair at the nape of his neck.
“I love that you’re doing this for me,” he said. “But you don’t have to.”
“I want to. I want to be a runner.”
“No,” he chuckled. “You really don’t. You hate it, but you keep coming up here every day like you can force yourself into loving it.” We both laughed. “I already know you love me. You don’t have to prove it.”
I gave him a cute grin, feeling relieved. “So you’re saying I can quit?”
“I’m saying please quit,” he begged. “Please, woman, stop torturing yourself at my expense, for the love of God!” I laughed harder, and he chuckled with me. “I can’t take it anymore!”
“Alright, alright,” I said through giggles. “I quit.”
“Thank God.” He threw his head back in mock exhaustion before looking down at me again with glistening eyes. “I was about three runs away from filing a restraining order, stalker.”
I smacked his arm playfully. “You loved it.”
“Don’t push it, quitter,” he smirked.
“Hey, no fair!” I protested. “You begged me to quit.”
He chuckled. “I did, I did.” He pulled me in closer. “It was a good call.” He kissed my nose. “But I’ll miss the way you looked at me when you were trying so hard to impress me.”
“I have other ways of impressing you,” I said, slow and suggestive, my tone rich and warm. I gave him a seductive smile and kissed the base of his sweat-streaked neck.
“Mmm.” His hazel-green eyes grew darker than they had been just a moment before. “You do. But you worked so hard already. Let’s give you a reward for all that effort.”
“I like rewards.”
“I like to give them to you.” His voice was deep and smooth, dangerously inviting.
His eyes twinkled with a wicked delight as he walked me backward to the mirrored wall.
He kissed me deeply as he traced his wide hand down the length of my body, slowly, teasingly, until he found what he’d been looking for.
He pressed firmly against me, and I broke my mouth from his in a moan, responding to his perfect touch.
I loved how well he knew me. I loved how well he knew my body and what would set me off just right.
He worked his hand against me and brought his free hand up to my mouth, covering it, watching as I melted beneath him.
He dipped behind the waistband of my pants, and his fingers found the most sensitive part of me.
My body tingled, and my core clenched as he stroked me gently, rhythmically, until my legs began to shake and it was only him keeping me upright.
“Mmm,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. His smoldering eyes fixed firmly on mine. “Right where I want you.”
He kissed my mouth, my neck, and then went to his knees. He pulled my joggers down just enough, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. We were full of a need that would be taken then and there, and it had me spinning in a world of forbidden pleasure.
I placed one hand in his hair, the other on the wall behind me, bracing myself as I panted in anticipation.
I leaned back and closed my eyes, waiting for the sweet approach of his warm tongue—only to be interrupted by the slam of the gym door, the nighttime janitor entering to make his rounds before the end of the day.
Jake’s eyes went wide as he stood abruptly and covered me with his wide body.
I moved quickly to reset the parts of me that had become disheveled.
He looked down with an amused grin, a playfulness across his face, and I pulled my lips in, biting my smile to muffle my giggles.
My head fell into his chest, and our bodies quaked in silent laughter.
We walked back to our apartment, hand in hand, not embarrassed or ashamed, but full of a mischievous desire that led to an incredible three rounds of steamy, sweaty sex, followed by an intimate shower where we washed and held each other like lovers do.
It was beautiful and sensual, and all the things real love should feel like.
And I didn’t think of E.
Not even once.
That was, until the next morning when Jake woke up and threw on a very specific black hoodie paired with sweatpants I’d seen a million times. My eyes nearly bulged out of my head, and he noticed.
“What’s wrong? Does it not look good?” He looked at his outfit questioningly, as if he couldn’t make a garbage bag look like a Versace suit.
“Where did you get that?”
“What, the pants?” He held them out at his sides between his forefinger and thumb. “I don’t know. Foot Locker, maybe?”
“No,” I tried to remain calm. “The hoodie.” E’s hoodie.
“Oh. I don’t know. I think it’s old. It was in the dryer one day. Must’ve missed it when I took the laundry out. Does it look shitty?”
I blinked, trying to wipe my sight, my brain clean.
“No, no…” I forced a smile. “I just… haven’t seen it in a while.”
At least it wasn’t a lie.
He grinned at me before walking back to the bed and giving me a sweet kiss.
“I love you. I’m gonna go for a run. See you in an hour.” I nodded as he walked out of the room. “I’ll grab pastries on my way back from the shop over on South Lamar!” he called from the door.
And then he was gone.
I was left alone in my thoughts.
And for the first time in months, all of them were of E.
A week later, I got a call from my near-famous sister, Kat, begging me to come home the weekend she would be there.
“Come on,” she whined. “We haven’t been home together in what, three years? Meet me at Mom’s!”
“Ugh, I really don’t want to,” for more reasons than I cared to admit.
“Yeah, I know. I don’t want to either, but I miss Ren, and I can’t handle Mom without you again, so you have to come. And we’ll celebrate your birthday a few days early. It’ll be fun!”
I gnawed at my lip as I debated it mentally.
My birthday was two weeks away and I couldn’t have cared less about it.
I didn’t want to go back to Jersey because I didn’t want to risk seeing E.
I didn’t want to jeopardize what Jake and I had built, and given how weak I was last time with E—how far things almost went—it was a rational fear to have.
Especially since I was happy now—Jake and I were in a good place, and I was finally beginning to like myself again.
Kat didn’t know the weight of her request, and I would never admit it to anyone, so she couldn’t possibly understand my hesitation.
“I’d love to, Kat, but I really can’t. I have so much going on, it’s just…not a good time.”
Kat was silent for a moment, and I thought maybe I’d convinced her. Maybe I was off the hook. But her next words were so clear in tone, I could almost hear her eyes narrowing at me.
“You know how I know you’re lying, Sydney?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Because never, in any universe, under any sun, would you love to go to Mom’s. So cut the shit.”
I chewed on my lip even more.