by Scott, S. L.
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles and without needing his words, I feel his love for me.
We spend a good portion of the day driving around and stopping in on a few apartments. His long list of complexes quickly gets narrowed down to three options, all close to me.
After a nap and some fun at my place, we go out for dinner then I offer to introduce him to our local dive, The Sink. It’s already bustling with co-eds when we arrive just after ten. Making our way through the crowded bar. I spot Sarah and Josh hanging out in the corner with a group of other people. We stop to get a beer at the bar before heading over to join them.
After introductions, Josh and Evan hit it off, discussing the current rankings of the Pac-12 Conference, which is a big relief because I’ve seen too many relationships strained because the friends didn’t get along with the significant other. After a few more beers, Josh convinces Evan to throw a game of darts, betting the bar tab on it. I push him forward, but he playfully resists then gives in with a smile. “If you’re sure,” he says with a wink. Why do I get the feeling that he’s a really good dart player, maybe even a hustler? Oh, yes, that’s right, because he’s good at everything and he kind of is a hustler.
Sarah and I plant ourselves on barstools out of the way and watch from a distance. I enjoy watching Evan in this environment, in my environment, a little too much I worry. His mother’s words still haven’t left my thoughts and dampen the fun for me a bit.
“He’s really hot, Mallory. I can definitely see the attraction.” She bites her lip as she checks him out. After looking around the bar, she adds, “I think every girl in here can too.”
“You should see him when he’s coming out of the ocean after surfing—all wet, sun hitting...” I sigh heavily wishing I’d taken more pictures.
Evan comes up and kisses me on the cheek. He slides his nose across my skin until his lips are pressed to my ear. “If I hit a bulls-eye, what do I win?”
His warm breath and amorous tone heats my face and warms my body. I turn until my cheek is against his and whisper, “What do you want to win?”
“Your undying devotion,” he says, standing up.
I pat him on the shoulder and give my version of a romantic interlude. “That’s so Romeo and Juliet of you. I, thee, my Romeo, henceforth cherish you with my undying devotion and ask for nothing, but a mere kiss in return.”
“I’ll give you more than a kiss any day of the week, my Juliet.” He stops to kiss me on the cheek again.
Sarah rolls her eyes, and says, “Sunny was right about you two.”
Josh walks up, taking a drink of his beer, then taps Evan on the chest and says, “Your turn.”
“What’d Sunny say?” Evan asks, waiting with the darts in hand.
We all three wait for Sarah to continue. She looks at me, and says, “She said you guys were different.”
I lean my elbows on the table and ask, “Different how?”
“It’s real, your love for each other. I can see it. She’s right.”
My gaze drops from her and goes immediately to Evan, who’s taking in her words. When he looks at me, he nods his head to the side, calling me to him. I get up and go, sliding my arm around his back, and lean my head on his chest. “They’re both right, you know,” he says, then kisses my temple.
“I know. I believe the same thing.”
He swats me away and says, “Now back up, woman. I’m throwing darts for undying devotion and I’m hoping for some naughtiness when we get back to your place tonight.” He raises the dart into the air, squints one eye, and aims.
Right when he throws, I smack his ass, and the dart goes flying, but because it’s Evan, it still hits the dartboard. “Seriously, Evan, is there anything you’re not good at?”
With a smirk plastered on his face, he says, “I’m not good at losing or sharing.” After that statement, he finishes his off his beer.
“Damn it,” Josh says, staring at the dartboard.
Sarah and I turn, surprised. Laughing, I say, “I think that’s the first curse word I’ve ever heard you say. And if you’re trying to keep up with Evan, you’re gonna have to give a lot of fucks to compete with him.”
“Eh, not competing. Just irritated at my crappy dart throwing tonight,” Josh adds.
Sarah gets up to console him with a hug.
Evan saunters to me, and says, “About that undying devotion, Miss Wray.”
“And here I thought you’d only be focused on the naughty you threw into the bet at the end there.”
“You caught that, huh?”
I lean forward as if I’m going to tell him a secret, but don’t bother whispering. “Hate to break it to you, but I had you all figured out at the airport and I still slept with you. I kind of expect some naughty when it comes to you, Mr. Ashford.”
Grabbing me around the neck in a pretend headlock, he laughs. “This is why we make such a great team. We understand the dynamics of our relationship and have our priorities straight.”
“Always the charmer when it comes to sex,” I add, rolling my eyes, and patting my hair back into place.
“Worked on you.” He smiles, taking my hand and kissing it. “Luckily for me.”
“Why does it feel like you think you’ve won more than a dart game here? Like you charmed the pants right off of me when we’ve had this talk before? I’m the one who chose you.”
He bursts out laughing, but reins it in quickly. With a smile that says he’s lying out his ass, he says, “Yes, dear. You were in total control that day at the airport.”
As much as I want to get all defensive and hide the fact that we started as a one-night stand, it’s our story and look at us now. Anyway, he’s too sexy to get mad at. Instead, I pull him by the hand and say, “I think I’ll have to remind you exactly how that day played out, but later, after I kick your ass in darts.”
Josh steps forward, and says, “I was hoping for a rematch.”
Evan smiles. “I’m happy to take your pride twice, dude, but first my lovely girlfriend has challenged me to a game.”
With a laugh, I offer, “You guys go ahead and play and I’ll get another round of drinks.”
“Thanks, Mal,” Josh says.
Looking at Sarah, I smile. “I’ll be right back.”
“Need help?”
“No, I’ve got it.” I walk to the bar and slip onto a stool. The place is busy and the bartender is running around trying to fill drink orders. Before I have a chance to order, I feel a body press against me from the side. I spin on the barstool and see Will with a smile on his face, staring back at me.
“Mallory, how are you this fine evening?” Adjusting to squeeze in closer, he maneuvers between me and the next seat, which is currently occupied by a large guy. Will doesn’t bother me as much since I had the revelation I did back in the cafeteria that day. It’s not like he wants me back. It’s more that he wants what he can’t have, so he continues to flirt and I continue to blow him off. It’s become a little game we play.
Leaning forward to get the bartender’s attention, he waves his hand which makes his drink spill onto my chest.
The liquid is cold, making me jump. Up. “Shit!” I say, accidentally bumping him and causing him to stumble backward.
That’s when I notice he’s pretty drunk. He rushes me, hands out, all grabby. “Oh hey, Mallory, I’ll get that for you,” he says rubbing his hand across my chest, no napkin in them, just his hand over and over again.
Smacking his him away, I shout, “Get off of—”
Startled by the hit, Will trips on the leg of a stool, losing his balance, and begins to fall backwards. But as he falls, he grapples for anything to keep him upright. In haste, he grabs me and I fall with him.
My head scrapes across the edge of a nearby table before I land directly on top of him with a thud.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “I knew you wanted me, Mal, but all you had to do was ask.” He laughs, a bit drunk-dazed, a lot amused as he pulls me closer.
“Get off me, you asshat,” I say, angry. Pressing against his chest, I push hard to get him off. “You were such a mistake. There’s no chance in Hell I’ll make it again.”
In an instant, he’s gone when Evan yanks Will off of me, holding him high enough that his feet barely touch the ground. “What the fuck are you doing?”
With his hands up in surrender, Will stammers, “I, er, uh—”
“If you ever come near her again, I’ll make you regret the day you laid eyes on her. Do you understand me?”
Obviously losing his sensibilities, he replies, “I understand that I fucked your girlfriend and she came back begging for more.” Will laughs.
I cringe as I get up. Standing there in shock as I listen to Will, clearly unaware of who he’s taking on.
Evan’s glare is unwavering, not showing anything other than hatred toward Will. His biceps are strong and defined as he holds him up. When he releases him, he shoves him in the chest and says, “You apologize to her or you’re gonna be the one begging, but for mercy.”
“Fuck you,” Will spews, his temper flaring.
“Fuck me?” Evan laughs. He grabs his arm, turning him toward the door, and pushes him. “Fuck you, dude.”
Sarah’s suddenly by my side, her eyes searching mine. “Are you alright?”
Frantic, I say, “We can’t let them fight. I don’t want Evan fighting.”
From behind, I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Are you hurt, Mallory?” Ryan’s there, worried and cups my cheek just as Evan and Will disappear outside.
My head is pounding and I’m uncomfortable by the intimacy of the touch, so I turn away and reply, “I’m fine—”
“You hit your head and there’s blood. I can clean it and make sure you don’t need stitches.” He starts to pull me by the hand, insistent with his grip, and leads me toward the bathroom.
I pull my hand free and stop just as Evan appears, and says, “I’ll take it from here.” Taking my hand in his, he bends his elbow, which tugs me closer, and holds my hand against his chest, his eyes never leaving Ryan’s.
Evan doesn’t look like he’s been in a fight to my relief. I follow his gaze back to Ryan, who remains close—protective in his stance. I’m not sure if he’s on guard for himself or me though, which makes me nervous.
Stepping forward, my body is the only thing separating the two ego-puffed chests.
“Sure, man,” Ryan says, “just making sure she gets taken care of properly.”
A heavy sigh escapes me, knowing Ryan’s words are meant to incite, insinuating everything, and that they will set Evan off again. There’s no fear in Ryan’s eyes, though I think there should be. He confidently stakes his claim to the spot where he stands… maybe even of me. Fuck!
When I look from Ryan back to Evan, I freeze. I’ve only seen Evan truly mad once before. It was the night he fought with Noah, the night we both fought with Noah at the luau, but his eyes were different. Evan’s eyes back then showed hate, but also hurt, sadness, and confusion mixed in. The look in Evan’s eyes right now sends a shiver down my spine while breaking my heart simultaneously. Taking a step back closer to Evan, I squeeze his hand and try to pull him away from this tense situation, but he doesn’t budge. “Evan? C’mon. Let’s go,” I whisper.
Surprising me, he looks down. His face softens when his eyes look into mine. When he turns back to Ryan, his eyes harden with a narrowed glare.
“You say you’re her friend,” Evan says, his voice calm—maybe too calm. “But it seems to me that you…” he pulls me closer, against his side and wraps his arm around me, “…want more from her.”
Ryan is quick, dangerously so, stupid for fighting for something he’ll never have. “Are you afraid of the competition?”
The gauntlet has been thrown down, and knowing Evan can’t resist a challenge, I instantly pipe up hoping to put an end to this ridiculous fight. “Ryan, there is no competition and there never will be. I’ve told you repeatedly how I feel about Evan. So despite what you seem to think, I’m with Evan because I want to be, because I love him.”
Evan kisses the side of my head then straightens back up, and says, “I think you’ve gotten your answer. If you really care about her, you’ll respect her decision.”
Ryan glances between the two of us several times before he shifts, looking down at his feet. “I am her friend.” His gaze returns to me, and he says, “I’ll see you around, Mallory.”
The pain I’ve caused him is written on his face, which makes me feel awful. I try to step forward, but Evan holds me firmly in place. Glancing at Evan, I see the plea in his eyes to stay. I do, but I say, “I’m sorry, Ryan,” while he’s still within earshot.
He stops, looking over his shoulder, a small smile crossing his face when his eyes connect with mine. “I understand.” He turns and leaves the bar.
“Go to the bathroom and I’ll check out that cut,” Evan says, breathing into my hair while directing me toward the small hall where the restrooms are located. Inside, I lean forward over the sink and look at the scrape in the mirror. Evan gets a paper towel and wets it then dabs my skin. He hands me the towels, but continues rubbing his finger close to the cut. He rests against the counter, not bothered at all that he’s in the women’s restroom. “That’s the same place you hurt your head in Oahu. Are you okay?” His concern is evident. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.”
“I’ll be fine.” My heart hurts just looking at him. He shouldn’t be dealing with my past and here it is hitting him square in the face with insults everywhere he turns.
There’s no humor in his tone when he asks, “Is your life always this exciting?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I reply, taking a long look at him. “You’re upset. You have every right to be. I’m sorry.” The atmosphere feels thick with tension, an argument of what we both want to say brewing beneath the surface.
“I don’t want you to apologize. I want to understand what’s going on with those assholes out there. Are you close to them?”
“No, not like you’re thinking. I’m working on a project for one of my classes with them. Sarah does too. I’ve hung out with Ryan but you knew every time. He knows we’re together.”
There’s silence as he watches me continue to pat the small cut, but then he says, “Guys only wanna fuck you. If Noah didn’t prove that point back in Hawaii, tonight should.”
The door opens and a girl walks in, but when we turn to look at her, she backs out and says, “I’ll use the men’s.”
The interruption gives a much needed reprieve from the tension.
I try to temper the fight I feel looming between us. “Evan, because a guy flirts with me doesn’t mean I’ll fall for it. You don’t have to fight the world to protect me.”
“That asshole had his hands all over you and you what? Expect me to let him get away with it? Did you hear the shit he was saying?”
When I reach over and touch his chest, his body is hard, heavy with the burdens of our long-distance relationship before he slips away from me. “You can’t be friends with every guy you meet, Mallory. You think you’re being nice, but it’s gonna fuck us up.” Pacing, his agitation is obvious in his every movement.
My hands grip the counter behind my back as I lean against it watching him. “Are you telling me I can’t be friends with men?”
“No.” He stops in front of me. “I’m not threatening you. You can be friends with who you choose to be, but the reality is this whole night could’ve been avoided if your friends respected your boundaries. But they don’t. They’re disrespecting you, me, and our relationship.”
Tamping down the emotions I have built up from the earlier phone call w
ith his mother, I say, “They know where I stand. They’ve just chosen to ignore the facts.”
He stops with space between us, leaning his back against the wall. “I’ll be honest. Seeing these guys hanging around you is fucking with my head. You say they know where you stand, but I need to know. I need to know when I’m in New York and you’re here, where do you stand then?”
I move in front of him, pressing my hips against his. Taking his face between my hands, I make him look me in the eyes. “I’m right here. I’m right here standing by you, only you. Always.” I kiss him—slow and light, cautiously, as I try to calm him.
“I miss you, baby.”
“I miss you like crazy,” I say, and hug him.
His heart thunders in his chest, beating against mine as his arms wrap around me.
When he leans back, a small smile tugs at the sides of his mouth when he says, “This doesn’t change the fact that your Ex is a real asshole.”
I laugh, loving the humor he can find in the moment. “You’re right, but he always was and probably always will be. You’re not though, so I don’t want you getting upset over jerks like him. Anyway, not every guy wants to sleep with me. Case in point, the manager of the third property we looked at today. He didn’t even notice me.”
Amused, he laughs. “Because he was gay and you know it.”
“That would explain why he lingered on your every word. But what you’re really saying is that I can be friends with certain guys because they don’t want to sleep with me, but not all guys because they do want to sleep with me. This is kind of ridiculous, you know.”
“I never said they wanted to sleep.” He pulls me closer and holds me. “Come here.” He kisses me again—hard this time with no reluctance and all the passion we had in Hawaii is back, making me whole.
Our lips part and I watch him as his eyes slowly open, and he says, “I don’t want to fight with you, but this…” He rubs his hands over my hips. “…Is all mine. This…” Continuing, his fingers slide across my mouth. “…Is mine. And this…” He strokes between my legs, firing every nerve into a frenzy of sexual hypertension. “…Will never be touched by anyone other than me again. I told you, I’m not good at losing or sharing. You remember that when I’m back in New York.”
