Page 4 of Hostile Exchange
Waiting on Natalie to get out of her band tryouts is boring as hell. With no other way to kill time, I find myself going through Evan’s phone. His calendar is ridiculously detailed. Apparently, on top of his full course load, he also has two jobs. Lucky for him, today is his off day, because there’s absolutely no way I’m going to flip burgers or play maid to a bunch of finance bros. There are no games on here—definitely a serial killer—and he barely has any messages. Most are from “Birth Giver” asking to be picked up from the same address. A quick Google search reveals the address belongs to a shady dive bar.
Finally!I hit pay dirt when I open his photos app. Turns out Evan Matthews has a thing for taking dirty pictures of himself. He may be an asshole, but the man has a body that is 100% my type.Not that anyone can ever know that men are my type.Here in the silence of the car, I allow myself a moment to fantasize. Kissing lips that are surrounded by stubble instead of petal soft skin. Licking along his sexy adonis belt. Biting into his perfect bubbl—
Like a record scratch, I’m pulled out of the fantasy when the passenger door opens. An older version of the girl I ran into this morning plops down into the seat and smiles brightly at me. The genes in this family are strong.
“I did it!” Natalie exclaims. “Got first chair and everything! Simone swore she was so much better than me, but I showed her. She wishes she was half as good as me!” Suddenly, her smile drops and her brows furrow. “The extra expenses for travel and uniforms won’t be a problem will it? I don’t have to do this. I know you already work super hard.”Jesus, this kid can’tbe more than thirteen. Who has to worry about money at that age?
“Don’t worry about it, Nat. I’ll make it work. Promise.” I make a mental note not to make Evan a liar in this instance. I’ll pay for the girl’s band expenses myself if I have to.Evan will just have to swallow his damn pride.The way her face lights up at my reassurance makes me happy to be the son of the wealthiest man in town, for once.
When we pull up to the Matthews’ trailer, the door is wide open, and a woman, who is stick thin and looks to be in her fifties, is passed out on the steps. “What the fuck?” I rush out of the car and up to the unconscious woman. Natalie trails behind me, rather slowly considering the situation. I’m reaching for the phone in my back pocket, when Sarah, the ten year old, pokes her head out the door.
“Oh good! You’re home,” she says. “I couldn’t get her inside by myself. So I just left her there, but I made sure to turn her head to the side like you said.” She looks so proud of herself. Natalie brushes past me, stepping over the woman, as she enters the house. I know my face is doing something crazy, but I have no control over it at this moment.How can they be so unbothered by an unconscious person?
Suddenly, the woman releases a snort and rolls over. Her glassy eyes struggle to focus on my face. A goofy grin spreads across her face, and she reaches an unsteady hand out to me. “Evan, sweetheart. Be a good boy and help Mommy inside.” Her words are so slurred they’re almost unintelligible, but I understand enough to put two and two together. This is apparently Evan’s mother. All the texts with the bar address make a lot more sense now.
Once I have Ms. Matthews on the couch, the girls are quick to surround me.
“What’s for dinner, Ev?” Natalie asks.
“I’m starving,” Sarah adds on.
“It’s your night to cook,” Natalie presses.
“Nothing gross like last time, Evie,” Sarah says.
Well, fuck. These girls are in for a rude awakening if they expect me to cook. I’ve never cooked a day in my life. A quick check of the pantry does nothing to settle my nerves. Boxed mac and cheese is the only basic item there. Everything else requires preparation, and some level of cooking know-how. Thankfully the two pizzas in the freezer save the day.
“How does pizza sound?” I ask, and the girls squeal in delight. Surely, I can manage a pizza.
Spoiler alert: I, in fact, cannot manage a pizza.
Chapter Five
Reese
Monday rolls around, and I’m a little nervous. I haven’t seen Evan in person since our confrontation on Friday when all this began. We did text over the weekend, and it wasn’t all bad. We seem to have formed a very tentative truce. We’re back on campus today, so we’ll see how we do face to face. We agreed to have lunch together, which is why I am camped outside the student union waiting for him.
The way he holds his side as he walks tells me that he has been introduced to the real William Kensington. I wait cautiously, not sure which version of Evan I’ll get today. When he plops down on the seat opposite me at the picnic table and mumbles out a quiet “hey,” I rule out the hostile version of him.
I set the brown paper bag that Natalie and Sarah gave me this morning in front of him. He looks at it and raises his eyebrows at me. “The girls gave that to me this morning. They said they could tell something was wrong and that this would fix everything. You look like you could use a fix right now.” His small smile sets off the butterflies in my stomach. As he pulls the items out of the bag, his eyes fill with moisture. “What’s wrong?” I ask
Swiping at his eyes, he shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. This is just our special thing. There was a time right before I turned eighteen, when the girls and I survived on peanut butter and jelly for a few weeks. We were so sick of it by the time my birthday finally came around and I could apply for assistance. This was actually around the time when we first met, at the scholarship ceremony. When I got approved we went to the store, and I let the girls each pick out a single item that they wanted without any thought about price.
Natalie picked bread and butter pickles because green was her favorite color at the time. Sarah picked out marshmallow fluff because she was obsessed with the phrase “it’s so fluffy” from that one movie with the yellow guys. They made me pick out an item too. I went with the brand name frozen waffles. I convinced the girls they tasted better, but really I just didn’t want to get anything too expensive.
We ended up going home and having marshmallow fluff, pickle sandwiches with waffle bread. It was absolutely disgusting, but the girls were just happy to be eating something besides peanut butter and jelly. It became our go to meal when one of us needed cheering up. So I make sure to always keep the ingredients on hand, no matter how low on cash I am. They made this as an act of love.”
When he buries his face in his arms, I keep quiet, allowing him to process alone. After he collects himself, he sits up and begins dividing the sandwich. When he hands me half, I’m shocked. “They made it for you,” he says with a shrug. I pull the offering to my side of the table and take a tentative bite. He bursts into full body giggles when I gag.
“That is the worst thing I have ever tasted.” I say, reaching for my water bottle.
He nods, but still takes a massive bite. “It is,” he says around the food in his mouth, “but it means a lot to the girls. You get used to it after a while.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I mutter as my mind reviews everything he’s just revealed about himself. His mention of the scholarship ceremony makes my stomach sink. “Can I ask you something?” He must hear the seriousness in my voice, because he puts down the abomination he’s pretending is food.
“Sure…” he says, cautiously.
“The scholarship. Is that the reason you hate me?”
