by S. L. Scott
“This work is what keeps the money rolling in. Keeping you in the lifestyle your parents have generously spoiled you with,” he snapped, shrugging out from under her touch.
She stood there shocked and disappointed since he’d been nicer lately. “I guess Tom is back.” Her sarcasm was evident as she walked toward the couch.
Tom grabbed her arm, jerking her around to face him. “What does that mean?”
“I meant that lately—”
He glared at her. “You should speak kinder of your fiancé.”
“I would if there was something kind to say.” As the words left her mouth, she felt stronger, more confident. She yanked her arm back and walked to the couch.
He rushed her, spinning her around and forcing her to sit down. Fear set in and she stuttered out an automatic response. “I . . . I was rude . . .”
Leaning over, a mere inch from her, he was firm in his demand. “You will respect me!” Tom fisted his hands at his sides, his knuckles turning white. “Your sarcasm is unacceptable. This will be your only warning.”
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think because his words pounded in her ears. And then the oddest thing happened. She focused on two dried rings on the coffee table—two cups—maybe mugs. The watermarks were pale, coffee-colored, and fresh.
Two.
“Do you understand me?” he asked, gritting his teeth as he spoke.
She was at a loss if this was rhetorical or not, so she remained silent, knowing that option was best.
He calmed down, but still had an edge of threat to his tone. “Do you understand me, Everleigh?”
She nodded as she spoke the word, and he turned and left the room. When the bedroom door slammed shut, she gasped for air. Her heart started beating again and she slumped over on the couch and let the tears fall.
She should have left, but was too afraid to face the fury if she did. Ashamed of her weakness to stand strong, she curled up on the couch and stared at the two rings on the table in front of her. Her mind filled with curiosity as to how they got there and how long they had been there. After a few minutes, she closed her eyes, willing everything to go away.
When she awoke a few hours later, she discovered Tom was gone. She gathered her belongings and straightened up as she always did then left. In recent years, she was resolved to the role of Thomas Whitney’s wife. But as she made her way to the library, she had doubts. Doubts she typically shoved to the back of her mind knowing she could never be the wife he wanted. Today, a new perspective had started to implant itself into her psyche, allowing her to daydream of different things—like a whole new life.
In this moment, the promises she made when she was seventeen years old didn’t matter. In this moment, she felt free.
After picking up a half-shift for extra money this morning, William headed to the library to meet Evie. He didn’t have time to shower and felt embarrassed by how dirty he was, but wasn’t going to risk being late and miss the chance to see her again.
After a detour into the bathroom to rinse his face and wash his hands, he worked his way to the small British literature section of the library on the fifth floor and found a table for two by a large window in the corner. He spread his stuff out to reserve the table then opened his textbook and started into his highlighting.
Evie walked straight back to the corner and saw William sitting there as if he’d been there for hours. Maybe he had, she thought. She moved forward plunking her bag onto the table. “Is this seat taken?”
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry, I’m waiting for someone.” When he said this, it confused her. Was he joking or was he waiting for someone else? Maybe he had forgotten about their appointment and didn’t want to be disturbed. “Evie, I’m being sarcastic. Of course, it’s saved, for you.”
“Some people find sarcasm unacceptable.” She paused for impact. “You’re lucky I’m not one of those people.” She laughed at her own joke and it made him smile. Looking at the book in front of him, she pulled the chair out and asked, “Are you highlighting the entire book?”
He set his marker down and chuckled. “No . . . maybe, I’m not sure. I don’t take great notes, but I have a good memory and I highlight what Prof Lang covers in lecture. It fills in the gaps of my horrible notes.” He looked down, kind of embarrassed by his confession.
“My notes are very thorough. I write fast. You can borrow them if you like.”
“Or we could study together?”
“Yeah, like study buddies,” she said with excitement.
He tilted his head and looked at her strange enjoyment over her statement and once again, it gave him hope. He wanted to know all about her and jumped at the opportunity. “Where’d you come from?”
She didn’t want to talk about Tom or that she came from his place. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been in this major for two years and I just now have a class with you?”
“Oh. Um, I’ve been here all along.”
A small ache formed in his chest when she said this and he looked up to meet her blue eyes, which she hid from him. The second she looked up their eyes met. He thought her eyes were graceful and caring and she indulged in the depth of his eyes.
They broke their gaze by busying themselves with mock obligations of reorganizing her bag and acting as if he’d lost his place. She pointed down to the only sentence not highlighted, and said, “I think you left off here.”
He chuckled. “And so I did.”
“I’m going to find the book I need. I’ll be right back.” She said this as if she owed him an explanation for leaving.
He watched her, taking in as much about her as he could before it was considered rude to be staring. She was dressed conservative today in short pants and a buttoned-up sweater. When she turned back to sneak a peek at him, she caught him staring. He retreated back to his highlighting, but smirked to himself.
With a book in hand, she peeked over the pages and snuck another glance at him. He looked rugged and a little tired today. His hair had been in a hat and was sexy in an unkempt kind of way. His clothes needed a good washing and were a wrinkled mess as she had come to expect of him.
She took the book in her hands back to the table and noticed a thin line of dirt across his hairline, becoming even more curious about him. Maybe he was homeless and couldn’t shower or wash and iron his clothes or maybe he didn’t care.
He stood up to stretch and with the air sweeping toward her, she smelled his sweat mixed with cologne. Homeless people don’t usually wear cologne, at least not in Manhattan. The smell was masculine, and for some reason, she found it quite sexy. She giggled at how she had named two different things about him as sexy and both have to do with him not showering. His proximity must be messing with her hormones because she never used to find dirty men sexy.
He sat back down as she tried to find the passage in the library book.
After thirty minutes, she became frustrated by not being able to find a quote she needed for her paper. “Damn it.”
William asked, “Can I help?”
“I don’t know. I’ve read Pride and Prejudice many times, but I can’t remember where the quote I need is.”
“What part are you looking for?”
She laughed. “It’s silly and kind of obscure. It has something to do with the world confirming her beliefs that merit and schooling doesn’t make a person a better man. Oh, I don’t know. I . . .” If only he knew how true that was, she thought as an image of Tom occupied her mind.
“‘The more I see the world the more I am dissatisfied with it.’ That part?” He tilted his head and smiled his charming imperfect smile.
Dumbfounded, she whispered, “Yes.”
He continued, the words coming to him slowly, as she took notes. “‘Every day confirms my belief in the inconsistency of all human characters, and on the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit and sense.’ I think it’s around chapter twenty-three or thereabout.”
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A few minutes later she found the quote. “Chapter twenty-four, you were very close. Do you have the entire book memorized?”
“No, only the quotes that mean something to me.” He looked back down, embarrassed in his revelation.
She leaned across the table, closer to him, and continued to whisper. “Why does that quote have meaning to you?”
“It’s . . .” he said, hesitating, “… it reminds me that other men may have fancier degrees or more money . . . or even a prettier girlfriend, whatever…” He rolled his eyes, “that I’m still their equal. They’re not better than me, just different.”
“Why would you ever feel less than someone else?” Evie was shocked by his admission.
“I don’t come from a fancy zip code and I’m the first in my family who will graduate from college. Guess I’m a little insecure. Kind of dumb, I know. Why’d you want that particular quote anyway?”
“Not dumb at all.” She looked down at her hands, and said, “I know firsthand that a fancier zip code does not a better man make.” She placed the attention back on him. “I may be speaking out of line, but I can tell you’re a good person and I think that is more important than a fancy degree any day.”
As she leaned forward, a silver necklace escaped her sweater—a silver cage pendant with a bird flying away on the chain.
“I like your necklace.” He was sincere, but felt like she might be hiding a secret from him.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, tucking it back under the collar of her sweater.
“What does it mean?”
Suddenly, she wanted him to know more about herself. “You can’t cage something meant to be free.”
He looked into her eyes, knowing there was something more to her words than she was revealing. “Even if free only in their heart?”
“Yes, even if only in their heart.”
Hoping she’d continue, he asked, “What’s with the black ink thing the other day?”
“Enough about me today.” She had turned serious from the vulnerability she felt deep inside. “We can have a discussion about ink and its appropriate uses at a later date.”
Although, ink seemed to be a touchy subject for her, he found her passion for it fascinating and couldn’t wait to discuss it further . . . at a later date.
After an hour of intense concentration and the strong smell of wet highlighter invading her senses, Evie felt lightheaded. She slammed her book closed all of the sudden. “I need some air. I think I’m done for the day. What about you?”
“I’m hungry. You wanna grab some pizza?”
She looked at her watch and as much as she wanted to, it would be impossible in regards to time. “I can’t today. Thank you, but I need to get going.” she said, standing and packing her stuff up, “But, I’ll see you on Monday in class.”
“Sure, in class. Have a good rest of your weekend.”
Before she walked away from him and their little table in the corner, she said, “Hey, thanks for the company today. I got a lot done.” They exchanged one last smile before she left.
Everleigh arrived home to find her sister hanging out in the family room. She hurried to her room, shutting the door behind her, needing a few more minutes to get the excitement she felt from her “meet-up” out of her system.
Ten minutes later, Audrey barged into the bedroom uninvited.
Startled, Everleigh said, “I didn’t say you could come in.”
“Oh lighten up, sis. Where’ve you been all day?”
“At the library,” she said without looking and pulled her notebook from her bag. “I have a paper due Monday.”
“That’s boring stuff! Nothing exciting?”
“No, why?” Everleigh answered too fast and too defensive to sound natural.
Audrey looked at her sister who was smiling to herself. When Everleigh looked up to meet Audrey’s stare, she appeared serious. “What’s going on?” Audrey asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“Nothing. I just need to get this done. Can you please leave?”
Audrey tried to get her sister to open up one last time by teasing her. “You seem . . . what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, happy! You seem happy. That’s new.”
Everleigh threw a pillow at her, not responding to her keen observation, but she did feel happy inside. Happier than she had in a long time and she kind of wanted to bask in the afterglow of her study session with William. Audrey stomped out of the room, shutting the door as she left and Everleigh let her smile reemerge as she began typing her paper.
On Sunday, both William and Everleigh anxiously waited for Monday.
* * *
William entered the large auditorium and spotted Evie right away. She still had open seats on either side of her, so he took a deep breath at the end of the row then tried to appear casual as he walked the rest of the way, dropping his bag on the floor next to her.
She looked up and smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi.” When he sat down, he pulled his notebook out and began digging at the bottom of his bag for a pen.
“I brought this for you.”
He looked over and saw her holding a pen between them—a blue ink pen.
“Nice. Thanks. You know one day I’ll figure out your obsession with pens.” He took the pen, stuck it between his teeth, and smirked at her. He figured if he had the answer to this mystery then he would also learn a lot more about what made this girl tick.
After class, they walked to Bean There. They occupied the two respective tables that seemed reserved just for them and laughed, talked, he highlighted, and she studied.
He loved listening to the delicate hum she sometimes made. He didn’t think she was even aware she did this. She sneaked glances at his concentrating face, forming an appreciation for the smell of yellow highlighter, and smiled, feeling smug that he was writing in blue ink.
Her self-righteous thought was broken by him asking a simple question. “Where’s your favorite place to go in the city?”
“For me, the city lost its luster a long time ago,” she said, discouraged.
Surprised by her reaction, he pressed for more information. “Can I show you that magic still exists?”
Although Evie knew better than to accept offers from guys she barely knew, especially guys she wanted to know better, she felt the need to say yes to him. She wanted to say yes to him. Maybe good still exists in the world, after all, she thought. Maybe he was good. She really hoped he was. She was willing to give him this chance, but more importantly, she needed to give him this chance before all her truths were proven accurate.
“Tomorrow?” she asked, tentative.
“Hmm.” He pondered aloud, but remembered his conflict. “I can’t tomorrow. I have to work—”
“Oh. What do you do?” He had shared another tidbit and she wanted to soak it in.
“I’m a bike messenger, sometimes a foot messenger. It sucks some days and other times I dig it. It changes day-to-day.”
This explained a lot. “Did you work on Saturday?” She was worried about asking him this because if he didn’t he might’ve found this question offensive.
“Yes. I should’ve apologized for my appearance. I didn’t have time to shower before meeting you. I probably looked awful.”
“No, not awful. Not bad at all,” she said, remembering how good he looked.
“I love New York, but the streets are filthy and the dirt and exhaust from the cars gets all over me. Sometimes I wear a mask because I get paranoid about my lungs and stuff.”
She noticed he was very clean looking today, his clothes, shirt, hands, and face. “So, when then?”
“What?”
“When do you want to show me the magic of the city?” She was astounded by her own boldness, but she liked being this brave.
“How about after class on Wednesday?”
She pulled a small planner from her bag and skimmed through her week. “Wednesday after class is perfect.” She jotted down the rendezvous.
&nbs
p; “Blue ink?” William asked, pointing at her pen.
“Always.”
She packed her stuff up, and said, “I have to go, but I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Bye,” he said, but his voice broke, making her smile as she left the coffee shop.
When Everleigh got into Tom’s car, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Good day?”
“Yes,” she answered, “very good day.” Lost in her thoughts on the ride home, she was thinking about how the day had been better than she could have imagined.
They walked into her home together and he poured a drink while she sat down on the floral settee overlooking the park in the distance. With his back to her, he asked, “Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?”
As she stared at the back of his head, she realized he hadn’t really looked at her in a long time, not the real her. “No, I’d like to stay home.” She glanced at his profile, seeing his nostrils flair. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but in some sick way, she almost willed him to be mad. His anger was an emotion she understood. It terrified her, but it was predictable. His other moods, these in-between moods were unpredictable, making it difficult for her to keep her own emotions in check.
Against her better judgment, she gave in. “We’ll go out if you prefer.”
“I do.”
And with that, carefree Evie had gone and Tom’s Everleigh was back.
Chapter 7
It was a simple ferry ride, but Everleigh hadn’t been on one since she was a small child. She loved that William had suggested something unique, something opposite from her normal routine.
They found an empty place against the railing, and William didn’t waste time. “Do you work?”
“No.”
He noticed she didn’t apologize for that fact or seem embarrassed which meant it wasn’t necessary for her to have a job. She must come from money.
It was her turn to ask the questions. “What do you like to do for fun?”
