Chapter Thirty-Three Scarlett #3
It’s not until after dessert that I find Evan camped out in my room.
I’m sure the phone call ended a while ago because I’ve not heard his voice, but I didn’t want to come in and interrupt in case he needed some time, but it’s getting late.
He’s standing by my window, his hands pressed on the windowsill with his head hung between his shoulders.
I step up behind him. I place my palm on his back, rubbing in slow, firm circles until he lets out a deep breath. My voice shakes. “Is everything okay?”
He sniffles, and he turns to me. “Yeah, it was Howard Han actually. He just wanted to go over a few things for the internship.”
His eyes are a little red like he’s been crying. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yeah.” He sighs, bringing his hand to his chest and pressing his palm there. “Yeah, it’s good. It’s supposed to be. But I don’t feel so good.”
I step closer to him, trying to get his green eyes to focus on me, but he doesn’t. He can’t. “Come. Sit down.”
He listens to me, dropping one elbow to his knee and covering his face with his hand, the other still rubbing furiously at his chest. I kneel down in front of him, trying to get him to look at me. “I feel like . . .”
I grip his hand, pulling it away from his heart and into my hands instead, steadying the shaking. “Hey, just relax, Evan,” I say, smoothing my fingers over his knuckles. “You don’t have to explain anything to me just yet. I need you to breathe first, okay?”
I watch him take in multiple deep breaths, each one sounding steadier.
I’ve never seen him like this before—so panicked and overwhelmed.
But I get it. It happens to the best of us.
All people need in moments like this is someone to be there for them.
So that’s exactly what I do for him. He eventually settles, and he tilts his head back to the ceiling, taking in a few more breaths.
When his eyes meet mine, and he’s more settled, I give him a warm smile.
“I think it just hit me that I’m not doing anything I planned right before I start senior year,” he whispers.
“I want to do this. I want to see where this internship could lead, but I’m also terrified it might not work out.
Then I’ll have to start again. Start planning and strategizing my future all over again. ”
“You don’t have to have everything figured out right now,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. “I definitely don’t, and I probably won’t for a while. A loose plan will always help, but things change.”
“I hate change,” he murmurs, letting out a short laugh. “I know I can do it. It’s something I’ve wanted for so long. It’s just going to be hard.”
“I know, and it’s okay to be a bit scared. I get it.”
We stay like that for a few minutes before I sit on the bed next to him. He wraps his arm around me, tugging me into his side, and I drop my head to his shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispers, his free hand clasped around mine. “Thank you for everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I scoff. I lean up, looking into his eyes. “This is what I’m here for. To help talk you out of your mind. God knows you do that for me without even trying. I’ve got your back, Ev.”
His eyes shine. “You do?”
“Yeah. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”
He grins. “That sounds kinkier than you think.”
“You think back-scratching is a kink?”
“It could be,” he murmurs. He leans in to kiss me, but I back away, falling onto my bed. He laughs, following me as I try to scramble away from him. “Come on. Lemme scratch your back.”
“No,” I laugh, my giggles uncontrollable as I poke my foot in his stomach. That only makes him laugh harder, and I give up my struggle when he straddles me, pinning my arms above my head. He blows a raspberry into my neck, and I forget how to breathe. “Leave me alone!”
“No,” he says, leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over my chest, pulling the strap of my dress down to get more access. “Lemme scratch your back, Scar.”
I give up on my fight because the more times he says “scratch your back” the harder I laugh and the less my limbs work.
It gets worse when he starts changing his accent.
My stomach is hurting. It’s worse still when he stops kissing me altogether and starts whispering the filthiest things to me and telling me every way he’s going to fuck me tonight, followed by a very abrupt “Lemme scratch your back.” I’m panting, wiggling beneath him, and I can’t help but let him keep telling me he’s going to scratch my back.
I pause at the sound of footsteps, but Evan gets one more “Lemme scratch your back, darlin’ ” in before we turn toward my door. Junior stands there with his mouth wide and a packet of chips in his hands.
“So . . . I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see that,” he says slowly, backing out of my room. I squeal and slide from under Evan’s grip, giving Junior The Look as I usher him out of my room.
“I-It’s not what you think,” Evan utters, so I turn to give him an are you fucking serious? look.
“It’s exactly what I think,” Junior says, grinning, as he gives Evan a thumbs-up. He turns back to me, his smile unwavering. “If it’s country accents that get you going, that’s perfectly natural. It’s not really my business but—”
“You’re right. It’s not your business. Bye!” I say sweetly. I slam the door on him, lock it, run back to the bed, and smother Evan with all the love he deserves.