Evangeline

Is it totally lame of me to admit that I spent the afternoon getting ready for my date? Because I did. I so did. Now that I know I’m going to lose my virginity tonight, I’m determined to make it as perfect as possible.

I shave. Twice. I put on thick black eyeliner, then wash it off and start again with soft silver shadow. I root around my closet in indecision, and eventually put on a strapless maxi and sandals. I braid my hair and pin it around my head, then unfurl the whole thing and let my dark locks fan over my shoulders.

I’m nervous in the best sort of way.

I google Cash Flow. I click a link, then two. Then three. I feel wrong for doing this, but learn that he’s from a neighborhood filled with crime and went to prison for beating a man, and he started posting his rap-offs on YouTube a year ago.

His music is insane. Insanely beautiful. I was expecting something grim, or a song about bitches and hos, but Cash isn’t that kind of rapper.

He’s a genius.

I understand why my dad signed him. I’d sign him. I watch every clip, mesmerized, because with a mic in his hand he’s powerful. He’s electric.

He’s fucking hot as hell.

He has hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers. He tweets every hour.

But I swear, not one of them is his own words.

I’ve heard him speak, heard him whisper in my ear—and none of his inflections would lead me to believe that he could translate his heart and soul into one hundred and forty characters.

Also, he went to prison for beating a man.

Should that scare me?

I shut my computer.

I take off my panties, because, after all, I promised Cassius I wouldn’t wear any and I can make good on my promise. Then I discard my maxi dress, tie my hair in a bun, and put on a fitted dress and stilettos. I haven’t worn heels in two years. They’re out of style, but I need tight clothes and sleek shoes, because I want to appear more than I am. I want to look like the sort of woman Cash Flow would sleep with, because all I want right now is to shed my skin and become something braver than I was when I woke up this morning begging my dad for a job.

I can reclaim what I have forfeited.

And I will.

He’s here. I see an Uber drop him off. I told him I would drive, but we both know he’s going to take the wheel tonight.

I will give him complete control.

I grab my purse, lock the guest house, and meet him out front.

“Hey,” I tell him. “You came back.”

He looks me over, closely. Maybe too closely. Close enough that I’m second-guessing the shoes, the dress, the ruby-red lips.

“You look different,” he says, cocking his head to the side.

Okay, not exactly Romeo with his entrance, but I’ll take it. He’s still here. I’m no fool; if I know how much he’s not my type, I can tell that I’m not his either.

“You don’t like my outfit?” I ask, looking down, insecure in ways I hate. I don’t want to be that girl. Not tonight. Not anymore.

“Just looks more….”

“I was going for celebratory.”

“It looks very celebratory.”

“You’re a bad liar, Cassius.”

“I didn’t beg you for heels and tight skirts, is all.” He shrugs. “But like we discussed before, this is why we’re on a first date, to get to know one another. Maybe I read you all wrong. Maybe your anxiety attack hid parts of you that I’ll see now.”

“It wasn’t a panic attack. You said so yourself. It was a meltdown.”

Our eyes lock. I feel seen. I feel stupid in this dress that’s not me; I don’t even know why I own it. The tags were still attached when I found it in my closet.

He may have gone to prison, but that isn’t why my heart is pounding, why my breath is hot, or why my pussy seems to clench in desire.

I don’t need a dress to make me feel more than. Standing beside Cassius makes me feel like enough.

“I’m gonna change. Give me a sec.”

* * *

When I come back out I’m in the flowing maxi dress and the sandals. My hair is loose on my shoulders. I’m myself.

And Cassius gives me a full-on grin, the dimpled one that makes me suck in air, fast, because he seriously leaves me breathless.

“You look divine, Evangeline.”

I feel my cheeks redden, but I don’t look away. I only have eyes for him.

“You look pretty good yourself.” And he does. He’s in dark jeans and a collared shirt, buttoned all the way up. His medallion is looped around his neck and he’s got rings on his fingers. His hair is slicked back. His pale eyes are like the sea: blue speckled with green, washing away any of my worries about his hardened past.

“Wanna drive?” I ask, holding up my keys.

He shakes his head. “I can’t drive.”

When my eyes ask the question, he lets out a breath I didn’t know he was holding.

“Lost my license.”

“They can send you replacement, dork,” I tell him, tossing him the keys.

When he tosses the keys back, I get it.

“It was revoked.” His jaw tenses. “You sure you wanna go out with me? I’m guessing you Googled me or some shit.”

“Did you Google me?”

His eyes narrow. “Should I have?”

“No,” I tell him, walking to the driver’s seat. If he knew who my dad is, he might back away from me.

I can’t have him do that. Not before tonight ends.

I want tonight. I need tonight. It feels like the precipice for the rest of my life.

“Hop in, Cash Flow, and let me show you my part of LA.”

“My part, too,” he says as he sits beside me in my Mini.

We cruise down the freeway toward a simple restaurant on the water’s edge in Malibu. Not too swanky, not too chill—perfect for a first date. At least, I always thought that when I was a teenager and living here, wishing some guy would take me on a first date.

Strike that. Wishing a guy who wasn’t someone whose father worked with my father would take me on a date. Those were the only dates I ever had.

“You’re relocating to Malibu?” I ask.

“Yeah, just decided on my drive over. After the tour with Elle, I need to start somewhere new. The cab driver convinced me this is where I should buy a house. I’ve lived in LA my whole life, but hardly ever come to the ocean. That’s fucked up.”

“You’re letting your Uber driver decide your destiny?” I give him a sidelong glance, swallowing hard for reasons I don’t understand.

He laces my fingers through his and my body tenses and melts at the same time. He’s a sensation overload. I don’t let go.

“You believe in destiny?” he asks.

I shrug. “A little heavy for a first date, isn’t it?”

“Evangeline, I hate to break it to you, but Cash Flow is fucking deep.”

I laugh. “Don’t dismiss yourself. You’re really talented.”

“Says the girl from Julliard.”

“You are talented,” I tell him as I park at the restaurant. “I watched your YouTube videos, and the truth is, you’re amazing. You’re so—”

“Full of hot air? Fake? A product? A show?”

“I was going to say sincere.”

He shakes his head, jumping out of the car, and opening my door. “I am many things on stage, but I don’t think I would have said sincere. I’d describe myself as desperate.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask as he places his hand on the small of my back, leads me inside.

“Hope and fear are both borne from desperation.”

“Who said that?” I ask.

He smiles softly. “Me.”

* * *

It only takes one foot in the restaurant before I know I picked all wrong. As a seventeen-year-old girl I thought this place was romantic, but now I see it’s all fake lighting and bland food, and it’s totally empty.

I’m not even hungry.

“Wanna walk on the beach?” I ask, turning to Cassius, who, in his smooth clothes, is as out of place here as I am.

“I’m game for anything.”

“It’s only ten after five. This place is dead. That’s on you,” I tell him, smiling, grabbing his hand and pulling him back outside.

He leans down, his soft lips against my ear. “I said five because you made plans for later.”

“So you didn’t forget a condom, that’s what you’re saying?” I ask, shocked at my unbridled flirtation. This is not the regular Evangeline. Regular Evangeline is so obedient.

So boring.

“I did not forget a condom.”

“Good.” I smile. “Let’s walk to the pier and get ice cream.”

“You’re really precious, Evie, you know that?”

“Is being precious a good thing?

“It’s a very good thing.”

Cassius grabs my hand, and we start walking.