Chapter Five Everleigh
Chapter Five
Everleigh
Eleven years earlier . . .
I was four when they suspected I was different from other kids. I remembered everything with exceptional accuracy. And my insatiable curiosity presented a unique challenge in raising me.
College at twelve. Undergraduate degree three years later.
By the time I met William Landry, a sexy firefighter, I was a second-year med student at Stanford University.
Of course, I had my pick of any medical school.
And to everyone’s disappointment, I shunned all the Ivy League schools, opting to get as far away from my mom as possible. California was as good as it got.
“Is that a dick?” A tall guy with sandy blond hair, a mustache, and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen perched on the stool next to me at the bar.
I was there with friends from medical school.
It was the first of a week’s worth of celebrations leading up to Victoria’s wedding.
The doodle on my napkin was a detailed anatomical drawing.
Yes, there was a penis, but I didn’t label it like I did the other parts: frenulum, superficial and deep fascias, spermatic cord, perineal membrane . . .
Wadding up the napkin, I returned a nervous smile. “I’m a medical student.” My voice shook. He smelled of cologne, the rugged wilderness kind, not the overbearing kind rich guys wore with three-piece suits.
“Are penises going to be your specialty?” He smirked before nodding to the bartender and ordering a beer.
“You mean a urologist? No, and they specialize in more than penises. They deal with the kidneys, bladder, adrenal glands, ureters, urethra.”
He took a slow swig of his beer before offering a lopsided grin.
“But yeah, if you need help down there, I suppose a urologist could be considered a penis doctor. However, that won’t be my specialty. Who wants to look at that all day?”
He coughed behind his fist to hide his laughter. “Tell me about it,” he said. “Every time I take a piss, I roll my eyes like, ‘Jesus, not this again. I’m so tired of looking at that flaccid glob of skin.’”
It was time to abort. Make a run for it. But I immediately liked this tall guy with an addictive sense of humor.
“Cheers to that,” I said, tapping my water glass to his beer mug.
His grin doubled. “I’m Will. Are you in med school with Victoria?”
“I am. Are you one of Tyler’s groomsmen?”
He nodded. “I am.”
Will had a tiny mole beneath his left eye, like a little beauty mark. He also had a jaw that looked as strong as his broad shoulders, stretching his white T-shirt.
“Are you an accountant too?” I asked.
“Firefighter. Tyler and I were childhood friends,” he said, blue eyes assessing me as he took a long pull of his draft beer.
Victoria said I needed some life experience to be a good doctor.
It wasn’t my fault that most of my fellow med students were in their mid-twenties to early thirties, while I was a month shy of my eighteenth birthday.
In hindsight, an evening at the bar just off campus wasn’t the best way to gain life experience.
But Victoria had dried the hell out of my amber-dyed hair until it was straight and silky, and she applied enough makeup to make me look twenty-seven instead of seventeen.
Push-up bra.
Tight jeans.
Heels.
And a fake ID.
Will looked at me as if the glow-up was a believable success.
Before Victoria abandoned me at the bar, she said, “Order white wine and drink half the glass. There are so many hot guys here tonight. And remember your ID says you’re twenty-five.”
I smiled stiffly under Will’s appreciative gaze. No man had ever looked at me like . . . a delectable meal.
“Can I get a red wine?” I said to the bartender, then I quickly shook my head. “White. White wine. Here.” I slapped my ID onto the bar.
The bartender with a long black ponytail glanced at it and slid it back to me.
“Everleigh. That’s a unique name,” Will said, scraping his teeth across his lower lip, which made me perspire more than usual.
In fact, I rarely sweated in stressful situations because I’d become accustomed to being the smartest one in the room, which meant there was no need to feel stressed. At least, that’s what my mom had always told me.
But my IQ did nothing for my confidence in a bar filled with intoxicated, rowdy people, and unfairly handsome guys like William Landry.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll tell my parents you approve. My dad wanted to name me Shabnam after his mother, Shabby for short, but my mom vetoed it in favor of Everleigh.”
Will paused his beer at his lips, then he smirked just before taking another drink.
The bartender set my wineglass in front of me, and I sipped it, unsure what to expect with my first taste of alcohol. A bitter taste and burning sensation. Yuck!
“Not a fan of white wine?” Will asked.
“I should have gone with my gut and ordered red.” I shrugged.
“So are you in your second year like Victoria?”
I nodded. “Yes. Second year, just like her.”
“Tyler said Victoria spends an ungodly amount of time studying. I can’t imagine that level of dedication,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m sure she does.” I glanced around the bar because Will was too sexy for lengthy stares.
“I’m sure you do too.”
My gaze returned to him. “Study?”
He nodded.
“Of course. But I’m uh . . .” I twisted my lips. I couldn’t tell him I was a genius. That seemed like an arrogant confession so early in a meeting. And the point was to fit in and gain experience, not to list my academic accolades. “I’m a quick study.”
“Is that a humble way of saying you’re smart?” He turned on the barstool, and his knee touched my thigh.
There was no wiggle room in the crowded bar, so I had to deal with our legs touching.
“I suppose everyone who gets into medical school at Stanford is smart.” I mentally patted myself on the back for navigating that answer in the most humble way possible.
“Well, smart women are very sexy.” His grin reached his ears before he set his empty glass aside and leaned in closer. “It’s loud in here. Want to take a walk?”
My head swiveled, searching in all directions for Victoria like she was my mom. But my mom was in New York, and my mom’s best friend, Maya, who I lived with, was in Salt Lake City for a business trip. I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen so I could live by myself.
Maya was cool. She trusted me because I had never given her any reason not to. Hence, feeling confident about leaving me alone for a week.
When I spotted Victoria and Tyler across the bar, talking to friends, I hopped off the barstool. “I’ll tell Victoria I’m taking a walk.”
“Cool. Maybe I should tell Tyler too.”
Was he making fun of me? His smile was hard to decipher.
He slid off the stool. “Don’t worry. I’ll get your drink so they don’t send the cops after you.” He deposited cash onto the bar.
I wrinkled my nose. “I was going to do that when I came back.”
Will rested his hand on my lower back, mouth close to my ear. “Our seats will be taken in two seconds. Why come back?”
I barely heard him because I couldn’t focus on anything but his big hand on my back. We wormed our way through the packed bar, and as we approached Victoria and Tyler, I took a quick step to the side so they wouldn’t see him touching me.
“We’re going for a walk,” I yelled over the deafening noise that vibrated so much I could feel it like teeth chattering.
Victoria eyed Will and then me before leaning closer, hand by her ear.
“We’re going for a walk,” I repeated.
She pulled away and grinned, eyebrows raised. Then she leaned in again. “Good choice. Will is trustworthy. Make sure he wears a condom.”
My head reared back. Was she serious? My gaze shot to Will, but he was busy laughing about something with Tyler.
“You can’t be a virgin doctor, Everleigh. I’m sorry. You just can’t,” Victoria yelled in my ear, and I turned red because she said virgin so loudly.
Surely my father would have thought I could absolutely be a virgin doctor, as any good dad did.
As for my mom, well, I think she wanted a normal daughter who went to prom and discussed girl drama after school.
Instead, she got the daughter who provided essays on the psychological effects of girl drama, teenagers, and social media.
And, for the win, a comparison between Isaac Newton’s and John Locke’s theories on the age of reason.
Maya had a drawer in my bathroom with a box of condoms. And sometimes I caught her checking the drawer, only to frown when she discovered the unbroken seal on the box.
I imagined every day she sent my mom a text that said: Still a virgin.
“Can you take her home?” Victoria asked Will, squeezing his arm to get his attention.
I could get a cab or take a bus. There was no need for an escort. I’d just met the guy. Had I ruled out serial killer? Of course not.
Will glanced at me as if silently asking if I was okay with him taking me home and potentially dismembering me while whistling something catchy like the Nationwide insurance jingle.
Maybe not. As a fireman, he was probably more of a homicidal pyromaniac.
But I appreciated his checking with me. It made him even sexier, if that was possible.
Again, I felt a blush settle into my cheeks and perspiration in my pits as I shrugged and nodded.
“Sure thing,” Will said, satisfied with my consent, despite not really being old enough to consent to anything in California.
Tyler eyed us and then gave Will a smile. Was it a foregone conclusion that I would have sex with him? He returned his hand to my lower back and guided me out the door, dropping his hand to his side as we fell in step walking down the hill toward blocks of restaurants.
“Do you live here?” I asked, getting to know the man who would take my virginity or my life.
“Nah. I live in Missoula, Montana. I’ll be starting a new job at the fire department next month. I’m just here for the wedding. I’ve been hiking in Yosemite.”
“By yourself?”