by Scott, Kylie
“You lie, child bride.” His mouth stretched wide in disgust and he retrieved a bottle of juice from the fridge. “Never mind. I’ll just pick it off.”
“No, you’re going out,” said David. “Me and Ev are having date night too.”
“What? You’re fucking kidding me. Where am I supposed to go?”
David just shrugged and scattered pepperoni atop his steadily growing creations.
“Oh, come on. Evvie, you’ll stand up for me, won’t you?” Mal gave me the most pitiful face in all of existence. It was sadness blended with misery with a touch of forlorn on top. He even bent over and laid his head on my knee. “If I stay in town they’ll know we’re here.”
“You’ve got your car,” said David.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Mal complained. “Don’t let him throw me out into the wild. I’ll get eaten by fucking bears or something.”
“I’m not sure they have bears around here,” I said.
“Cut the shit, Mal,” said David. “And get your head off my wife’s leg.”
With a growl, Mal straightened. “Your wife is my friend. She’s not going to let you do this to me!”
“That so?” David looked at me and his face fell. “Fuck, baby. No. You cannot be falling for this shit. It’s only one night.”
I winced. “Maybe we could go up to our room. Or he could just stay downstairs or something.”
David shoved his hands through his hair. The bruise on his poor cheek, I needed to kiss it better. His forehead did that James Dean wrinkling thing as he studied his friend. “Jesus. Stop making that pathetic face at her. Have some dignity.”
He cuffed the back of Mal’s head, making his long blonde hair fly in his face. Skipping back, Mal retreated beyond the line of fire. “Alright, I’ll stay downstairs. I’ll even eat your shitty broccoli pizza.”
“David.” I grabbed his T-shirt and tugged him toward me. And he came, abandoning his pursuit of Mal.
“This is supposed to be our time,” he said.
“I know. It will be.”
“Yes!” hissed Mal, getting gone while he was ahead. “I’ll be downstairs. Yell when dinner’s ready.”
“He’s got a girl in every city,” said David, scowling after him. “No way was he sleeping in his car. You’ve been played.”
“Maybe. But I would have worried about him.” I tucked his dark hair behind his ears then trailed my hands down to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. The studs in his ears were all small, silver. A skull, an “x” and a super tiny winking diamond. I hadn’t noticed it before.
He pressed his earlobe between his thumb and a finger, blocking my view.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“I was just looking at your earrings. Do they mean anything special?”
“Nope.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Why were you frowning earlier?” He picked up a handful of mushrooms and started adding them to the pizzas. “You’re doing it again now.”
Crap. I kicked my heels, turned all the excuses over inside my head. I had no idea how he’d react to my knowing the things Lauren had told me. What would he think if I asked about them? Starting a fight did not appeal. But lying didn’t either. Withholding was lying, deep down where it mattered. I knew that.
“I talked to my friend Lauren today.”
“Mmhmm.”
I pushed my hands down between my legs and squeezed them tight, delaying. “She’s a really big fan.”
“Yeah, you said.” He gave me a smile. “Am I allowed to meet her or is she off-limits like your dad?”
“You can meet my dad if you want.”
“I want. We’ll take a trip to Miami sometime soon and I’ll introduce you to mine, okay?”
“I’d like that.” I took a deep breath, let it out. “David, Lauren told me some things. And I don’t want to keep secrets from you. But I don’t know how happy you’re going to be about these things that she told me.”
He turned his head, narrowed his eyes. “Things?”
“About you.”
“Ah. I see.” He picked up two handfuls of grated cheese and sprinkled them across the pizzas. “So you hadn’t looked me up on Wikipedia or some shit?”
“No,” I said, horrified at the thought.
He grunted. “It’s no big deal. What do you want to know, Ev?”
I didn’t know what to say. So I picked up my soda and downed about half of it in one go. Bad idea—it didn’t help. Instead, it gave me a mild case of brain freeze, stinging above the bridge of my nose.
“Go on. Ask me whatever you want,” he said. He wasn’t happy. The angry monobrow from drawing his eyebrows together clued me in to that. I didn’t think I’d ever met anyone with such an expressive face as David. Or maybe he just fascinated me full stop.
“Alright. What’s your favorite color?”
He scoffed. “That’s not one of the things your friend told you about.”
“You said I could ask whatever I wanted and I want to know what your favorite color is.”
“Black. And I know it’s not really a color. I did miss a lot of school, but I was there that day.” His tongue played behind his cheek. “What’s yours?”
“Blue.” I watched as he opened the gargantuan oven door. The pizza trays clattered against the racks. “What’s your favorite song?”
“We’re covering all the basics, huh?”
“We are married. I thought it would be nice. We sort of skipped a lot of the getting-to-know you stuff.”
“Alright.” The side of his mouth kicked up and he gave me a look that said he was onto my game of avoidance. The faint smile set the world to rights.
“I got a lot of favorite music,” he said. “‘Four Sticks’ by Led Zeppelin, that’s up there. Yours is ‘Need You Now’ by Lady Antebellum, as sung by an Elvis impersonator. Sadly.”
“Come on, I was under the influence. That’s not fair.”
“But it is true.”
“Maybe.” I still wished I could remember it. “Favorite book?”
“I like graphic novels. Stuff like Hellblazer, Preacher.”
I took another mouthful of soda, trying to think up a genius question. Only all the blatantly obvious ones appeared inside my head. I sucked at dating. It was probably just as well that we’d skipped that part.
“Wait,” he said. “What’s yours?”
“Jane Eyre. How about your favorite movie?”
“Evil Dead 2. Yours?”
“Walk the Line.”
“The one about the man in black? Nice. Okay.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “My turn. Tell me something terrible. Something you did that you’ve never confessed to another living soul.”
“Ooh, good one.” Scary, but good. Why couldn’t I have thought of a question like that?
He grinned around the top of his bottle of beer, well pleased with himself.
“Let me think …”
“There’s a time limit.”
I screwed up my face at him. “There is not a time limit.”
“There is,” he said. “Because you can’t try and think up something half assed to tell me. You’ve gotta give me the first worst thing that comes into your head that you don’t want anyone else ever knowing about. This is about honesty.”
“Fine,” I sniffed. “I kissed a girl named Amanda Harper when I was fifteen.”
His chin rose. “You did?”
“Yes.”
He sidled closer, eyes curious. “Did you like it?”
“No. Not really. I mean, it was okay.” I gripped the edge of the bench, hunching forward. “She was the school lesbian and I wanted to see if I was one too.”
“There was just the one lesbian at your school?”
“Oh, I suspected quite a few people, but only she was open about it. She gave herself the title.”
“Good for her.” His hands settled on my knees and pushed them apart, making room for him. “Why did you think you were a lesb
ian?”
“To be accurate, I was hoping I was bi,” I said. “More options. Because, honestly, the guys at school were …”
“They were what?” He gripped my butt and pulled me across the bench, bringing me closer. No way did I resist.
“They didn’t really interest me, I guess.”
“But kissing your lesbian friend Amanda didn’t do it for you either?” he asked.
“No.”
He clicked his tongue. “Damn. That’s a sad story. You’re cheating, by the way.”
“What? How?”
“You were meant to tell me something terrible.” His smile left a mile way behind. “Telling me you tongue-kissed a girl isn’t even remotely terrible.”
“I never said there was tongue.”
“Was there?”
“A little. The briefest of touches, maybe. But then I got weirded out and stopped it.”
He took another swig of beer. “Your ear tips are doing the pink thing again.”
“I bet they are.” I laughed and ducked my head. “I didn’t cheat. I never told anyone about that kiss. I was going to take it to my grave. You should feel honored by my trust in you.”
“Yeah, but telling me something I’m likely to find a huge turn-on is cheating. You were meant to tell me something terrible. The rules were clear. Go again and give me something bad this time.”
“It’s a huge turn-on, huh?”
“Next time I hit the shower I’m definitely using that story.”
I bit my tongue and looked away. Memories from this morning of David soaping up my hands and then putting them on him assailed my mind. The thought of him masturbating to my brief bout of teen sexual experimentation … “honored” wasn’t quite the right word. But I couldn’t say I wasn’t pleased by the notion. “Well, remember to make me older. Fifteen is a bit skeevy.”
“You only kissed her.”
“You’ll leave it at that in your head? You’ll respect accuracy and legalities, and not take it any further between Amanda and me?”
“Fine, I’ll make you older. And wildly fucking curious.” He pulled me closer using the hands-on-my-butt method again and I put my arms around him.
“Now, go again, and do it right this time.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He gave the side of my neck a lingering kiss. “You weren’t lying about Amanda, were you?”
“No.”
“Good. I like that story. You should tell it to me often. Now go again.”
I ummed and ahhed, procrastinating my little heart out. David rested his forehead against mine with a heavy sigh. “Just fucking tell me something.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Bullshit.”
“I can’t,” I whined. Not anything I wanted to share, anyway.
“Tell me.”
I groaned and bumped my forehead against his ever so lightly. “David, come on, you’re the last person I want to make myself look bad in front of.”
He drew back, inspecting me down the length of his nose. “You’re worried about what I think of you?”
“Of course I am.”
“You’re honest and good, baby. Nothing you might have done is gonna be that bad.”
“But honest isn’t always good,” I said, trying to explain. “I’ve opened my mouth plenty of times when I shouldn’t have. Given people my opinion when I should have kept quiet. I react first and think later. Look at what happened in Vegas, between us. I didn’t ask any of the right questions that morning. I’m always going to regret that.”
“Vegas was a pretty extreme situation.” His hand rubbed my back, reassuring me. “You got nothing to worry about.”
“You asked me how I felt when you had that groupie hanging off you in LA. I dealt with it then. But the fact is, if that happened now and some woman tried to come onto you, I’d probably get stabby. I’m not always going to react well to the rock star hoopla that surrounds you. What happens then?”
He made a noise in his throat. “I dunno, I finally have to realize that you’re human? That you fuck up sometimes just like everybody else?”
I didn’t answer.
“We’ll both screw up, Ev. That’s a given. We just gotta be patient with each other.” He put a finger beneath my chin, raising it up so he could kiss me. “Now tell me about what Lauren told you today.”
I stared at him, caught and cornered. The contents of my stomach curdled for real. I had to tell him. There would be no getting around it. How he reacted was beyond my control. “She told me that your first girlfriend cheated on you.”
He blinked. “Yeah. That happened. We’d been together a long time, but … I was always either recording or on the road,” he said. “We’d been touring Europe for eight, nine months when it happened. Touring fucks up a lot of couples. The groupies and the whole lifestyle can really screw with you. Being left behind all the time is probably no picnic either.”
I bet it wasn’t. “When do you tour next?”
He shook his head. “There’re none booked. Won’t be until we get this new record down, and that hasn’t been going so well until now.”
“Okay. How does this work? I mean, do you believe what happens on the road, stays on the road?” I asked. The boundaries of our relationship had never really been established. Exactly what did our marriage mean? He wanted us to stick together, but I had school to consider, my job, my life. Maybe the good wives just dumped it all and went with the band. Or maybe wives weren’t even invited. I didn’t have a clue.
“You asking me if I’m planning on cheating on you?”
“I’m asking how we fit into each other’s lives.”
“Right.” He pinched his lips between his thumb and finger. “Well, I think not fucking around on each other would be a good start. Let’s just make that a rule for us, okay? As for the band and stuff, I guess we take it as it comes.”
“Agreed.”
Without a word he stepped back from me, crossing over to the stairwell. “Mal?”
“What?”
“Close the door down there and lock it,” David yelled. “Don’t you come up here under any circumstances. Not till I tell you it’s okay. Understood?”
There was a pause then Mal yelled back. “What if there’s a fire?”
“Burn.”
“Fuck you.” The door downstairs slammed shut.
“Lock it!”
Mal’s reply was muffled but the pissy tone carried just fine. These two were more akin to actual brothers than David and his biological sibling. Jimmy was a jerk and just one of the very good reasons we should never return to LA. Sadly, hiding out in Monterey wasn’t a viable long-term solution.
School, band, family, friends, blah blah blah.
David reached for the back of his T-shirt and dragged it off over his head. “Rule number two, if I take my shirt off you have to take off yours. The shirt-off rule now applies to these sorts of conversations. I know we need to talk about stuff. But there’s no reason we can’t make it easier.”
“This’ll make it easier?” Highly doubtful. All that smooth, hot skin just waiting for my touch and my fingers itching to do so. Keeping my tongue inside my mouth while his flat stomach and six-pack were revealed tested my moral fortitude no end. All that beautiful inked skin on display, driving any attempt at a coherent thought straight out of my mind. Good God, the man had some power over me. But wait up, we were married. Morally, I was obliged to ogle my husband. It would be unnatural and wrong to do otherwise.
“Get it off,” he said, tipping his chin at my offending items of clothing.
The stairwell sat calm and quiet. No signs of life.
“He ain’t coming up here. I promise.” David’s hands gripped the bottom of my T-shirt and carefully pulled it off over my head, rescuing my ponytail when it got caught.
When he reached for my bra I pressed my forearms to my chest, holding it in place. “Why don’t I keep the bra, just in case …”
“It’s agai
nst the rules. You really wanna go breaking rules already? That’s not like you.”
“David.”
“Evelyn.” The bra’s band relaxed as he undid the clasp. “I need to see your bare breasts, baby. You have no idea how much I fucking love them. Let it go.”
“Why do you get to make all the rules?”
“I only made that one. Oh, no—two. We have the cheating rule as well.” He tugged at my bra and I eased my grip, letting him take it. No way was I moving my arms though.
“Go on, you make some rules,” he said, running his fingers over my arms, making every little hair stand on end.
“Are you just trying to distract me from the conversation with the no clothes thing?”
“Absolutely not. Now make a rule.”
My hands stayed tucked beneath my chin, arms covering all the essentials, just in case. “No lies. Not about anything.”
“Done.”
I nodded, relieved. We could do this marriage thing. I knew it in my head, my heart. We were going to be okay. “I trust you.”
He stopped, stared. “Thanks. That’s big.”
I waited, but he said no more.
“Do you trust me?” I asked, filling the silence. The minute the words left my lips I wanted them back. If I had to demand his faith and affection, it didn’t mean a damn thing. Worse than that, it did damage. I could feel it, a sudden jagged wound between us. One that I’d made. Of all the stupid times for me to get impatient! I wished it was the middle of winter so I could go stick my head in a snowdrift.
His gaze wandered away, over my shoulder. There was my answer right there. Honesty had already shown me who was boss. How about that? I suddenly felt cold and though it had nothing to do with losing my shirt, I really wanted to put it back on.
“I’m getting there, Ev. Just … give me time.” Frustration lined his face. He pressed his lips together ’til they whitened. Then he looked me in the eye. Whatever he saw didn’t help matters. “Shit.”
“It’s okay, really,” I said, willing it to be true.
“You lying to me?”
“No. No. We’ll be fine.”
In lieu of an answer he kissed me.
You couldn’t beat a well-timed distraction. Heat rushed back into me. His regret and my hurt both took a back seat when I placed my hands on top of his. With fingers meshed I moved our combined hands to cover my breasts. We both groaned. The heat of his palms felt sublime. The chill of disappointment couldn’t combat it. The chemistry between us won out every time. I had to believe more feelings would follow. My shoulders pushed forward, pressing me harder into his hands as if gravity had shifted toward him. But also, I wanted his mouth. Hell, I wanted to crawl around inside him and read his mind. I wanted everything. Each dark corner of him. Every stray thought.
