Page 36 of Waiting For Ever
“It’s calledParadise. It’s by a popular romance author of the eighties, weirdly enough. I found it at a secondhand bookstore and bought it for the title alone. But I love it.”
“It’s a good title.” I pause and raise my hands out at my side, purse my lips together and tilt my head to the side as if to say,I guess it’s time to do this. I bring my hands back together lacing my fingers and rest my elbows on my parted legs. “Sylvie and I . . . had a thing.” I feel the embarrassment like a weight around my neck. I want to be better for this girl. I want her to think I’m better than I am. The weight settles in that empty spot in my chest. “Just physical and only a few times. I thought it was mutual. And I think it was at first. When it got weird, I ended it.” I pause in case she wants to say something. She doesn’t,so I add, “I’m sorry she came at you. I wish you’d told me when it happened. I promise I’ll be talking to her about that. It won’t happen again.” I say all this looking Ever squarely in the eyes, so she knows I mean every word.
“I just don’t want to cause any problems. For you. Or Allie. And I really don’t want to cause any problems for me. I don’t have any other towns to run away to.” She adds the last part with a half smile and a shrug.
“You’re not causing anyone problems. This isn’t on you. This is the fallout of my poor decisions. This is what happens when guys think with their . . . when they don’t think.”
She purses her lips together in a straight-lined smile but says nothing. Her eyes say it all.
“Don’t give up on me, Ever. I’m going to fix this.” I reach across the little table and clasp my hand around hers, never breaking eye contact. “If I’d known . . . if I’d had any idea I’d meet someone like you, I’d have never given Sylvie the time of day. And I’m not hating on her. I’m just saying, I never thought I’d ever want to feel anything below the surface. Sylvie was surface. I thought it was for her too.”
She crinkled her nose. “I get it. I do. It’s just . . . icky.”
“Hmph,” I snorted. “Fair. And I admit, through this new lens . . .” I wag my finger between us to imply her and me. “I might have to agree.” I turn her hand over and draw lazy circles on her palm. “Truth?”
“Always.”
“Does that mean that you think I’m . . . icky?”
“It would simplify things if I did. Wouldn’t it? But no. Believe me when I say I get being closed off. It’s just way less acceptable if, say, I,a young girl, chose to go . . . scratch an itch with a man twenty years older than me.”
Leaning my head back on the lounger, I wrinkle my nose at the thought of Everly with some old guy. Or any guy. Except me. I want her all to myself. I love that I’m the only one who’s ever seen her in the height of pleasure. I want to be the only one to ever see it. I look up at the sky as I bring our joined hands to my chest, stretching her arm out straight across the table and our forgotten coffees that are surely cold now. Fingers intertwined, I press the back of her hand over my hollow heart tattoo. My boxers pull tight over my junk at the image of her in my arms coming apart for me alone, my thin joggers doing nothing to conceal it. I prop up my knee that’s closest to her to camouflage it.
Her train of thought must mirror mine because she brings up the sleeping arrangement I proposed on the way to get coffee.
Chapter 29
Everly
It’s finally the night before camping season begins. Lilly insists on celebrating tonight, before we get so busy “we won’t even be able to even go pee.” That’s a direct quote. She invited herself to stay the night at Allie’s with me, after our pre-season bonfire at Brew. Pete’s bonfire is flaming in the rock-lined fire pit. His wife, Shelley, and their kids are roasting marshmallows. Lilly and Noah’s little sisters hunch over their phones, heads huddled together, sitting two to a chair around the fire. The glow dances off their faces as they trade tea back and forth.
I didn’t tell Lilly about my sleeping arrangement with Julian, but she knows we’re . . . something. I don’t hide that we’re interested in each other and neither does he. We just don’t make a habit of flaunting it with PDAs—especially at Fit.
That day over coffee, Julian and I agreed to sleep together—just sleep—and to take everything else slow—his suggestion. And I must admit, I’ve never slept so soundly. The waiting I solve by journaling. Abstinence seems to be the key to unlocking a creative streak. Although Idon’t get why we’re waiting, other than his desire to take it slow. I can only imagine how Julian is dealing with waiting, but he seems perfectly fine with it and curiously relaxed after longer than normal showers right before bed. Although I can’t confirm this and he wasn’t offering, I find it . . . weirdly respectful, if not frustrating. And it obviously does its intended job, because he gets into bed and spoons me, and besides nuzzling my neck and a soft kiss on my cheek, he doesn’t touch me.
On that first night of our arrangement, I waited for him to join me after his shower breathless with anticipation. Then . . . nothing. I wanted to be disappointed—I was, if I’m being honest—but his restraint gave perfect book boyfriend energy, and frustration aside, I’m here for it. Plus, I don’t really know what I’m missing . . . yet. And I took my own edge off after I knew what to expect with his long showers. Still, I wished it were his hands instead of mine.
With Lilly sleeping over, Julian offered to stay at his own place tonight. He said he needs to be at Brew early tomorrow anyway, so it’s more convenient. I suspect he’s just giving us space and friend time, because everything is more than ready for the first wave of the season. Forget book boyfriend energy, it’s just perfect boyfriend energy. And I know he’s not my boyfriend, but our little arrangement is sure channeling relationship vibes.
Lilly returns from the deck and hands me a Solo cup as she takes the seat next to me. I take a tentative sip, knowing the last cup of liquid burned my throat from start to finish, but it gives me a warm, slightly numb feeling. I haven’t felt anything like it since coming here and honestly wasn’t sure I ever would again, but Blue Lake and the people here feel safe.
So did the Oak Valley crew once.
I push that thought away and take a sip of the new cup. It’s delicious and doesn’t burn like the first one. Lilly’s “famous jungle juice” she calls it. I can tell by how easy it goes down it’ll sneak up on me and put me on my ass. I vow to pace myself. But letting things fall out of focus feels so good, like I’ve been juggling nonstop since I got here, and tonight I get permission to let the balls drop.
Julian watches me sip the new drink from across the bonfire. The orange glow on his face makes him even more gorgeous, if that’s possible. I ignore the concern in his eyes. I know he won’t bring it up in front of Pete and Shelley. Hell, he even edits himself around Noah and Lilly. But I know I won’t be able to ignore him for long.
“I’ve gotta pee,” I announce to Lilly as I stand up and set my drink on the wide arm of my Adirondack chair.
“Want me to go with?”
“No, no. You just got back. I’ll be quick.” I turn and head for the stairs and bathroom inside Brew.
Coming out of the Brew bathroom, I collide with Julian’s chest. Clasping my arms, he steadies me. I snake my arms around his neck intending to kiss him. My inhibitions disappear with the alcohol buzz along with my discretion, apparently. It doesn’t occur to me to check if anyone else is around.
It must occur to Julian though, because he reaches up and takes my hands off his neck and holds them in his. Never taking his eyes off me, he drops my hands to my sides, places his on either side of my face and brings my lips to his.
Maybe he’s not.
