Page 11 of #Awestruck

To be fair, I looked nothing like I had when he knew me. I’d had frizzy carrot-orange hair that had deepened over the years to a much darker shade of red. I’d grown at least six inches and now had curves where I was supposed to have them. LASIK eye surgery instead of glasses. No more braces.

He stood up quickly, like he wanted to hug me or something, and I flew backward, hitting the backs of my knees on the coffee table and falling butt-first onto its surface. Where I knocked over his Awesome Dawson drink on Nia’s dress. “Just great,” I muttered.

Evan offered me his hand, intending to help me up. I didn’t need his assistance. “I’m fine,” I told him through my clenched teeth, trying to brush off some of the pink drink. It didn’t seem like it was going to stain, but now I’d have to get the dress dry-cleaned. I scooted over and got up, putting the couch between us.

As if he sensed my concern, he stayed put, his hands in his pockets. “I can’t believe you’re here. I tried for a long time to get in touch with you. To apologize.”

It was true. About a year after he’d graduated from high school, he reached out to me on Facebook, and I blocked him. Not only because I didn’t want to hear his excuses, but also because I was worried that I might be tempted to cyberstalk him.

Then there was the email he’d sent me. “So Sorry” had been the subject line. I deleted and then undeleted that email multiple times over the course of several months before emptying out my inbox’s trash once and for all. Then I changed my email address.

Admittedly, he probably could have tried harder if he’d really wanted to get in contact with me, but he didn’t. And I’d done everything I could to keep him away.

“Now the hostility makes a little more sense. Come to dinner with me on Thursday. Let me explain and make this right between us. Please.”

I should have agreed. It would have been the perfect opportunity to grill him without him realizing it. But I’d been holding on to my anger against Evan for so long that I didn’t know how to let go of it.

His calling me hostile did not help.

“On Thursday I have to help my sister plan your ten-year high school reunion.”

“Aubrey, right?” When I nodded, he continued. “What about tomorrow?”

“Isn’t Wednesday your hardest day?” Many an NFL player had complained about it.

“It’ll be easy to get through if I know you’ll let me take you out and talk to you.”

He was so cheesy, but sadly enough, some part of it was sickeningly charming. At the very least God could have made him boring and stupid. So that there’d be an easy way to resist him. Oh no, Evan Dawson had to be the ultimate winner of the human race’s genetic lottery.

I wouldn’t fall for it again. “I have an intramural basketball game tomorrow night.”

“Really?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “That’s what you’re going with?”

It did sound like a bad excuse, but it was the truth, and I didn’t owe him an explanation. “That’s what I’m going with.”

He considered me, the right side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I’m guessing if I ask you out for Friday night, you’ll be busy then, too. I don’t know that this has ever happened to me before. Like we’ve already established, usually I’m the one who spends my time saying no.”

I couldn’t help myself. I rolled my eyes so massively hard it could have been seen from outer space, which made him laugh. Even his stupid laughter was rich and velvety and melted another micro fraction of my defenses.

“Come on, Ashton. Have dinner with me.”

“Do you hear that?” I asked him, cocking my head to one side. He went still, listening. “That’s the sound of this, never happening.”

I strode out of the room, head held high. It was the perfect note to leave on. Or it would have been, if he hadn’t been laughing.

I couldn’t believe I’d just had a conversation with Evan Dawson. Where I’d said and done stupid things that amused him. On the plus side, pink drink spillage aside, I looked amazing. So at least I’d always have that.

I nearly ran right into Nia and the very blonde woman I assumed was Tinsley. Nia made the introductions, and I shook Tinsley’s hand. “Those are such cute shoes!” I told her.

I had no idea whether they were fashionable or not, but I’d learned at an early age you could never go wrong with other women by complimenting their style choices. Especially footwear.

“Thank you!” she said, grinning. Tinsley looked like a stereotypical ex-professional cheerleader. Tan, in great shape, perfect waves of long hair cascading down her back, blinding white smile. “Nia tells me you’d like to become involved with our Jumping Jacks program.”

“I can honestly say it’s my favorite charity.”

“Perfect. I’m having tea here this Saturday with some of the other committee members to give out assignments, if you’re interested.”

“Yes!” I needed to rein in my enthusiasm, given their startled expressions. “Definitely. That sounds great. What time?”

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