Ever (The Ever Trilogy)

by Jessa Russo

  I glanced at the clock. Shoot! It’s already ten! I had a date with Toby at eleven. That left me with only one hour, which normally wouldn’t be a problem, but I was so excited, I knew it was going to be another What’s in Ever’s Closet? Fashion Show kind of day. I decided to call Jessie to ask her to come over and help me find something to wear. Truth be told, her complete obsession with fashion could occasionally prove helpful.

  As I dialed her cell phone, I started to pull possible outfit choices from my closet and lay them on my bed. I heard her phone ringing down the hall—if it could be called ringing. It wasn’t actually a ring though. As usual, it was one of those musical ringtones that she was constantly changing to suit her mood—which was getting louder as it got closer to the other side of my door. This week the song was something about being sexy. It figured. She answered right outside my door.

  “Finally! Geez, Ev. I thought you were going to sleep all day!”

  “Jess? How long have you been here?”

  “Oh, you know, Susan woke up and started her vomiting session around six this morning, so when I couldn’t fall back asleep out of pure annoyance, I came over here instead.” Jessie always tried to sound flippant about her mom’s drinking binges, but I knew her well enough to know that she was here 24/7 because of how hard it was on her. Or because her mom had some random, equally drunk, guy at home. “I mean, I knew at least your mom would be awake, even if you weren’t, but I don’t think she’s here. But judging by the way your kitchen smells right now, she made the most sinful banana bread I’ve ever imagined—”

  “Wait, Jess? You’ve been here since six?”

  “Of course not, Silly! First, I showered. Then, I got ready. Then, I went to Starbucks. Then, I met the most amazing guy waiting in line. Then, we exchanged numbers. Then, I came here.”

  I tried to calculate how long each of those things probably took, and I realized she hadn’t been at my house all that long.

  “So, you’ve been here, since … .”

  “Just walked in the door,” she said with a giggle. “And um, Ev? Why are we still talking on the phone? I’m coming in. I hope you’re decent!”

  The door opened just a second later, and Jessie’s playful smile was almost instantly replaced with a look of utter horror as she noticed the bikini and cover-up from yesterday.

  “Um, eew. So much for decency. Please tell me you aren’t still in yesterday’s bikini, Ever Van Ruysdael.” She handed me a coffee, and I took a long drink before responding.

  “I know, I know, I’m about to take a shower. I fell asleep in this last night.” Jessie had probably already gone through three or four outfit changes since she’d left my house yesterday afternoon.

  “Speaking of last night, what’s up with you and Frankie? I mean, obviously I know what’s up on your end, but he’s acting pretty strange lately. And the way he was looking at you … care to tell me what that’s all about?”

  As she waited for my response—which would be a very long wait since I had no idea what to say—she looked around my room, surveying the mess I had already made of my clothes. I could practically see the light bulb flash on above her head when she put two and two together and realized I was getting ready to go somewhere. Luckily, that realization saved me from trying to put the weirdness between Frankie and me into words—I didn’t actually have any words for it.

  Also, knowing me as well as she did, she knew it wasn’t just anywhere I was going. Not with such a large mess showing my indecision in choosing an outfit, and the flush of red on my cheeks when she looked at me with a question in her eyes.

  “Oh my gosh, Ever! You have a date! Spill! Is it with Toby? Oh, of course it is, I mean, what am I saying, obviously it couldn’t be with Frank—” Jessie paused when her eyes swept across the clothes on the bed. “—oh, heck no. Absolutely not. Please tell me you aren’t planning on wearing that?”

  She pointed at the outfit I’d settled on, making a disgusted face at my leggings and burn-out tank top and tossing them into my closet. After setting her purse and Starbucks cup on my desk, she turned back to the closet and rolled up the sleeves of her sweater, ready to get to work.

  “Seriously, Ever, people are going to start thinking you’re depressed if you don’t start adding some color to your wardrobe. Never mind. It’s clear I’m seriously needed here. Go shower, and I’ll see what I can come up with”—she glanced doubtfully at my closet—”though I wish I would have known and brought reinforcements from my own wardrobe.” She glanced down at her pink, satin mini-skirt and back to me with her eyebrows raised expectantly.

  “Uh-uh. Not gonna happen, Jess.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  I started to close the bathroom door behind me when Jessie yelled after me, “Wait! How much time do we have?”

  A quick glance at the clock told me we had less than an hour. Forty-seven minutes to be exact.

  Deciphering the look on my face, she knew the answer. “Never mind. I don’t even want to know. Just hurry up!”

  When I got out of the shower just a few minutes later, Jessie had returned all my clothes to my closet, and it looked as though she’d completely rearranged it by clothing types. First tanks, then short sleeves, then long sleeves, and so on. I shook my head. She responded with a shrug.

  ”Since I have no choice other than black, black, or black—”

  “Or gray,” I said, pestering her.

  She ignored me as if I hadn’t even spoken the words out loud.

  “—I did the best I could and came up with this.” She waved her hands out over the outfit on my bed like Vanna White would showcase a prize on Wheel of Fortune.

  A black tube top—price tag still intact—was paired with my stonewashed skinny jeans, a gray-cropped sweater, and my beat up old boots. I was nothing short of surprised to see them there since it was no secret how Jessie felt about them.

  “My boots?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. But he seems to have the same horrible taste in fashion that you do,” she said with a wink, “So, I figured you might as well be comfortable. I’m sure he’ll like the boots, and I skipped the leggings for obvious reasons.”

  Obvious to whom? I wondered. Not at all obvious to me, but I didn’t argue. Why risk making her change her mind and forcing me wear something horrible, like … high heels? Ugh. No thanks.

  “And you know what those jeans do to your J-Lo booty, Ev. He’ll be putty in your hands by the time I’m done with you.”

  Jessie glanced longingly at her own butt in the mirror and sighed. I’ve always been self-conscious of my fuller figure, and she’s always been envious. I guess the old saying is true; people really do believe the grass must be greener on the other side. But seriously, what I wouldn’t do for smaller boobs and a much smaller butt.

  I dressed as quickly as I could, tucking the sweater into my purse since it was too warm to need it just yet. Jess loosely braided my wet hair, and demanded that I put on more make-up than usual. I gave in to appease her since she’d given in and was letting me wear my boots. Fair is fair.

  Jessie called the guy she’d just met at Starbucks and planned a little date of her own. I always thought you were supposed to wait awhile before calling a guy, but normal dating rules never seemed to apply to Jessie, and we knew my dating knowledge was limited at best. Listening to her on the phone with him, I wondered if I would ever come across as confident and sure of myself as she did. With a quick peck on my cheek and a huge smile, she was out the door, heading home to do her own primping. I promised I’d call her after my date with Toby so we could exchange details. This elicited a slight glare from Jessie because I’d forgotten to do it the last time I’d gone out with Toby. Never living that down.

  Within a few minutes, I was ready and waiting by the door. It wasn’t even eleven yet. As I watched Jessie’s car turn the corner of my street and disappear out of sight, I noticed Toby was watching me from his perch on the hood of his Mustang in the driveway next door. Damn. And there
I was all proud for being early.

  When our eyes connected, he smiled, and my heart skipped a beat. Or two. Possibly more. He slid down the hood of his car and started walking toward my front door.

  I was secretly thankful I hadn’t seen Frankie. Or my parents. I was in a really great mood and didn’t want anyone dampening my spirits by trying to talk me out of seeing Toby. I also wanted to avoid any guilt-ridden feelings that seeing Frankie would most definitely induce.

  Unfortunately, a quiet exit wasn’t going to happen. The sound of my parents coming in from the garage stopped me as I was about to run out the door to meet Toby.

  I groaned in defeat … inside my head, of course.

  “Oh good! You’re up!” Noticing I was about to leave, my mother continued. “Ever, honey, before you go … we’ve decided we’d like to meet Toby. We didn’t give either of you a chance, and we’re very sorry.”

  “Um, well, can it wait? We’re about to go somewhere.”

  “It really won’t take long, Ev, we’re not going to interrogate the boy, are we Love?” My dad flashed an evil grin, but began laughing unabashedly when my eyes widened.

  “Ever, relax,” he said around bouts of laughter. “Mom and I promise we won’t embarrass you. Too much.”

  “Oh geez. Okay. Let me at least give him some warning before you pounce, alright?” I started to turn for the door when I realized something. “Hey, guys? Please make sure Frankie stays out of sight!”

  Toby was waiting for me on the porch. He didn’t say anything when he saw me; he just put his arms around me and pressed his face into my neck, inhaling deeply. Though I was completely overjoyed to be in his arms, I was a bit uncomfortable knowing my parents were on the other side of the door. I imagined them with their noses pressed against the wood, fighting over the tiny peephole.

  Mmm, I thought, breathing him in. He smelled fresh … like Irish Spring soap.

  He moved his face up and found my mouth, closing over it with his own in a slightly restrained kiss. When he stopped and pulled away, I was happily breathless.

  “Well, hello to you too,” I said with a giggle.

  “Hey.” He kissed me again, but this time just a quick peck. “You look especially amazing today.”

  I ran my hand over the braid hanging over my shoulder, twisting the bottom of it in my fingers. “Um, thanks,” I managed to get out through my huge smile and red cheeks. I was giddy all over again, the butterfly frenzy in my stomach becoming a usual occurrence now. I’d have to get used to that. Not that I was complaining.

  He was wearing dark-washed blue jeans and a black and white ringer. His faded black boots had been replaced with black Chuck Taylors. I was sure Jessie would be glad to know we weren’t totally matching, but the converse made me think of Frankie, sending a pang of guilt through me. With a deep breath and a quick shake of my head, I pushed the guilt aside and made myself focus on the guy in front of me instead of the ghost in my house.

  “So … it turns out my parents want to meet you.”

  His eyebrows rose slightly, but he smiled.

  “Okay. Is now good? I mean, I can only be out in the sunlight for so long, you know.”

  I laughed at his vampire reference and gently shoved him, grabbing his hand to head inside. When we entered the house, I was pleasantly surprised to see that my parents weren’t standing on the other side of the door. Instead, they were sitting at the kitchen table, and my mom was brewing a fresh pot of coffee. When they saw us, my dad stood and shook Toby’s hand, while I introduced him to them both.

  “Toby, this is my dad, George, and my mom, Annabelle. Guys, this is obviously Toby.”

  After that, I just stood there. I had absolutely no idea what to say after the introductions were made. Luckily, my mom quickly went into hostess mode, getting everyone a cup of coffee and placing some banana bread on the table.

  “Well, Toby, you and your father are antiques dealers, is that correct?”

  Toby glanced at me curiously before he smiled at my mom, diving into a similar explanation as the one he’d given me.

  Funny, I didn’t remember telling my mom about Toby’s profession.

  My dad, clearly much less impressed or curious about Toby’s work, interrupted the story smoothly and changed the topic to one about cars.

  “Say son, what year is that black stallion you’ve got parked outside?”

  My mom clucked her tongue at my dad for interrupting, but did so with a smile, and I knew she was just pleased to see him joining in the conversation with Toby.

  “Nineteen sixty-five, sir. Want to take it for a spin?”

  And that’s when Toby won my dad’s heart. Their mutual knowledge and adoration of classic cars made for a very easy conversation between the two of them. My nervousness faded away. The four of us took a few quick spins around the neighborhood, my dad smiling like a circus clown the entire time.

  About an hour later, pleased with both my choice in boys and my easy-going parents, I kissed my mom and dad goodbye and headed out for my date.

  “Well, that wasn’t so bad. You’re parents seem pretty cool.”

  “Yeah, I guess they are, aren’t they?”

  It had gone really well in fact, and luckily, I hadn’t seen even a trace of Frankie while we’d been inside.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise. There’s somewhere I’d really like to go, and I’m hoping once we get there that you can show me around. Ready?” He hurried in front of me to open the door to the Mustang.

  As we pulled out of Toby’s driveway, I noticed his dad standing in the window of their living room. My mom’s gossip mill information had been correct—he was insanely handsome, although a bit young looking. I deduced it was where Toby’s good looks came from. My appreciation of him ended abruptly, as did my sense of relaxation after the smooth meeting between Toby and my parents, when I caught his dad’s fierce stare. The way he was looking at me sent a chill down my spine.

  I shuddered. What the hell?

  Toby looked over at me and followed my eyes to the front of his house. When he saw his dad standing there, his jaw hardened, and he picked up speed. We practically burned rubber getting out of the driveway.

  “Whoa. Easy there, Speed Racer. You okay?”

  “Yeah, I just … never mind. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just excited to spend the day with you, that’s all.”

  I knew there was more to it but didn’t push him further. I had already concluded that Toby would rather talk about anything than his home life and his family, and I was okay with that. He’d tell me when he was ready. Plus, he had just endured over an hour of talking with my parents, and even though it hadn’t been nearly as torturous as I’d thought it would be, it couldn’t have been the greatest way for Toby to start his day.

  But as we drove away, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling his dad’s stare left me with.

  After a little over twenty minutes of driving, I realized that the somewhere he’d like to go was the Queen Mary in Long Beach. I hadn’t been there forever and didn’t really think of it as a date type place. But I was open, and seeing the ship looming up in front of us turned out to be a bit more exciting than I would have expected. The ship was massive.

  Toby quickly came to my side of the car, opening the door for me and taking me by the hand. His fingers intertwined with mine, and he gave my hand a squeeze that sent sensations throughout my body. I was falling fast, and falling hard, and I hadn’t thought about Frankie in—well, that’s not necessarily accurate, but I was trying not to think about Frankie. That’s really the best I could do, and more than I’d done before.

  The ship was bigger than I even remembered. Once onboard, we headed to lunch at the Promenade Café. The hostess sat us at a table near a wall of windows overlooking the harbor. The day was beautiful and sunny with very little smog, so the view was amazing.

  The restaurant gave me the same feeling of stepping back in time that the rest of the ship did, with
carpet that had an art deco pattern in shades of blue, mustard, cream, burgundy, and black, and large circular lights popping out of the ceiling like portholes looking in, not out. Amid all the architectural details from the 1930’s, I felt as though I was actually a part of something larger than myself.

  We ordered our meals and waited, reading through various pamphlets while we did. As soon as the plates were on the table, we simultaneously removed the dill pickle spears from our plates. We noticed ourselves doing it at the same time and laughed.

  “I hate pickles,” he said, grinning around a mouthful of burger.

  “I only like Bread and Butter pickles.”

  We talked a bit during the meal, and I told him everything I knew about the Queen Mary … which was very little. Our server, after overhearing us and helping herself to a seat at our table, began telling us about a couple tours we could take, rambling on and on about the haunted tour while absently rubbing one of her old, callused heels with equally old and callused fingers.

  She proceeded to tell us about the people—ghosts—who resided aboard the Queen Mary, which of course made me think of my own ghost. Feeling annoyed by my thoughts, I tried to push him out of my mind and listen to her stories.

  One couple in particular, who you could occasionally—supposedly—see swimming in the pool, was the focus of her story. Apparently, these were the ghosts that she’d personally had contact with. She explained to us that she’d been on the deck by herself after her shift just a few weeks ago, when the man waved to her from the water, smiling and beckoning for her to join them. Toby and I looked across the table at each other with amusement in our eyes, and poorly hidden smiles on our faces.

  I was fighting a very strong urge to kiss him. But I decided that doing so right in front of our waitress might be frowned upon. Especially while she was mid-story. Still, the desire to do so was there nonetheless.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” she accused, noting our smiles. “Well, that’s fine. I know what I saw. You two aren’t too scared to check it out for yourselves now, are you?”

  Um, no. Our server definitely had a few ghost stories of her own, but I knew her experiences had nothing on mine. I just smiled at her and shook my head, not knowing how to answer, when what I’d really like to do was invite her over to dinner. Not only would my ghost smile and wave at her, but he’d sit right down next to her and strike up a conversation. I had no doubt that his slightly crooked smile, big brown eyes, and casual ease would charm the pants right off that tired old waitress. She winked at me, as if following my thoughts, and turned back toward the kitchen.