evie

I’d spent every night since I’d come home at Dash’s apartment, but I still hadn’t found the nerve to have the conversation.

I knew I’d have to, but every time I started to say something, I told myself the timing was off.

To be fair, it’s not as if I’m not stressed out beyond words as it is.

In addition to the text I’d gotten from one of my classmates saying they’d spotted the deleted pictures circulating around freaking campus, Mason was starting to get suspicious. My go-to excuse of catching up with friends had started to wear thin by the third day. Not only that, he’d asked me about New York again last night before my cab arrived, making my head spin. Up until two weeks ago, my life was fine, on the verge of perfection even.

Ten days in a cabin with the man I’d called an enemy and everything’s gone to shit.

My loving relationship had turned out to be a nightmare, my ass was plastered all over the internet, my dream job is now something I looked at with dread and I’ve fallen in love with someone who I can not only never have, but probably wouldn’t even want me if I could.

To top it all off, I have an assignment due on Monday morning and I’d barely started it.

Fuck my life.

As the cab comes to a stop, I lean forward and hand over my fare, thanking the driver. I step into the small, bi-level house I’d called home my whole life and lean against the doorway, taking everything in.

“Anyone home?” I call out, silently relieved when I go unanswered.

I love my family and have enjoyed being with them more than words could ever say, but right now, I need to focus.

I have to figure this shit out before I get back on that plane.

I toss my bag onto the counter and make a beeline for my bedroom, digging out an old t-shirt and shorts, tossing everything else into the hamper. The shirt I’d been wearing still smells like Dash, his unique scent all over me offering a combination between comfort and heartache all at once.

I inhale his scent before tossing it in with the rest of my clothes and head back downstairs to the garage. I’m praying for an escape and for once, my next step is easy as I step into my fathers’ studio and breathe easier almost instantly.

“My life might be a mess right now,” I whisper as I spread the sheet out over the floor and release a sigh. “But I still know how to get one thing right.”

dash

The next few days were surprisingly easy, but I could tell something was on her mind. She’d gone quiet and in my experience, a quiet Evie King was almost never a good thing.

Donna had kept her word about not saying anything to Mason and although we’d both panicked before, it turned out to be a help to our situation. During our awkward talk on the plane, while I didn’t give her any reason to believe I had any plans to make any long-term commitments to Evie, I also assured her I had no intentions of holding her back or leading her on.

Today was Saturday and although Evie had left my apartment only a few hours earlier, I was already ready to see her again. Mason had called and asked me to come help him move a dresser for his mom before my shift started at the bar tonight. Even though I couldn’t have been less interested, I agreed, knowing I’d have an excuse to see her.

The sensation of wanting and needing someone when you’d never wanted or needed for anything before was one I couldn’t get used to. If I’m being honest, it was one I didn’t want to get used to. For so many years, it was me and my mom against the world, the rest of civilization little more than supporting cast. When she passed, I got used to doing it all on my own with the exception of the extended family I’d found in Mason and Donna.

The thought of anyone new coming in and disrupting my life was scary enough.

The thought that it could be Evie was downright disturbing.

Shaking my head clear, I make my way to the front door of Mason’s house and knock two times before letting myself in. I don’t see anyone inside, but I can hear music blaring from the garage, so I know someone is home.

Another quick glance into the living room and kitchen and I see no one, so I follow the familiar sound, unable to pinpoint the track until I swing the garage door open.

It’s then that I see her in the middle of the mostly bare room, an old white sheet in the middle of the floor and a canvas more massive than any I’d ever seen up close. Paint is splattered everywhere, the abstract piece she’s working on slowly taking form as her hands fly wildly to the beat of… ‘I Want Your Sex’ by George Michael?

Really?

I’ve known her for nearly half my life now and I’d seen some of her stuff, but I’ve never taken the time to watch her work. Not because I have anything against art, I just never gave a shit about Evie.

Things are different now, though.

Now I give a shit. Too much.

I shake the anxiety that comes with the thought and prop myself against the doorway, watching her silently. She’s wearing a loose t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, a pair of short, fitted cotton shorts and nothing else. Her long, blonde hair is thrown on top of her head in a messy bun, tendrils falling on the sides that frame her face, free of makeup, but dotted and smeared with blue and black paint.

The tempo of the music moves faster and as it does, she begins to move with it, her hips swaying as she bobs her head and sings along. The last minute of the song fills the room and she chants along with him, hitting every high note as she thrusts and spins in front of the canvas, paint flying wildly.

In the past two weeks, I’d seen her fall apart in a heap of beer bottles, lose it in a hotel lobby, fly down a mountain and throw her head back, screaming my name in the wildest throes of pleasure I’d ever witnessed. I was pretty sure I’d seen all there was to see of Evie King, but I was wrong.

I’d never seen her like this.

She’s totally engrossed, completely enraptured, unapologetically free.

She’s fucking perfect.

How I’d gone so long fighting what was so obvious now, I’ll never know. But as I watch her, I know in this moment, I’ll never be able to deny it again.

I love her.

I’m batshit crazy, head-over-heels, hopelessly in love with Evie.

Son of a bitch…

I swallow hard past the thickness in my chest, the emotion there almost more than I can bear. I’m fighting the urge to storm into the room and throw her down. When her back arches, I feel my foot lift from the floor to move, my craving too much to fend off, but she throws her head back and shouts, stilling my movements.

“C-c-c-c-c-c-c’mon!”

The overwhelming sense of arousal coursing through me increases tenfold, somehow also making way for the loud, booming laugh that escapes my chest.

At the same time she spins around to face me, her cheeks radiating with heat, the sound of footsteps pull at my attention.

“What are you doing?” Mason asks, his eyes narrowing. “Were you just checking out my sister?”

Fuck.

“Not in this lifetime,” I snort, making her roll her eyes as I pull the door shut. “I thought she was having an aneurism.”