Page 8 of Waiting For Ever
Wait! What? Dude, collect yourself.
I head back to the stairs to cancel right as she steps off the last step into the foyer. Her smile is unnaturally bright. Forced?
“Ready?” I hear myself ask instead as she simultaneously echoes me.
“Ready.”
Mine a question. Hers a statement.
Chapter 9
Everly
Ican’t trust my dreams anymore. Maybe that’s why I don’t sleep very well. Oak Valley ruined sleep for me. And dreams. Maybe I ruined them for me. I woke up thinking Julian was touching me, then he was there in the doorway. Was it a dream? The last time I thought I had a dream like that, it wasn’t. It was a nightmare. Except it happened. Just not how everyone said it happened. I don’t care what anyone says. I would not have come on to Chase. I may never be able to prove it, but I know what I know. Now that I’m gone, they can find someone else to torture and accuse of ruining their privileged, plastic lives. I know me. I know who I am. And drunk or not, I would have never done that to anyone, but especially not to someone I called a friend. I deserve to have this day, with this beautiful guy. In this beautiful place.
I quickly stash my journal with the hastily scribbled entry into the nightstand drawer next to my bed, bounce up and head to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I drag a brush through my hair, pinch my cheeks and head back into my room, grab a hoodie and sneakers and head downstairs. I tell myself I’m only getting the layof the land for my future job of managing visitors and campers. I might even already know the places he plans to show me. I ignore my racing heart, my dry mouth and the slight tremor in my hands. At the bottom of the stairs, I look up and come face to face with the one that’s wrecking my nervous system.
“Ready,” we say in unison. Mine a statement, his a question. We both chuckle, again in unison, then smile and . . . blush? I know I do because my face feels hot. But to see the flush on Julian’s face gives me pause. It’s equal parts sweet and empowering. To know I have that effect on him makes my palms sweat.
I giggle and refrain from saying ‘jinx’ and sounding young. “So, what’s the plan? Where do we start?” I say it with a confidence I don’t feel.
“I want to show you my favorite place. But promise you won’t tell the campers?”
“Oh, easiest promise to keep. Should we pack anything? Water, uh . . . anything?”
“I grabbed a few things. We should be good. We’ll head to the café after, and I’ll make us some food.”
What is he doing to me? He’s going to show me his favorite placeandmake me food? So far, he really is as good as a book boyfriend.He’s not your boyfriend.
Instead of taking the trail, he takes the top off his Jeep and opens the passenger door for me. He hands me a hat and says it’ll keep my hair from tangling and keep the sun off my face. I’m not used to people looking out for me, but I think I love it. At least when Julian does it. After the bullshit of the last three months—or let’s face it, five years—this protective vibe is piercing my heart. Someonelooking out for me or giving a shit at all is melting me. But who am I kidding? It’sthisspecific someone behind the piercing and melting. The butterflies in my stomach can attest.
His radio plays country rock low in the background. He drops his ball cap on his head backward like an afterthought and backs down the driveway. With his hand on my seat, he looks over his right shoulder. His scent coils around me—clean, earthy and a little sweet. I fight the urge to close my eyes and inhale. Instead, I snag my own ball cap off my lap and flip down the sun visor. Using the mirror inside it, I pull a few strands of hair down in front and snug the hat down behind my ears. I dig for my sunglasses in my mini backpack, glad I threw them in at the last minute. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hide his effect on me. He’s worked his way into my subconscious already.
Maybe you don’t have to hide it. You can be the girl you think you are with him. He doesn’t know you or your past.
I close the visor as he shifts into drive on the road. Before he returns his gaze forward, he smiles at me, his dimple winking at me from his right cheek, so close to his lips I can’t help but stare for a second. That full bottom lip has my tongue pushing its way past my own lips to moisten them. With a half smile, I break our gaze, grateful for the barrier of the mirrored sunglasses, and reach into my bag for the lip balm I always keep on hand. I slide it quickly across both lips and drop it back in my bag as he proceeds down the road and around to the café. The drive takes less than five minutes, and I don’t question why we drive instead of walk. I like riding in his Jeep. It smells like him—sandalwood, maybe. The urge to lean in and inhale the place on his neck right behind his ear has my fingers curling into my palms hard enough to leave indents. I feel like one of the female main charactersin my books, getting swept off her feet by some broody thirst trap of a man.
Life isn’t like make believe, Ev. The girl doesn’t always get the boy. Breathe, babe!
“. . . I want you to . . .”
“What?!” I gasp as Julian opens the passenger door and offers me his hand. I realize too late that I’ve cut him off mid-sentence.
He half laughs and repeats, “I want you to . . . see the other half of the trail. It leads right to my favorite spot.”
“Ohhh, yeah, can’t wait.” I take his hand because it seems rude not to. It’s warm, like his smell. And soft, which I didn’t expect from all the dumbbell lifting he does. But it’s smooth as it envelopes mine. I don’t want to let go.Down, girl. Just stop, Ev!
“Stop, Ever.”
Huh?
He pulls on my hand to halt my steps toward the trail, then drops it as I stop and turn to face him. “I want to run inside and grab my sunglasses too.”
“Uh, sure. Where exactly are you grabbing them from?”
“My apartment,” he replies, pointing toward the building next to the café. “It’s above the garage that stores all the equipment in the off season. It’s not much, but it’s perfect for me and convenient to both jobs. And it’s a steal because I’m the unofficial property manager when we’re shut down.” Grinning proudly, he turns and says, “I’ll be right back.”
Taking the stairs on the side of the building two at a time, he disappears. I knew there was a second story above the garage, but I didn’t know it was an apartment. Or that Julian lives there. I want tofollow him, to see where he lives. My curiosity grows by the second. I bet it smells like him. I take an involuntary step to follow him in my fascination but stop short. He did not invite me, and his apartment is none of my business.Heis none of my business.
