Page 7 of Waiting For Ever
Chapter 6
Julian
Ipull my Jeep into Allie’s driveway. What did I agree to? But, really, how could I not? Allie has given me . . . everything. I’m not sure I’d even be here if it weren’t for her and her saving ways. And if anyone deserves a retreat, it’s her.
And if Ever stops looking at me with thosesave meeyes, I can do this. I’m not sure she’s even aware she does it, which makes it worse.It’s just house-sitting, I repeat to myself. And I don’t have to house-sit, per se. I just need to be available, in case. Ever and I don’t even have to see each other. Except we do. All day every day at work. Allie did amend the hours at the club and implemented the app access, so Lilly and Noah have more freedom to help us at Brew for the evening shifts and closing. Those two are golden and beyond helpful. I have no doubt we can handle all of this without missing a beat. So why am I hiding in my Jeep like a nervous kid?
Allie left early this morning for the airport. The training program even sent a car to take her to the airport. No wonder she didn’t want to miss this opportunity. It appeared to be first-class all the way. It’sjust Ever inside now. That’s why I’m out here. Why does this girl scare me so much? She’s here on her own—not quite the damsel in distress she seemed to be that first day. I admit it though: She scares me. She makes me feel things I haven’t felt in three years. That’s not to say I’ve been a monk. It’s hard to say no when women, beautiful women, throw themselves at you—with no strings attached. Mostly the bored and Botoxed type, older than me and essentially living at the gym to stave off the certainty of aging. The best part is, they only want one thing from me. No feelings involved and they don’t want anyone to know. Although in a town this size, that’s not possible. I’ve even heard the rumors, and I don’t care. Or I didn’t until now. The cougars, as they’re known, don’t care. I sometimes wonder if they start the rumors themselves to make them feel better about getting older. Either way it has worked well for me, as much as that makes me feel like a little bit of an asshole. I don’t do strings, but I’m human. I’d say we use each other. No one is getting hurt, so what does it matter? I’ve perfected the art of not feeling things.
Until now. Until Ever. And therein lies the fear. The ethereal, haunted gray eyes always watching me, the innocent face, the delicate, graceful frame, the full pouty lips. My body reacting to my train of thoughts makes my point for me. I adjust myself in my joggers to relieve the strain of the fabric and absently rub the tattooed spot on my chest. It doesn’t help that Allie told me she’s heard Ever having nightmares. I’m not supposed to know that. I’m supposed to be here helping hermanagethe house. Which is a thin excuse at best. Ever is an adult—ish. She can house-sit by herself for a few weeks. For God’s sake, she’s moved here to this town where she knows no one except Allie to start over for some reason. She can house-sit alone. Whichmeans I better be good at selling why I’m here—which isnotto babysit Ever. I know her mom is largely absent from her life and that she lost her dad in the service when she was young. Allie told me that. That might be why she’s having the nightmares; Allie didn’t elaborate if she does know.
No matter what this damaged girl is dealing with, catching feelings might mean a walk down memory lane for me. Too many parallels. Summoning memories I’ve buried. Memories I’ve worked hard to bury. I decide right there in the driveway. No feelings. I rub the spot on my chest where my heart is supposed to be—the one that got ripped out three years ago. I subconsciously rub the small tattoo there. An outline of a heart, a reminder that mine isn’t there anymore, and why.Nope, Julian, we’re not catching feelings, my man.Business. It’s just business, and a favor to Allie because I owe her.
I take a deep breath. Then another. I swipe the back of my hand across my upper lip where beads of sweat form despite the chill in the air. I loosen my grip on the steering wheel and open the door.
Chapter 7
Everly
Ihear Julian's vehicle pull into the driveway. You can hear everything out here. It’s so quiet. I keep waiting for the doorbell to chime or the door to open—if he’s house-sitting, he’s got a key. After about five minutes, I peek through the window on the upstairs landing. He’s just sitting in his Jeep. Of course he drives a Jeep. I noticed it in the Fit parking lot the first day I got here and deduced it was his. I’ve just never seen him in it because he always beats me to work. Always.
Why is he just sitting there? When Allie first said he’d be staying here with me while she’s gone, I wanted to be insulted, but the blood rush of spending three weeks alone with him quickly drowned out the insult. I have no business catching feelings for any guy if the last three months taught me anything. My brain knows it, but my body didn’t get the memo.
Where would he sleep? The extra room connected to mine by a bathroom seems the logical choice. Staying in Allie’s room would be weird. We’d most likely be sharing a bathroom. My heart drops at the image of Julian in a towel and what I know hides under it.God, stopalready. No guys! Go read a book. Book boyfriends only.I turn toward my room as the front door opens. Like a little kid I hurry the rest of the way into my room and silently close the door and lean against it to catch my breath.
Instead of losing myself in a book, I sit down on the edge of the bed and take out the new journal I bought for my new life. I haven’t written in it yet, nor have I writtenanythingin three months. Like I’ve been hiding from myself, but I don’t have to anymore. No one here knows what I supposedly did or hates me for it. If nothing else, journaling again could distract me from the footsteps on the stairs. And the door opening right down the hall. The rustling movements of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in real life just on the other side of the Jack and Jill bathroom separating us and our beds, where we’ll both be sleeping for the next three weeks.
STOP, Everly! Just write . . . something.
As I begin to write, I hear Julian move into the bathroom. My brain is tired though from little sleep the night before. Nervous energy about my new roommate? Perhaps. My lids droop, but I put the pencil to paper, willing myself to write, to distract me from my thoughts. I don’t even get one sentence on the page before my eyelids drop.
His touch is softer than I expect. His hands and arms, muscled, promise rough but lie. It’s smooth, gentle. His fingertips feather light as they trail down my cheek, tuck my hair behind my ear. He leans in so I feel his breath on my skin where his fingers used to be. As his lips reach my ear he sighs my name. “Ever.” Only he calls me that. I can’t help the shiver it gives me or the goose bumps that rise on my skin. I like the way he says it. I want him to say it again. He does. “Ever?” A questionthis time. What does he want? I’m right here. I’m already his. I lift my eyes to meet his. To understand what he wants.
“Oh, shit. My bad, I didn’t know you were still sleeping.”
I blink to focus my eyes. Julian fills the doorway of the adjoining bathroom, our bathroom. He turns to go. I rush to sit up—to stop him. I rub my face with both hands to shake off the grogginess and say, “No, no, I wasn’t. I mean, I didn’t sleep well last night so I guess . . . I guess . . . I dozed off for a second. Sorry.”
That half smile I like so much. “You’re sorry for sleeping?”
I feel my face heat up and know I’m blushing. I hate that my face gives me away, because I’ve honed my acting skills—like pretending I’m fine and I don’t need anyone’s help. If my flushing cheeks would stop giving me away. I respond in a way I hope sounds unflustered. Something tells me Julian isn’t that easily fooled.
Chapter 8
Julian
She’s apologizing for sleeping?Even in sleep this girl is screaming “save me.” Allie is lucky I owe her, or I wouldn’t be here, I lie to myself. If Allie didn’t ask, I’d have found a way to check up on her. I wouldn’t be able to help myself, as much as I wish that weren’t true.
“You’re sorry for sleeping?” I try to tease, but I hate that she feels the need to apologize . . . for anything.
“No, no. I just meant you don’t have to go. Did you need something?”
“I thought we could take advantage of the day off.” I hope I say it casually. “Did Allie tell you she closed Fit for the day so we could get settled? It’s officiallyInventory Day.” The last part I say with air quotes. “Maybe I could show you around . . . places besides Fit and Brew.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Uh, give me a minute. I’ll meet you downstairs.” She’s already hopping off her bed, looking around like she’s trying to get her bearings.
I back out of the doorway and close the bathroom door. Standing in the middle of my temporary room, I pat my chest with both hands and look around. My palms stick to the pale blue cotton of my T-shirt. My heart pounds against my ribs. I grab my keys and sunglasses and bound down the stairs to grab a couple ball caps, water bottles and towels. I haven’t felt this . . . excited in a long time. Weird. And terrifying. I want Ever to love Blue Lake like I do. Like Allie does. Maybe she already does. Maybe she already knows the best spots. Allie said her family came here when she was a kid. I ignore my racing thoughts—and heart—and lie to myself that it’s all just a favor to Allie.
It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been attracted to a girl since Taya. But it doesn’t usually stick. There’s always a red flag that sends me running. Weirdly enough, Ever is nothing but red flags—young, seemingly innocent, broken and hurting—and yet I’m not running. I want her.
