by S. L. Scott
Turning my back on him, I ask Sunny who the girl is.
“That’s what I’ve been telling you. Didn’t you hear anything I’ve been saying? I’m not sure what’s going on with him.”
I down my drink and leave the scene with my heart lying wounded in the pit of my stomach.
The wind is blowing and the ocean is loud, but I still hear Evan yell from behind me. “Mallory! Don’t leave.” His tone is demanding and I stop then continue to Noah’s side. A few people are watching us, my back is to Evan, but I know he’s coming. Like me, that string that bonds us together is tightening around his heart as much as it is mine. I wonder if I should give in, like he’s starting to.
“Hey, stay here and you’ll be fine. I can handle him,” Noah says.
He doesn’t understand. Hell, I don’t, but I know I’m going to have to deal with whatever this pull is between us and either end it or embrace it.
Evan calls my name again and I glance back over my shoulder. I hadn’t noticed his un-tucked, wrinkled shirt, or his worn jeans. I hadn’t noticed that his hair is messier than usual or that his beard has grown since I saw him yesterday. And when we were staring into each other’s eyes mere minutes earlier, I hadn’t noticed that he’d been drinking, heavily. But as he stumbles towards me, the whole picture is much clearer. He’s a mess and drunk. The problem is that I’m not drunk enough to not notice these things about him now.
His chest presses against my side, his whole being intrusive. “Mallory, please. We need to talk,” he says, his voice but a whisper.
“I don’t think you should talk to him while he’s wasted,” Noah says. His hand grasps my shoulder and squeezes.
“I don’t think you have a say in it, there, Nohea,” Evan strikes, his anger apparent in his tone. He takes a step back from me. “Oh, and by the way, interesting choice in gifts. Did Mallory tell you she died yesterday? I should fucking punch you for that.”
Reflexively, my hand touches the white bandage on my head. I look down feeling sorry for the guilt I know Noah feels. He’s apologized endlessly and he seemed relieved to know the board got destroyed, or so I told him. I just didn’t tell him how it got destroyed.
I look to Noah and then back to Evan, caught in the middle, and unsure of my next move. Zach comes up behind Evan, and takes him by the arm. “C’mon, dude. Not here and not now.”
Evan shrugs him off. “It’s cool. No scene.” He looks back at Noah and says, “Just give me a few minutes… alone.”
Noah shakes his head. “Ashford, you’re fucking trashed. You should leave.”
When Evan’s eyes come back to mine, his anger filters into pain as if I’ve stabbed him in the heart. Betrayal—that’s the look he gives me. His voice softens, and he asks, “May I speak with you, privately please?”
Stepping forward, without a word, I walk away from Noah, heading for the parking lot and out of everyone’s judgmental line of sight. Evan doesn’t say a word either, but I know he’s following me. When I reach his car which is parked in the shadows of the lot, I turn around. He’s still walking, head down, hands in pockets, broken.
As he nears, I gulp. I need to be strong, but around him I feel weak and vulnerable. He comes so close to me that our bodies are almost touching. My breath deepens as he leans forward and I lean back, away from him, my back hitting his car as his arms trap me in place. “Are you trying to scare me?” I sound bolder than I am.
“You know I would never hurt you,” he says, his breath hitting my face as he presses his body to mine. He smells of cigarettes, whiskey, and perfume, her perfume. My hands fly to his chest and I push him off. His hands grab my wrists, trying to still me.
“Let go of me. Your date is waiting.” I struggle to free myself.
“I’m not with her—”
“Well, she’s with you—”
“Don’t be silly. She’s a girl that thinks she’s with me. You and I both know better.”
“I don’t know anything about you, Evan.”
“You know I want you—”
“You want to fuck me and eventually throw me away just like every other girl that you come in contact with.”
He stares deep into my eyes and I detect a tinge of vulnerability. “If I wanted to do that, I would’ve, but here I am again.”
“I don’t know why you’re here. You never cared about me. It was all a game to you and I was just another fuck.”
“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart,” he says, his words callous as he buries his real feelings like he’s so good at doing. But I can see through the façade.
“We’re even then.”
“Don’t tell me Mallory Wray got her feelings hurt? You’ve put on this whole tough girl act since you arrived on the island. Yet, to Kalei, you’re warm and fucking cozy. Well, you made your choice tonight, didn’t you?”
I stop struggling, shocked by how his words wound and yet make me want to defy everything he says. The tears that threatened seconds earlier dissolve as my anger takes over. Looking him dead in the eyes, I say, “I hate you, Evan. I hate you with all my heart.” Pure lies I pray I believe one day.
My hands are dropped. He releases them as if they’ll burn him if he holds them any longer. He laughs, but there’s no joy behind it as I move around him and start walking away. I stop when he says, “Hate, huh? Well, it looks like we’re back to square one, baby.”
My head hurts and my hand once again goes to the bandage covering my temple. The tears return. “I revealed my true emotions to you yesterday on the beach.” I look down at my bare feet, keeping my back to him, and say, “I didn’t make a choice because there was never one to make in my opinion. But tonight, it seems you’ve made it for me. I have had such strong feelings for you and yet… whatever, Evan, it doesn’t matter and… you’ve never made me laugh—”
“That’s what you want?” He comes stalking toward me. “What the hell! I’ve been killing myself trying to figure out how to win your heart when all I had to do was tell some lame jokes to amuse you.”
Allowing one last indulgence for us both, I rub my nose against his scruffy chin. Steadying myself, I whisper, “You’re going to regret having this conversation while you were drunk. You’re not going to remember some of the details, so take note, baby, because this is the moment I walk out of your life for good.”
Caught in a limbo for what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds, we stare into each other’s eyes. He’s upset as reality slaps him across the face. “Please, don’t give up on me.”
Knowing I’ll give in if I hold his gaze any longer, I turn away. “I already have.” Gathering my gumption back together, I leave him there and return to the bonfire.
Noah offers me his drink. I take it and down the alcohol.
“Guess we need another round.” Noah signals his friend for two more.
I bum a cigarette from one of Noah’s friends and inhale deeply, impatient for the calm I know it will bring.
Luckily, I have another drink in my hand before I have time to regret my words to Evan. I take a few quick gulps then sip the rest.
“You want to talk about it?”
“Is there really anything to talk about?” I ask, unable to look at Noah. He’ll see through me and then I’ll break down and I just can’t have that happen right now, right here. I’ll save that for when I’m alone tonight.
“You know I don’t care for the guy, but it’s pretty obvious you do. As your friend, I’d tell you to stay away from him. He’s bad news, Mallory.”
I finally look up, and smirk. “What would you tell me if I wasn’t your friend?”
“I’d tell you to stay away from him because he’s bad news.”
I laugh, acknowledging the humor in his advice. “Yes, he is, but I can’t resist a wounded soul.”
“Some people are beyond repair. You’re fighting a losing battle.”
“Honestly, Noah, I don’t know if I’m fighting him or myself anymore. All I know is that I’m tired of fig
hting.”
I’m thankful Evan doesn’t stay at the party, but I’m also disappointed that he’s gone and worried since he drove drunk. I turn to look for Sunny, but sway, off-balance. Noah chuckles as he steadies me. “You okay?” he asks.
“I’m being stupid. I’m just drunk. Will you take me home?”
“Yeah, I think you’ve definitely had enough to drink.”
I fall asleep on the way back and am barely awake when Noah scoops me from his Jeep and carries me to the door. “Key?” he whispers.
Digging into my back pocket, I produce the front door key and he unlocks it easily while still holding me. He brings me inside and I direct him to the couch.
“You sleep on the couch?”
“Yep,” I answer, keeping my eyes closed.
He lays me down and kisses me on the back of the head as I snuggle into a tight ball burrowing into the cushions.
“Get some rest, and I’ll see you in a few days.”
Noah leaves and I lie there with my eyes closed drifting into unconsciousness.
The sound of light rain pattering against the glass door wakes me. Making my way to the bathroom, I notice Sunny isn’t home. I’m careful as I walk back to the couch hoping I don’t run into any furniture in the dark apartment. The time catches my eye—3:49 a.m.
I slide my skirt off and take my bra off, dropping them to the floor, preferring to sleep in just my soft T-shirt. Just as I start to lie back down, I see someone on the patio through the glass. I freeze as my heart races with fear.
My adrenaline spikes and my eyes adjust to the dark. I’m able to make out Evan’s profile slumped in the chair. I hesitate, although deep down, I want to see him. I may not like how he affects me, but I’m realizing that it’s not changing no matter how much I want it to. Walking over to the sliding glass door, I open it, and he stands slowly—sluggish. He’s wet from the rain and tired in appearance.
I reach my hand out to him, and he takes it reluctantly.
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he says. He’s not able to look at me and I can hear the shame in his voice, and see it in his demeanor.
“Then don’t,” I whisper, pulling him inside.
Chapter 16
Evan
“You said you hate me, Mallory.” She doesn’t throw words around carelessly, so those words were meant when she said them.
“I don’t hate you. I want to hate you, but I can’t,” she replies, looking down briefly.
I have to know if it’s too late. The knots in my stomach tighten, and I ask, “What about your heart?”
Her head jerks up, and there’s a conviction in her eyes. “My heart feels strongly about you, but it’s not hate that it feels.” She notices my clothes, and offers, “You’re dripping on the carpet. You want to take those off? I’ll put them in the dryer for you.”
I don’t have time to answer before she starts unbuttoning my shirt and taking it off. I reach down and pull off my jeans not embarrassed in the least to be standing in front of her in briefs. I’ve been too comfortable around her since I met her. There’s something about her that puts me at ease. She’s soothing to me like no one else.
“I have some boxer shorts you can borrow, if you like?”
My eyes never leave hers as I try to joke. “Are you trying to get me naked?”
She laughs which makes me smile. “How about I get those shorts?” She hurries over to a small dresser strangely positioned outside the bathroom and quickly finds the shorts. She tosses them to me maintaining a safe distance between us. I don’t like that she feels she needs to do that.
She lowers her gaze as I strip my briefs off and pull the dry boxers on. I chuckle at how she is looking everywhere except at me. “You do remember that you’ve seen me naked before, right?”
“I remember… quite vividly.” With a new found determination, she looks up and then surprises me by walking across the room, and standing well within my personal space. I have to admit, I like that she surprises me like this. But I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She’s unpredictable and that frustrates me. I think she’s going to do one thing and she does exactly the opposite. To prove my point once again, she runs her finger down my chest, and says, “I don’t want to fight with you, but I need some answers.”
“Okay.” I agree because we do need to talk. I was just hoping to be rested before we did it.
“Why were you on the beach yesterday morning?”
I grab her exploring finger just as it reaches my happy trail—a trail that if I let her wander down further will lead us to do things we can’t take back. Things like three-word phrases being confessed that would end me if I was rejected. Things like selfishly wanting to own her body and doing things to her that would make my fantasies blush. And things like making her promises too soon that won’t do either of us any good. She makes me want a future that’s not possible, and one I don’t deserve. She makes me believe in the possibility of happiness, which is everything I’ve convinced myself is unattainable. So I stop her because this is not the time for any of that, much less sex, and she’s not going to put up with my bullshit anymore.
“I was going surfing, dawn patrol. The surf report said the waves there were decent. I wasn’t stalking you or anything like that.” Even though that’s what it sounds like. I leave that part off, not wanting to freak her out, so I stick to the facts.
“But you come here sometimes,” she says, looking me straight in the eyes, and cocking an eyebrow, waiting for me to answer. Not a direct question, but she needs an answer.
I’m not sure she really wants to know that I cruise by her place like a horny seventeen-year-old, so I resort to my usual tactics. “Do you want the truth or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”
“You already know this about me. The first day we met you knew the answer to that.”
She’s right. I knew she’d only want the truth. I’m going to confess my dirty secret, though I know that she’s not going to be happy to hear it.
“I’ll admit that I’ve driven by hoping to see you, but tonight is the only time I came up here. I just needed to see you. I needed to know you were home and safe.” I sigh, running my hands in my hair out of frustration. “Wait, I have come to the apartment before without you knowing.”
Her eyes widen. But when her lips part, I get momentarily distracted looking at them, the fullness, the deep pink color, the way she licks them. It’s all very distracting.
“Evan?”
I look up, my eyes meeting hers again. “Sorry,” I say with a light shake of my head. “The other night I couldn’t sleep, so I drove over here, too. I just wanted to check on you. In some fucked up way it brings me peace to know you’re safe on that couch, but that night you fell asleep on the surfboard—”
I see her mind turning as the dots connect. “You put me on the couch, didn’t you?”
The problem with honesty is that it leads to hope that things will work out the way they should. That’s bullshit though because it rarely does. “Like I said, I don’t usually come up to the apartment, but… I did when I saw you on the floor. I was hoping you wouldn’t remember. I know from personal experience that a surfboard is not a good place to sleep.”
“You stalk me?”
Stalk? Stalking… I wouldn’t consider what I do stalking. “No, I’m more like a peeping Tom—”
“Peeping Tom is better than saying stalking?”
“Not better, just more accurate,” I correct her. “Like I said, it’s usually just a drive by. We’ve all done that shit before.” I scrub my face with my hands, knowing how deranged this all sounds when I say it out loud.
She should be just as upset by my admission as I am by my own creepy behavior, but she’s not showing any emotion which makes me nervous. Once again, she surprises when she says, “Tell me about the morning I drowned.”
I don’t over think this or try to cover to make myself sound better. The truth is good. “Right when I pulled into the lot
, you were heading out, attempting to surf. A very poor attempt, I might add.”
“What can I say?” she says nonchalantly, “I had other things on my mind during my one and only lesson.”
She’s cracking jokes. Maybe there’s room for a little hope after all. But the memory of her wipeout takes precedence in my mind. “I was already in the water before you fell. That’s probably why you didn’t see me. God, Mallory, if I hadn’t been there…” I look away as memories of her drowning collides with my past, blurring the lines between long brown hair and short black hair. Different people entirely, but so similar I feel my stomach churn. Instinctively, I reach for her hips, my hands gently on her body, tentative, but reassuring to me. “Can I hold you?”
Her concerned eyes look down. She’s unsure of how this is going to play out. My fear is that she might not even want it to. Stepping forward, she closes the gap, and I wrap my arms around her. The tension between us is thick and heavy, weighing us down.
“Hold me, Mallory,” I whisper so quiet that I’m not sure if she heard. Maybe it’s best if she didn’t. I don’t know anymore. I’ve lost myself. I’m lost in all that she is and I need more.
She touches my shoulders, both of us knowing this is not how two lovers embrace. It’s not even how two friends embrace. This is how two enemies who’ve decided to call a truce hold each other and it’s painfully frustrating.
“Damn it, Evan! Hold me like you did that first night.” She probably thinks she shouldn’t have said that, but like me, I can tell she’s tired of playing this volleying match. Lowering her voice, she says, “You made me feel beautiful and cared for.”
Wanting to also feel that same connection, I squeeze my arms around her. “You are beautiful and I do care… too much.” Enveloping her body with mine, I risk it all and lightly place kisses across the top of her head. “I’m sorry for being a coward. I’ve just never met anyone who means so much and I don’t want to hurt you again.”
As she rubs her cheek against mine, I regret not shaving. I have a lot of regrets when it comes to her, the least of which is probably not shaving.
