Page 7 of The Boy Next Door
Chapter Three
Emma
Gripping the cool edge of the sink, I lean toward the mirror.
Evan acted like it was an actual virginity auction. I try to laugh at how ludicrous that sounds. I mean, we’re only advertising that we’re virgins.Right?A virgin auction, not avirginityauction... Shit! I should have been paying attention when Jessie was telling me about this over the phone. Evan and his damn muscles!
My heart slams against my chest. So what if it’s a legitimate virginity auction?
It’s just sex. A basic human need.
What makes that first time so special, anyway? It’s some idea society has pulled together to keep people from screwing in the streets, that’s all... Isn’t it? And it’s not like the guy I’ve fantasized about losing my virginity to is ever going to jump at the chance.
Hesitation tightens my chest. I didn’t like the disappointed look Evan shot me. But more than that, I hate that he’s trying to play the role of moral compass.
Shaking my head, I push back from the sink. How on Earth does the guy who lost his virginity to our pre-cal teacher, and who paraded a string of girls through his bedroom window in high school, think he’s fit to give me advice on what is appropriate? For the love of all things, guys have such double standards.
Suddenly, there’s shouting from the bar. A loud bang rattles the wall, and just as abruptly as the commotions started, it stops. I brush my hands over my bar apron and slowly exit the restroom. As soon as the door swings shut behind me, I catch Winston on his way out the door. Tables are knocked over; chairs lay on their sides, and there in the middle of the mayhem stands Evan, his back to me. Shoulders rising on uneven swells. “What the hell happened?” I say, starting down the hall.
Evan turns around, and I stop dead in my tracks. His face is bloodied. His shirt is ripped. “Evan?” I whisper, but he doesn’t say a word. He just thumbs under his nose before heading back behind the bar.
“Alcohol and testosterone aren’t a good mix,” Derrick says as I pass the front door.
“No kidding.”
As soon as I’m behind the bar, the sour smell of cheap liquor assaults me. Broken bottles cover the counter and floor. “So....”
“Don’t worry about it.” Evan grabs the broom from the side of the bar and begins sweeping the shards of glass into a pile.
I seize the broom handle, snatch it away from him, and rest it against the counter. “Sit down.” I point at the bar stool, and he begrudgingly takes a seat while I find a clean bar towel. “Evan, I swear...” Shaking my head, I place one hand on his shoulder and use the towel to gently dab at the scratches on his face.
“I hate that asshole,” he mumbles before hissing in a breath when I touch one of the cuts. “Careful.”
“Sorry.”
“Em, please...” He stares at me, his green eyes setting hard on mine. There’s a pause, a second, where the murmur of the crowded bar fades into the background. It’s moments like this I can’t help but wish I could press my mouth to his.
“It was about me, wasn’t it?” I sigh.
Evan’s gaze slowly drifts to the floor and his shoulders fall. I carefully place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my fingertip over his stubble. “You’re sweet.”
He covers my hand with his. “You mean everything to me, Em. Always have. Always will.”
My heart does that stupid pitter-patter thing, and I remind myself that no matter how much I wish it meant more, it can’t. I love him and I can’t lose him, which is why I could never date him—even if he loved me the way I love him. So I smile, kiss him on the cheek, and grab the broom to sweep up the mess behind the bar.
