#Awestruck (A #Lovestruck Novel)

by Sariah Wilson

  Whitley led us into a formal living room and asked if we wanted anything to eat or drink. We both said we were fine and sat down.

  To keep up the pretense, I asked about her time with the Lumberjills. Her favorite game, best memory, that kind of thing. She was fun and animated. I could begrudgingly see why Evan might have liked her.

  Then I moved in for the kill. “And did you quit the team, or were you let go?”

  “Oh, they kicked me off,” she said with a laugh. “And they said it was because of weight gain, but it was because I’d been dating Evan Dawson. The quarterback?”

  I’m familiar with him, thanks. “Right. I’d heard something about that.”

  “He was a real gentleman. Very kind and thoughtful.”

  Whitley didn’t say anything about me being engaged to Evan. Either she didn’t recognize me, or she didn’t keep up on sports news. I decided to play dumb.

  “A gentleman?” I repeated. Here was the opening I needed. “Okay, just between us girls, you have to tell us. Did you really never sleep together?”

  “We did not.”

  “Really?” This was from Nia.

  “I know. Trust me, I get it. He’s beyond gorgeous. And it’s not like he was overly religious or something. Just committed to his choice. It didn’t happen, and then things ended.”

  “Why didn’t it work out?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound overeager.

  “He never really opened up to me. We had fun, but I never felt like I knew the real Evan Dawson. There was no . . . I don’t know, intimacy between us. Since then I’ve come to realize that a lot of people mistake physical intimacy for the real thing, but that emotional connection you make, when it’s like his soul is communicating with yours, that’s what makes a relationship work. It’s what I have with my husband, Gabriel. If Evan and I had slept together, it would have just delayed the inevitable. Masked over our other problems, you know?”

  “Did you ever think he might be gay? Or asexual?” Nia asked, and I was grateful for it because that angle had completely slipped my mind.

  “You’d have to ask him, but I never thought he was secretly gay. And he definitely didn’t seem asexual to me. But obviously I can’t know for sure. You’d have to ask him.”

  It suddenly became desperately important to me to know if Evan had liked her for herself or if he’d used her the way he was using me. “Was there a possibility that he dated you to make himself look good? Maybe to impress Chester Walton for contract negotiations?”

  She pursed her lips. “No, I never felt that way. I genuinely liked him, and he liked me.”

  Nia asked Whitley about a mutual acquaintance, and while they chatted, I processed the information I’d just been given. I had honestly hoped that this conversation would go in a completely different direction. That Whitley would tell us that of course they’d slept together and that Evan was a huge lying liar who constantly lied out of his lying mouth, even if I logically knew nothing would be that easy. What if she had ulterior motives? Maybe she didn’t want her husband to know? Because any man would question himself if that’s who he had to compare himself to.

  You’re reaching.

  I was taking things to really far-out conclusions. I had thought I’d be more open-minded than I was currently being. Even if Whitley was covering for Evan, it didn’t matter. This ruled her out as someone who would go on our show and say she’d hooked up with him.

  The conversation lasted for another fifteen minutes or so, until Whitley’s little boy started to cry upstairs. “I need to feed and change him.” She stood and walked us to the front door. “Nia, it was fantastic to see you again, and, Ashton, so nice to meet you.”

  We thanked her, said our goodbyes, and walked back to our cars.

  “Do you know how jealous you looked in there?” Nia asked.

  “Take it back,” I told her. I wasn’t jealous. At all. Even a little. I was totally fine. And I had not been comparing my every flaw against Whitley’s every perfection the entire conversation.

  “I’m sorry for saying you’re jealous just because you are.” Nia paused and winced, holding on to her stomach.

  “Are you sick?” I asked.

  “Nope. Just a little pregnant.”

  “Nia!” I hugged her tightly. I could see how happy she was, and I was thrilled for her. “That is so fantastic!”

  “Thanks. We’ve been trying for a really long time, and we haven’t really told people yet because we don’t want to jinx it.”

  She got teary-eyed, and I decided to cheer her up. “Better you than me. Whenever I see a cute baby, I always think, ‘Man, I really love sleeping through the night.’”

  It worked, and Nia laughed, clearing up her hormonal tears. It had been my best tactic with Aubrey during her pregnancies, too.

  Speaking of the task-driving devil, I had a text on my phone from my sister.

  I didn’t have many more phone calls to make, and I replied that I’d be by that night. “My sister needs me,” I explained to Nia. “I need to take off. But seriously, congratulations. That is really, really exciting.”

  We hugged and then each drove off in our cars. When I came to my first stoplight, I found myself wondering what it would be like to be pregnant. To have a baby of my own.

  Why was I picturing that baby with Evan’s blue eyes?

  While I was working at Aubrey’s, Evan texted me.

  I was, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Strangely enough, so was I.

  The next day I had to be at the children’s hospital at nine o’clock in order to “escort” Evan. Which I didn’t understand. I was pretty sure he could figure out the layout of a hospital map just as easily as I could.

  When I got out of my car in the hospital parking lot, I realized I had severely underestimated how big of a deal this was. As a family, we typically only participated in the administrative side of the Jumping Jacks charity. There was a total media circus happening in the front of the hospital. There were news vans from every station, including one from ISEN, lining the streets. Tons of people, along with security to keep the fans away from the Jacks. Evan was already there, signing autographs and taking selfies with everyone who asked.

  A small stage had been set up, along with a podium and microphone. Someone from the Jumping Jacks organization was speaking, and I made my way through the crowd, trying to get close. Tinsley saw me and waved me over, telling the guard to let me pass by.

  I didn’t want to interrupt Evan, so I hung back.

  And may or may not have admired the view.

  The speaker said, “You’ve heard more than enough from me. Let’s get Evan ‘Awesome’ Dawson up here to answer some of your questions. Evan?”

  Evan handed the Sharpie pen he’d been using to one of the security guards and then paused when he saw me. I waved, and he held out his hand. Without thinking I walked over and joined our fingers together. My pulse skittered and jumped when our skin touched.

  He leaned in and said in my ear, “This is one of those give-them-what-they-want-so-they-leave-us-alone situations.”

  I nodded and followed him up to the stage. The cameras and lights were overwhelming. Evan tucked me against him, holding on tight. The whole right side of my body felt like it was on fire, pulsing in time to my quick heartbeat. Like I was going to be the lead story on the six o’clock news because of the impending spontaneous combustion.

  “How is everyone?” Evan asked into the microphone. “I hear you have some questions for me.”

  The media in front of us erupted, and Evan had to point to specific reporters so they’d speak one at a time.

  “How did you and your fiancée meet?”

  “We were friends in high school, and we reconnected at a party a few months ago.” The lie fell easily out of his mouth, which was more than a little disconcerting.

  “How did you know she was the one?”

  Evan turned to look at me and smiled. “It’s hard to explain. At first I didn’t kno
w, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And the more time we spent together, the more I realized that there was nobody else on earth I wanted to hang out with more than this woman. That I was falling in love with her. In love with who she was and who she is now. She’s amazing. Smart, funny, beautiful, talented, and caring.”

  My heart beat so hard there was a rushing sound in my ears. Lies, right? Total lies? I knew they were lies, but he sounded so honest when he said them. How was I ever supposed to trust anything he ever said to me or about me?

  “And she deflates my ego every chance she gets,” Evan added, leading to chuckles and some laughter from the group.

  “Let’s see the ring!”

  I held up my left hand, close to my face. Was I supposed to say something?

  All thoughts of how I should be performing in this moment went out the window with the next question.

  “Evan! Are you still waiting for marriage?”

  “Of course,” Evan answered immediately, and it shushed the entire press corps, which made him laugh. “You guys weren’t expecting that answer, were you? I made a promise to someone important a long time ago, and I aim to keep that promise.”

  “Do you feel like you struggle with your choice at all? Especially now that you’re engaged?”

  Evan’s blue eyes burned into mine. “Definitely.”

  My knees went hollow at his expression and his low, rough voice, and I was very glad he was holding on to me so that I didn’t collapse.

  “How about a kiss for the camera?” A few other reporters cheered the request.

  My mouth went completely dry, my heart pounding in my throat.

  Evan turned so we faced each other. He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

  Yes, yes, a thousand times YES! “You probably should. We have to sell it, right?” Did I sound nonchalant? I desperately wanted to sound nonchalant.

  He put both of his hands around my waist, pulling me in close, holding me in place as if he was afraid I’d run off. “You won’t think less of me?”

  “That would be impossible.”

  He laughed, and I could still feel the laugh on his lips as they pressed against mine. Stars exploded behind my eyelids at his first sweet, tentative touch. This was not how my thirteen-year-old self had pictured my first kiss with Evan. That had involved riding on a unicorn under a rainbow while being serenaded by a boy band.

  He pulled back slightly, as if he’d intended to only give me a quick peck, but I could see in his smoldering eyes that something had changed his mind. I didn’t know whether it was the way my body shuddered against him, or the whimpering sound I made, or just the feel of the fiery chemistry that exploded between us in that one brief moment, but our kiss wasn’t over yet.

  Evan shifted his arms, wrapping them around me completely, as if he meant to shield me from everything surrounding us. My arms wound around his neck, needing his strength to stay vertical. My heart sputtered to a stop and then quickly restarted as his lips came back down on mine.

  And this, a real kiss from Evan Dawson, was so much better than anything I’d envisioned when I was thirteen. It still felt like a combination of unicorns, rainbows, and boy bands but in a completely mature and awesome way.

  There was some hesitancy at first, like he was worried I might stop him. How could I when all the tension fled my muscles, turning me pliant and more than willing? And even when he grew more confident, given my enthusiastic response, he kept the kiss sweet. Tender. Gentle.

  And altogether too short.

  Heat flooded through me. It felt like slipping into a deliciously hot bath at the end of a long hard day—my bones melted, and my entire being sighed as the warmth of his kiss infused every cell of my body with longing for more. A lot more.

  He ended the kiss, and I had to fight not to whimper in protest. My lips were still parted, my eyes slightly out of focus. It took me a second to get back to reality. He leaned forward and planted a teasing kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’ve wanted to do that since the night of Tinsley and Jamie’s party.”

  What? Kiss my nose? Or was he referring to the much better kissing that had just taken place?

  The press cheered for us, causing a blush so deep that I could literally feel my cheeks burning. At first the sound startled me, as Evan had made the outside world disappear in those brief moments. I had forgotten there was a crowd of people recording and photographing us. Their applause made me feel a little like a trained seal, performing just for the prize at the end.

  Though if the prize was more kisses from Evan, I might consider it.

  He took me by the hand and gently pointed me toward the exit. I walked away while Evan said into the microphone, “As you can see, I’m a very lucky man.”

  I only barely registered the laughter behind me. Nia met me as I went offstage, and she wore a superior-looking smile.

  “That was such a great kiss. That boy has a huge grin on his face.”

  “I’m glad two-thirds of us enjoyed it,” I muttered, still unable to process all the overwhelming sensory input that had just happened.

  “You are a liar. You enjoyed every second of that.”

  “Okay. I did. A little.” A crap ton, actually.

  And despite the fact that I still hadn’t figured out what Evan and I actually were to each other, whether I could trust him and believe in him, I knew one thing.

  Despite my blustery objections, I definitely wanted to kiss him again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  By the time Evan had finished with the press, I had regained control of my mind and body. Mostly. Things got a little hazy when he first approached me, but I redirected my thoughts to the business at hand—visiting sick children.

  I spent hours watching him with those kids. All those little bald heads just about broke my heart. Evan paid special attention to each one, even the kids who had no idea who he was. I would hand him a gift bag for each child, and he not only autographed each piece of Jacks swag but also made sure to find out the kid’s name to personalize it.

  Several times throughout the day I caught him smiling at me, like this was something we were sharing together. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. Again, I found myself wanting to believe in this version of Evan. Given the stats on NFL players, some of the men in this room were guilty of domestic violence. Of anger management issues. Or were alcoholics. Just because they put on a great face in public didn’t mean they didn’t have major issues in their personal lives.

  I thought of Aubrey’s words—that no one could keep an act up for that long. Was that true?

  Evan tried to include me in what he was doing. I attempted to tell him that nobody here wanted to meet me, but he kept introducing me. That burning, sinking guilty feeling returned each time he used the word fiancée.

  We shook a lot of hands and gave a lot of hugs. I knew the board would be pleased with how much attention and media coverage the charity received today. It would enable them to solicit more funds and help more kids.

  When we were finished, Evan turned to me and said, “Dinner? My treat.”

  I opened my mouth, and no words came out. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I needed a break from Evan. How was I supposed to judge my perceptions and feelings when he seemed to always be around, scrambling everything up?

  My nonresponse earned me a small frown, which quickly disappeared. “Or I can just see you for Thanksgiving at your parents’ house. You look like you need some ‘me’ time.”

  “Yes,” I said gratefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Eleven o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He looked at me like he wanted to say something more but held it back. I thought he might kiss me goodbye. Or hug me. But instead, he just raised one hand and walked back toward the hospital.

  I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

  As I made my way to the parking lot, I wondered: Was my problem that he was always around, or did it just seem
that way because I couldn’t stop thinking about him?

  On Wednesday morning I got up early and laid my clothes and shoes for Thanksgiving out on my bed. My mom liked us to dress up.

  My plan was to drive over to a nearby high school track and do a few miles. Maybe running would give me some clarity for my current situation.

  Part of the problem was that although Evan talked a good game about us and his supposed feelings for me, other than that one night at dinner, he hadn’t really let me know what he wanted out of this . . . whatever it was. Only a friendship? Just because he’d said I was hot didn’t mean he wanted to be serious with me. Did he want something more? And had that all changed when we’d been forced into this situation?

  Maybe I should ask him today. Find a clever way to work it into the conversation so that it would seem like no big deal, and I didn’t care one way or the other if he was interested.

  But if he was . . . was I? Did I want to date him? Being combustibly attracted to him wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship.

  In the middle of my running and pondering, my phone beeped with a text. It was from Brenda. I came to a stop to read it.

  I glanced at my phone’s clock. I didn’t have enough time to go home and shower and get changed. Every minute I delayed would be a minute that Brenda would get madder. I thought about reminding her that I had the day off, but lots of people would be working at ISEN all throughout the holidays, given the high number of sporting events that needed to be covered.

  If she was demanding that I come in, she was going to have to take me as I was. Thankfully I wasn’t too gross because I hadn’t been trying to break a sweat. Just to clear my head.

  On my way over I decided it was a good thing Brenda had called me in. I was having so many doubts about this whole situation that I was considering putting a stop to it all. There had to be a way to back out gracefully and still be able to get a full-time job with the station come January.

  When I got up to the intern floor, it was dark. I went into Brenda’s office, and she had her lights off as well. She was facing away from her desk, toward one of the TV screens in her office.