Chapter Three
Elizabeth
“Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.”
King Lear
Chelsea and I ducked into the restroom, immediately falling onto each other in laughter.
“I am going to murder you,” I said, as I checked off that black diamond challenge. “That was a total shit show.”
“Did you manage to get through it without telling him a single truth?”
“Just my name—which he changed to Lizzy something.” That had thrown me for a loop. “I told him I love hiking.” She cackled, and I shoved her. “You’re an archvillain, you know that?”
I felt like I’d survived a head-on collision. I was still alive. Scarred but standing.
“You never would’ve talked to him if I hadn’t dared you to.” She disappeared into the stall, calling, “And he’s super into you.”
A guy that hot, it was a miracle he’d even looked at me. The power of the dare had given me borrowed courage. “Who knew faking a thwarted childhood romance could be such a great pick-up tactic?” Guilt ate at me. “No way he believed all that, right?”
The toilet flushed, and she emerged. “Didn’t he say he was a TV weatherman from Indiana?” She dug out some burgundy lip gloss and leaned into the mirror to apply it.
“Do you think he was lying?”
She shrugged. “How many TV weathermen have you ever met? And why’s he here if he lives in Indiana? Yeah, I think he was using the situation to his own advantage.” She shot me a look in the mirror. “The way he smoldered at you.”
Had he? “But what if he thinks I’m someone I’m not?”
“Guess you’ll have to ask.”
I growled at Chelsea for getting me into this web of lies, then took my turn in the stall, analyzing our every exchange.
He’d asked me about my tuba for Christ’s sake.
Then he’d looked at me with soft green eyes, and every angle of his body announced that he was interested in me.
Here. Now. Not some forgotten schoolmate. Definitely smoldering.
But what if he was playing me, too? Claiming to be from out of town added urgency to our encounter, the easier to score a commitment-free one-nighter with a lonely woman.
I zipped my jeans and opened the stall. “You and Bas seemed to be getting on well.” Trapped in their flirtatious repartee, she’d gotten his attention. “And a chef? Was he tailor-made in a lab for you?”
She blew out a breath. “I am in so much trouble. Why couldn’t he be from Indiana?”
She’d find a way to keep Bas at arm’s length, like always.
I wished she’d open up to someone for once, and not just for a dare.
Everything she’d shared at the bar had been true.
She really didn’t think she was good enough for anyone, which was bullshit because she was smart, fun, and loyal as fuck.
A great best friend. A guy would be so lucky.
I flipped on the faucet and ran my hands under the water, then squirted out the soap. “You think I didn’t notice how you tried to weaponize authenticity to scare him away?”
She handed me a couple of paper towels. “I was being honest. It was either bare my wounds or tell him—authentically—how much I wanted to climb him like a tree.”
I snorted. “Do you want to go home with him?”
“I probably shouldn’t.” She shook her head. “Nothing good can come from spending more time with Bas.”
This was the most interest she’d shown in anyone in a while, so I said, “Look. I’ll ask Evan to walk me to my place, and then you can decide what to do about Bas. Take him to your place if you want.”
She scoffed. “As if.”
No guy ever breached her fortress, but still. “I’m just saying. I’ll play wingman and lure Evan away. Maybe Bas will invite you over.”
She shot me a don’t bullshit the bullshitter look. “You can just admit you want to spend more time with Evan.”
“He’s probably going to ditch me after I come clean.
” I’d have to. Before this went any further, I needed to tell him my real name and start over with boring reality.
This was why I hated meeting guys at bars.
Even when we weren’t explicitly role playing as other people, bar romance was an illusion.
Still, Chelsea was right that Evan intrigued me, and what was the danger in taking a chance? Other than getting murder-holed or catching an STD, of course. In reality, I suspected the worst he could do was make me like him and then ghost me. Did he like me? Was he even attracted to me?
Or was this all a game to him?
I wadded up the paper towels and shot them into the trash for two points. “Let’s get this party started.”
We exited the bar onto the Downtown Mall, Charlottesville’s outdoor pedestrian zone with bars, coffee shops, and music venues. It was practically deserted.
Evan waited, hands in his pockets, looking about as anxious as I felt. I decided to cut through all the bullshit right away and announced, “My performance has come to an end,” bowing like an actress after a play.
He stepped closer. “I’m sorry, what?”
I winced, bracing for the fallout. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Ugh, he was going to make me spell it out.
“Well, for lying to you before,” I confessed.
“About?”
Oh, my God, seriously? Was he just breaking my balls?
“About being friends in high school.” I waved my hands to encompass the whole conversation. “And basically everything. I didn’t mean any harm by it.”
His green eyes sparkled in the streetlight. “You have nothing to apologize for, Lizzy.”
Shit, and I needed to clear that up, too. “And I actually go by Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth?” he said, like he was trying it out.
“Elizabeth Wright,” I added.
“Wright.” He chuckled. “Got it.”
“I hope you aren’t mad.”
“No. I mean, of course not.” He touched my wrist. “I really wish we had been friends, though.”
I slid my arm along his, catching his hand in mine. “We could be now.”
A tiny scar appeared like a dimple under his lower lip when he smiled, a minor flaw that only set the rest of his perfection in relief. “Can I walk you home so we can talk more?”
I sighed. “I’d like that.”
He leaned in close enough to kiss me, but Chelsea yelled, “Text me when you get home, Elizabeth.”
“Yes, Mom,” I shot back before taking Evan’s elbow and leading him toward the Pavilion.
“You two don’t live together?” he asked.
“We used to, but you know. I’m a bit of a clutter bomb, to be honest.” I decided not to mention how Chelsea protected her space, how I wouldn’t have been able to invite him to my house when I’d lived with her.
“You’re messy?” He laughed, like it was somehow surprising, but he literally didn’t know the first thing about me.
“Guilty.” We’d drifted a little apart as we walked, like we’d gone back to square one.
Now that I was free to tell the truth, I felt a little exposed, a little awkward.
It had been easier to interact behind a mask, but I wanted to set the record straight.
“Just so you know, all that stuff I said…” I sighed.
“I don’t like hiking, and I’m actually an avid reader. ”
He threw me a quizzical look. “I don’t get it. Why would you lie about that?”
Fair question. “You probably won’t understand, but I find it hard to talk to people sometimes. It helps to pretend I’m someone I’m not.”
“Actually, I understand that all too well.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He veered into me, our shoulders bumping. “Can I make a confession?”
“Of course.” If he was about to repeat his professed crush on my alter-ego, I might swoon.
“These glasses aren’t prescription.”
I stopped dead to look at him square on. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, they’re just for show.” He slipped them off, and I nearly swallowed my own tongue.
He’d been nerdy hot with the smutty little glasses, but without them, I could believe he actually was a TV personality.
If he’d looked like that earlier, I never would have had the nerve to approach him.
“I dunno. I thought it might make it easier to hang out with Bas without, uh…”
Without getting hit on? Oh. How ironic. “You thought you’d be less approachable in glasses?”
“I thought I could hide behind them.” He grimaced. “Not so?”
I shook my head, laughing. “Definitely not. I mean, I personally have a thing for the dirty librarian look, but has anyone ever told you you’re unfairly attractive?”
He glanced away, and I would have bet money he was blushing. Hot and modest. I was in big trouble. His head tilted up, and I followed his gaze to the sign over the restaurant where I worked part time. “Is this where you ran into Kyan King?”
It had thrown me when he’d mentioned my coworker earlier, paranoid Kyan had sent Evan to fuck with me. But that made no sense. I’d been the one to approach Evan.
“Yeah. Bas and I made the rounds before we ended up at the Skybar. It was a trip seeing Kyan tending bar here.”
Just in case he’d gotten confused by all the tangled narratives, I reminded him, “You know, I never actually knew Kyan in high school, right?”
“Right. I mean, to be fair, I didn’t either. We ran in the same circles, but he was football and I was lacrosse.”
I liked getting these little details to fill in the mystery of Evan. “As it happens, I actually do know him now.” I considered explaining how, but Evan turned to walk on.
“What’s he like these days?”
What was Kyan like? Beautiful, flirtatious, infuriating. “Confident. Sure that the sun revolves around him. Friends with everyone.”
Evan sniffed a laugh. “Mr. Popular.”
“That he is.”
“I felt a little bad to see him tending bar. You know?”
I shot him a look, stung by the judgment. “Why do you say that?”
He shrugged. “He had so much promise, and I guess you just hope to see your old classmates succeeding at a career by now. Right?”
We veered off the mall, onto Avon Street, and I stoked a low-grade annoyance.
What would he think if I told him I not only tended bar, but occasionally inn-sat at a bed and breakfast, all to subsidize a part-time editing gig at a scholarly journal, none of which were helping me achieve my increasingly outlandish dreams of becoming a full-time author?
I’d never intended Charlottesville to be a permanent stop along my rocket-like trajectory to the New York Times bestseller list. Should I tell him about failing to get into the MFA program?
Should I admit I was barely scraping by?
Then he said, “Not that I’m in any position to judge. If Kyan’s happy at his job, who am I to feel sorry for him?”
That was a little better, but his opinion had put a bit of a damper on things.
We didn’t say another word until we got to my street.
As the muffled night engulfed us and the growing silence between us became even more conspicuous, I had a decision to make, and with every step, we drew closer to a fork in the road.
I didn’t care how cute he was, if he was going to be an elitist who looked down on my life or on others, I didn’t want to waste any more time on him.
I slowed my pace in front of the shabby Cape Cod I was renting, and he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. I think I’m just jealous because he seemed content, and I haven’t been in a long time.”
“Why’s that?” I stopped at the edge of the walkway to face him, wanting to hear him out before we had nowhere else to go.
He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up adorably. Why’d he have to be so cute? “I worked so hard to get to where I’m at, and now I’m out of work.” He laughed, sort of bitterly, and shot a glance at me. “What a catch, huh?”
“I don’t think people are defined by their occupation.”
“No, of course not. But people like Kyan float through life, making it all look so effortless.”
He wasn’t totally wrong about that. Kyan lived in the moment, making enough bartending to keep him in guitars and gas money.
If he ever thought past his next tattoo or put anyone or anything above his immediate needs, he might’ve had boyfriend potential.
Still, he’d had his own hardships. “Everyone struggles, Evan.”
“You’re absolutely right.” He shook his head. “Sorry for the pity party. I guess I’m not as much fun as you thought. If you want to call it a night—”
I fished out my keys. “This is me.”