Page 34 of I Wanna Be Your Lager

“No, we’re going to Knoxville to move all my stuff back to Harbor Highlands. Jake sent Lach to help me since he didn’t want to leave the bar,” I say with a chuckle.

Ben laughs. “That sounds like him. I’m sure he wouldn’t even leave if it was on fire.”

“That’s what I’m learning,” I add.

“Alright, I better go take my seat. It was good to see you, Lach. Eve, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I say. I peer over my shoulder as Ben continues to stroll down the aisle to his seat. When I spin around, Lach’s gaze bores into mine with a raised brow.

I roll my eyes. “Okay. Fine. I don’t like it, but I’ll go with it.” I lean against the backrest and cross my arms over my chest.

Halfway into the flight, I feel something brush against my hand resting in my lap. Glancing down, Lach’s arm lays across the armrest. His pinky extends and hooks with mine. An eruption of butterflies takes flight through my body. I peer at him. His eyelashes fan over his cheeks, but the corner of his mouth curves into a smile.

After our connecting flight from Chicago, our plane lands in Knoxville—well technically, Alcoa—and we order an Uber to the nearest U-Haul location, which is three miles away. From there we drive to my rented townhome in West Knoxville, and Lach parks the U-Haul out front.

Lach jumps out of the truck and shuts the door. He meets me at the curb. “This looks nice.” He stands in front of the long, tan rectangular building. A few shrubs and rock landscaping decorate the exterior. Each unit is side by side, but all have their own entrance.

“It served its purpose. Now, it’s time to move on to the next chapter. Shall we get started?”

Lach follows close behind while I unlock the door and push it open. I glance around. I’ve only been away for a month, but it feels like a lifetime. So much has changed since then.

“This shouldn’t be so bad.” Lach rubs his chin, assessing all my belongings.

Unlike Jake’s bland interior, my townhouse is filled with various art and photographs covering the walls. Furniture is minimal but heavy enough that I need a second person.

“No. But I didn’t want to move all this myself. I’m happy it’s you and not Jake helping me.”

“Me too, Sunflower.”

His arm wraps around my shoulder, and he tugs me to his chest. I sink into him, loving his warm body against mine. He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. The sweet gesture makes me want to say “fuck it” to all the packing and we get our cardio in a different way. But he pulls away.

“I’ll grab the stuff from the truck.” Lach exits the front door and, a few minutes later, returns with a stack of boxes we picked up on our way over, along with our carry-on bags.

Luckily, most of my stuff can fit in the boxes, minus a few of the larger furniture items. We devise a plan to box up one room at a time and move it out. We save my bed for last so we have somewhere to sleep tonight.

After we box, tape shut, and label one room, we carry it to the moving truck, playing Tetris with all the items. A professional packer, I am not. I’m more of a “here’s an open box, let me throw whatever is in arm’s reach into it” person. Case in point, the box at my feet holds everything on and inside my nightstand, including a stack of books and self-care items, along with the laundry basket of clean clothes next to it.

The packing tape screeches as I run it over the closed flaps. With the box in hand, I push through the door with my back. The unseasonably hot sun beats down on me as it tries to burn me alive. Mix that with the beads of sweat already sliding down my temple from packing, and I’m a hot mess. Both physically and mentally. I juggle the box with one hand while attempting to rub my face against my shoulder.

“Eve!”

My entire body tenses from the familiar voice. I forget how to breathe. The box tumbles from my grip and crashes to the sidewalk, splitting the side. Two books, along with a variety of lingerie, scatter across the sidewalk. My bright pink vibrator rolls across the concrete and comes to a halt against a pair of brown loafers. I’m frozen in place, an icy dread gripping my heart. Not only is the last guy I wanted to see here, but anyone walking by gets a front-row view of my vibrator.

“You’re back. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” Pax says, his tone sharp.

Crouching down, I grab everything off the sidewalk and shove it back into the box while trying to make sure nothing else escapes.

“Pax, what are you doing here?” Stretching across the sidewalk, I reach for my vibrator, but Pax bends down and scoops it up before I can. My head drops. Son of a bitch.

“I’ve been driving past your house like every day. I sent you numerous messages.” His arms flail through the air like an inflatable tube man.

I climb to my feet. “Yeah. I’ve been ignoring those.” The outline of his body comes into focus. I shield my eyes from the sun and frown when I spot his fingers wrapped around my vibrator. My head throbs. I’m going to need to burn it now.

“There’s a big wedding coming up. So I?—”

“Pax, I quit,” I say firmly.

His dark brows furrow. “What do you mean, you quit?”

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