dash

Once I make it to the bathroom, something pulls my eyes back and I see her, although I know she can’t see me from where she’s sitting. I can’t help but wonder about the way she was acting in the truck on the way here.

What’s more is I don’t understand why I care.

Evie’s a stone-cold bitch who I’ve never liked, but always dealt with for Mason. The only somewhat friendly exchange we’d ever shared was at my mother’s funeral.

Being an only child of a single mother, the receiving line consisted of me and me alone. I’d looked down at my feet for a moment, biting back the overwhelming emotion, and was surprised to hear her voice softer than usual, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’m so sorry about your mom, Dash,” she’d offered, her eyes moist with tears as she gave me a quick but genuine hug. “She was one of the nicest ladies I’ve ever known.” I was about to thank her when her gaze shifted slightly before coming back to mine. “Are you alone? I thought Mason was with you?”

“He had to go pull the car around for your mom,” I explain quietly, watching her turn to take in the long line still forming behind her. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will,” she said, giving me a small smile and moving to stand beside me. “But no one should have to endure this on their own.”

It had taken a moment for me to realize what she was doing, but as I watched her hold hands with my grieving relatives and hug my mother’s crying coworkers so I wouldn’t have to face them on my own, I couldn’t help but swallow hard.

“Evie,” I’d whispered, pulling her eyes to mine. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Your mother was a beautiful soul who always treated me with kindness. There aren’t many things I wouldn’t do to thank her for that,” she explained. “Besides, regardless of our history, I know you’d do the same for me, Dash.”

“Yeah,” I managed, slipping my hand into hers and squeezing hard. “Thank you.”

It was awkward, but it was real.

Just like that moment in the truck had been tonight.

Our temporary truce only lasted for a few days that time. Within the next forty-eight hours, we were back to our usual insult-driven dialogue and shortly after, she was on her way back to school.

That was the last time I’d seen her and although I’d eternally appreciate the kindness she’d shown me that day, years of distaste wasn’t something you could just wish away.

For some reason, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about how sad she’d looked inside my truck earlier tonight. I couldn’t shake the way her chest felt against mine a second ago. Her hair smelled like flowers and honey, mingling with mine and overtaking my senses, making me want to bathe in it. Her eyes, typically narrowed with venom, were wider, softer as she gazed up at me, holding a vulnerable edge I’d never seen before.

I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but I know I need to shake this shit fast.

I probably just need to get laid.

It’d been about a month and for me, that’s an eternity. I splash my face with cold water, doing my best to ignore the way my cock is throbbing from thoughts of Evie’s scent. I walk back out into the crowded bar and take in my surroundings, the sound of a small group of girls in the corner booth making me smirk.

I’ll stop this shit before it even starts, I think to myself. An hour with any one of them is exactly what I need.

I twist and turn, making my way through the crowd and back up toward the bar where Mason is still sitting, eating up the extra attention his injuries are still earning him. I step between him and Evie, flicking the obnoxious pink umbrella out of my beer and taking a long pull, staring down my nose at her. She’s still glued to her phone so she doesn’t catch me watching her, but I don’t linger like a creep. I have shit to do and the way she flips her hair just cements the idea.

“What’s up?” Mason asks from my right, making me turn to find him eyeing me.

“About to go hit up that table,” I admit, gesturing toward the girls I’d passed on my way out. “I need to make a new friend for an hour or two.”

“Ugh!” Evie groans from beside me. “Men are pigs.”

“Hey!” Mason protests, making her eyes soften as she blows him a kiss.

“Oink, oink, baby,” I reply sarcastically, tipping my beer back once more as I finish it off, savoring in the bitter taste that swirls over my tongue as I set the empty back down on the bar in front on me. “Let’s see which of these lucky ladies are gonna be squealin’ for me later.”

evie

By the time I make it back to my mom’s, I’m exhausted. Between my no-good day, hours in airports and whatever fucked up thing happened with Dash earlier, there are few things I want more than the comfort of my bed.

I step into my old room, my chest clenching when I see little had been changed since my last visit. My bed had been made, the smell of fresh linen telling me my mom had graciously freshened my bedding before I arrived. The thought of that makes me smile, the little reminder that someone in the world loves me and still wants to take care of me soothes my achy heart.

Once I’ve unpacked, I quietly pad my way into the bathroom, careful not to wake my mom. She’d had another long day and stayed up for two hours trying to feed me despite her obvious exhaustion.

I couldn’t be happier to be home, but seeing how little rest she’d been allowing herself while I’d been away had me worried. I was happy there were only a couple more days standing between us and our annual ski trip. Even though it was a work trip for her and Mason, Lord knows she needed the change of scenery. Between the fact that I’d missed it last year and my life is currently a train wreck, I can’t get away fast enough.

I wash up quickly, not taking long enough to fully appreciate the warmth of the water falling over my sore muscles and pull the warm, flannel robe I haven’t let myself wear since I got together with Mike.

Mike.

“Ugh,” I groan, thinking about my recent ex.

I really thought things would be different with him. When we first got together, things had been perfect, as they always are. However, after the first few months, when all the new began to fade away, we still got along perfectly. Well, perfect was a huge over-embellishment, but I didn’t want to kick him in the crotch as much as some of the guys I’d dated.

It hadn’t mattered, though. He still hurt me and the bitch of it all was that I couldn’t understand why.

If I’d been horrible, I’d get it. Truly. And I’ll be the first to admit I’m not perfect, but I was good to him. I never lied, never cheated, never did anything to deserve the hurt he’d caused me. The image of him thrusting into my best friend and roommate, Lindsay, is one I’ll be hard-pressed to forget anytime soon. I’d trusted him, trusted them both and look at where it’d gotten me. Hurt, alone and feeling like a complete idiot.

The worst part in all of this was that despite everything, I miss him.

I miss the way he smells, the way it felt to lean my head against his chest as we vegged on the couch, even though my head never quite fit just right against him.

That should have been my first sign.

Ladies, if you take nothing else from me, let it be this: Never settle for a guy if your head doesn’t settle right against their chest.

I should have known the first time we tried to cuddle and my face ended up in his armpit, he’d ruin my life and fuck my best friend.

Asshole.

I grimace once more, setting my toothbrush back into the small cup that sits beside the sink, patting my face dry and shutting off the light. I make my way to my room, swallowing the string of profanity lodged in my chest, pausing slightly when I think I hear something downstairs before brushing it off and shutting my door behind me.

I spend a few minutes in the small space, reminiscing over my childhood as I take in the small reminders that I’d left behind when I went to college. I’d missed some of them, forgotten others, but took none for granted.

We’d never had much money, but my mom had worked her ass off for everything we did have. Once Mason was old enough, he started working, as did I. I never thought college was even an option, my grades not outstanding enough for a full ride and my artists heart far too flighty for the structure of athletics.

When I was finishing my junior year and they sat me down, telling me they’d pooled their savings to send me to The University of Austin, one of the most prestigious art schools in the state, to say it was unexpected was an understatement.

I tried to fight them on it. Although I’d always loved art, one of the many things I’d inherited from my dad before he passed away when I was seven, I never believed I’d ever have the chance to make painting anything more than a pastime. The last thing I wanted was the guilt of an education that would put even more financial strain on my family, but they insisted I at least apply.

Once I was accepted, there was no turning back.

The guilt some days remained, but overall, it’s the best decision I ever made. I wasn’t good at many things, but I was born to paint. Even I know that.

As I gently ran my fingertips over the painting that still hung above my bed, my first ever and the only project I’d ever completed with my father, I couldn’t stop the smile that slipped over my lips.

One day, I’d be able to pay them back.

One day, I would make them as proud of me as I already was of them.

First though, I need to get the hell over this funk I’m in.

The sound of movement downstairs pulls me from my thoughts, making me turn on my heels and quietly head for my bedroom door.

I’ve been known to be slightly paranoid, so it could be nothing.

That being said paranoia is no reason to neglect the possibility that there’s an intruder hiding in a closet waiting to hack you in your sleep.

See? Paranoid.

I pull the door open silently, the gentle creak of the floorboards shifting with my weight assuring me I’ve just signed my own suicide note.

With some effort, I manage to chill and make it to the stairway, lowering myself just enough to dip my head low and see movement in the kitchen, the rustling of a bag seeping through the darkness.

Oh, my God! Like killing me isn’t enough? The sick bastard is going to eat all my fucking Doritos, too? I think as I shake my head in silent outrage. The nerve of some people…

I’m halfway across the living room, a family portrait from the wall in the hallway my weapon of choice, when my killer speaks, pulling an eye roll from me.

“If you try to smack me over the head with that picture, your mom’s gonna be pissed,” he says, tucking the half-eaten bag of chips back into the cupboard before reaching into the fridge for a soda. “She loves that frame. Talks about how she got it on sale all the time.”

“Dammit, Dash,” I start, his name leaving my lips like a swear word. “It’s like three o’clock in the morning. What the hell are you doing in my mom’s house?”

“Too drunk to drive,” he announces, popping the can open and gulping it down almost completely in one long sip.

“Well, this isn’t a bed and breakfast,” I snip, reaching for a glass and filling it halfway with milk. “You can’t just come and go as you please.”

“I can, actually,” he counters, watching me as I reach for a package of Oreos and put a few on a plate. “I’ve got a deal with your mom. I can crash on the couch when I drink too much as long as I help keep your idiot brother out of jail and take out the trash.”

“Are you kidding me?” I deadpan.

“No way, Jose,” he shakes his head, reaching for one of the Oreos I’d set onto my plate, ignoring my scowl. “Well, I can’t bring any girls over here, but yeah, that’s pretty much it.” He glances down at me, my expression of disgust making him laugh although I don’t know why. “Why the hell do you care anyway? Not like it’s gonna affect you. I’ll be passed out on the couch in twenty minutes and at work before you even flutter those prissy little eyelids of yours open.”

“I don’t care,” I sigh, shaking my head and not interested in dispelling the energy arguing with a moron typically requires. “Do what you want, I’m going to bed.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shitty liar, ya know,” he says, gripping my elbow. “Come here. Gimme another cookie.”

“Get your own, fuckface,” I spit back, slipping from his grasp, making him snicker.

“There she is,” he smirks, taking the cookie.

You know the one I’m talking about. The cookie you saw in the package, waiting for you and you alone to eat it.

One cookie to rule them all.

I scowl at him.

“I was going to eat that.”

“Yeah, well now you’re not,” he shrugs, smirk still in place as he slips the rest of it into his mouth. “Seriously, what’s your fuckin’ problem. You’ve been weird ever since I picked you up. Are you on your period or something?”

“First of all, my menstrual cycle is none of your business,” I inform him as I square my shoulders. “Secondly, I haven’t been weird, but even if I had been weird, how would you know what weird looks like on me anyway?” I challenge. “You may have known me most my life, Dash, but you don’t know me. You have no idea what kind of person I am, how I act when I’m being weird or when I’m on my period. Aside from a few details about my family, you know maybe two things about me, so don’t act like we’re old friends, okay?” I snip, yanking the cookie package from his fingers and setting it on the counter. “And stop eating all my snacks. And stop sneaking into my mom’s house at three o’clock in the morning. I don’t care what agreement you two have, it’s creepy.”

He studies me carefully, seeming to consider my words much more than I thought he might.

Maybe this is a turning point.

Maybe my words will have an impact on him, make him see that I’m not someone to be fucked with.

I’m done being pushed around, not just by men like Dash and Mike, by everyone. If life has taught me anything, it’s that I’m in control of my own destiny and no one will walk all over me.

To him, it might be a cookie, but to me, this fight is for the rights of women everywhere.

Our cookies and our destinies are our own!

We will not be silenced!

This is the first day of the rest of my life and I intend to seize it.

I’m signing my autobiography with Oprah in my mind when his voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Don’t say menstrual to me ever again,” he says with a sigh as he shoves the last cookie on my plate into his mouth and turns toward the couch, leaving me to fume in silence. I just had a breakthrough and that’s what he took from it. Bastard. “Shut off the light, will ya? I’m going to sleep.”