by Scott, S. L.
“Bet Evan freaked when he found out about this Ryan dude,” Zach adds in, laughing. We all look at him and his smile disappears. “What… Oh! Oh shit is more like it, I guess. What happened?”
“Put it this way,” Sarah explains, “one guy ended the night with a bloody nose and the other with a broken ego and neither of them was Evan.”
Josh smiles, joining in the conversation. “He became my hero after that night. He doesn’t take crap from anyone.”
“Not when comes to his toys or his women,” Zach adds, then sips his beer.
“Women? As in plural?” I ask, turning to Zach. I’m joking with him… mostly.
“No, not plural. Woman. Only you, Mallory. He won’t take any shit when it comes to you. He tends to get protective over his…” Zach doesn’t finish that sentence, but with his eyes on me, I have a feeling he was going to say Evan’s possessions. My stronger side would take offense to it. My softer heart swoons. Damn romantic heart.
Zach clears his throat and looks at the others. “Since I’ve known Evan, he never cared enough about any other girls to want to fight for them.”
Sunny rubs his shoulder. “Mallory’s special.”
He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “I feel the same about you.”
“Awww, honey, that’s so sweet.”
“Well, I think he’ll fit in fine at Boulder.” Josh turns to Zach and they start talking. “So how do you know, Evan?”
Zach sits up straighter. “We’ve known each other for years. We both grew up in New York, for the most part. Our families traveled a lot, but New York was our home base, same social circles and all that. We ran into each other again when he moved out to Hawaii a few years ago and basically had each other’s back ever since.” Zach looks at me. “He’s a good guy, but he’s lucky to have Mallory.”
“Here, here,” Sunny chimes in, holding her glass up in the air to toast.
The rest of the night is laid-back, and easy-going. It’s fun to hang out with my friends again. The more beer I drink the harder it is to keep my secret, especially with my best friends here. Evan and I promised to wait until after he got my dad’s blessing, if he gets his blessing, but I feel guilty for keeping such a huge secret from them.
The more I drink, the more the night feels incomplete or maybe it’s that I feel incomplete. I miss Evan and each day that passes magnifies that feeling. Doubts creep in that his mother will change her mind and try to keep us apart again. I take another two gulps and push those dark feelings down.
The night was fun, but I’m glad to be home. It’s the wee hours of the morning when my phone chirps, letting me know I have a text. Sunny dropped me off hours ago, so I know the only other person it can be. I touch the message icon and read: Open your front door.
“Shit!” I scurry out of bed and run down the stairs. My hands are shaking with excitement, the deadbolt and chain becoming a nuisance while I roll my eyes in annoyance at my dad’s overprotective nature. When I finally get the locks undone, I throw the door open.
My breath catches as my gaze lands on Evan. He’s standing in front of me with snow in his hair, a sexy smirk on his face, and a bag in hand.
He drops the duffle bag, his own hands going into his pockets as if he’s holding himself back. “You really should get dressed before you answer the door. You’ve developed a bad habit.”
“I knew it was you,” I say, all smart-ass, putting my hands on my hips and pretending to be irritated.
“Well, in that case,” he says, taking a large step forward. One hand cups my cheek and the other weaves into my hair. His nose rubs slowly against mine as he takes in the features of my face at this close range. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, his lips press lightly to mine, kissing me once, twice, three times, before murmuring, “God, I missed you, baby.”
“Babe, it’s two in the morning. How? Wha—”
“I couldn’t stay away any longer.”
I throw my arms around his neck, not caring that my chest gets a little wet from the snow on his clothes that melts between us. Closing my eyes, I inhale him into my system. Cold and shivering, I turn around, grabbing his hand tightly, and say, “Come inside.”
“Yeah, I don’t like you being outside in your skivvies when it’s cold like this. Get your sexy ass in there.” He smacks my ass when I turn toward the house.
I laugh as he follows me inside, but as soon as we’re inside the house, I put my finger in front of my mouth, silently telling him to be quiet. He looks at me and then whispers, “Should I get a hotel?”
Shaking my head, I point at the couch.
His shoulders fall in disappointment and he mouths, “Really? The couch?”
After setting his bag down, he turns back to me and a sweet smile appears. I go to him, unable to resist him. “I’ll tell you what,” I whisper, lifting up on my toes. “Leave your stuff here and come with me.” Taking him by the hand, I lead him up the stairs to my room, stopping to grab a towel out of the hall closet on the way. Carefully and quietly closing the door behind him, I turn my back to it and lean against the wood while locking it.
“Are you allowed to have boys in your room?” Evan looks at me and teases.
“Stop it.” I throw the towel and hit him on the chest.
He dries his hair, then tosses it on the bed. Taking two steps, closing the gap, Evan takes hold of my wrists with a tight grip and an intense gaze aimed at me. “I missed you.”
The words are rushed, but the same sentiment meant. “I missed you.” My breath comes heavily, my chest starting to rise slowly and fall deeply from the sexual tension.
Leaning down to my ear, he murmurs, his words just breaths shared between us. “I want you.” He releases my wrists and I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, holding him close.
I pull him toward the bed, wanting him just as much. But he stops. Looking over my shoulder, he asks, “What is that?”
“What is what?” I ask, following his gaze.
“Seriously, is that a twin-sized bed?”
“This is the room I grew up in—”
“Okay, but weren’t you a teenager in this room at one time? Do teenagers sleep in twin beds?”
Releasing him, turned on and a little annoyed that we’re not already on that bed taking care of business, I look down at my body and sway my hands in the air. “I’m not exactly a giant here.”
“Good point.”
To get things back on track, I pull my shirt off and over my head. He takes his clothes off and I remove my shorts and stand there admiring his physique until he catches me, his eyes scanning over my body.
The bed creaks when we lay down. I switch off my lamp and we roll over to face each other trying to ignore the springs as they bear the brunt of our weight.
He wiggles his legs and says, “My feet hang off.”
“Shhh. I just want to look at you.” I caress his cheek.
He leans forward and places a kiss on my forehead. “My eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark yet.”
“Shhh, babe. Keep your voice down. I’m so happy you’re here, so just let me appreciate the moment, Mr. Complainey-Pants.”
Thirty seconds or less. That’s all he gives me. His hand slides up my bare thigh and then onto my hip. “Are you done appreciating me yet? Can I talk now?” He chuckles.
“You’re hopeless, you know that?”
His hand slides up my ribs as his fingers play them like a piano. “Absolutely. I’m hopelessly in love with you. That’s why you love me, baby.”
I can tell he’s grinning even in the dark. Placing my hand on his arm, I squeeze his bicep, because I can. He tightens it, showing off because he can. His lips are suddenly on my lips and his body leans onto the side of mine. The weight of him is heavenly and I sigh in contentment.
Time doesn’t exist when we’re like this—all of our worries becoming obsolete. Our tongues touch, and as if by memory, they move in harmony, feeling at peace, feeling at home. He rolls all the way o
n top of me, creaky springs in full effect, as he settles on top of me.
His breath is hot against my skin, awakening each nerve in my body. But then he says, “I don’t think we’re gonna be able to do this,” and I open my eyes, confused by his change of mind.
“Please, babe. I need you.”
“I need you too, so much. But this bed is too small and loud. Your parents are just down the hall.”
“It’ll be fun, like a challenge—”
“From what I remember you’re kind of noisy, too.” He nods to back his words.
“You’re right. How about the floor?” I wiggle my middle, feeling how ready he is for me, wanting him to feel how much I want him.
“The floor solves the bed issue, but what about you?”
“I promise to be quiet.”
“I really don’t want to wake Clay Wray up because you’re screaming, ‘Oh, Evan,’ at the top of your lungs.”
I hit him on the chest. “You sure are confident. Now, hurry up alright already. My dad will be up in four hours to go bird-watching and guess who’s going with him.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say bird-watching with your dad?”
I can feel him losing interest with all this talk of parents… and birds.
“It’s me, Evan. You’re with me.” I touch his face, making him focus on my eyes. “I want to feel you, all of you. We’ll move to the floor and I promise to be quiet.”
Getting up, he takes my hand and kisses my palm. I drag the comforter from the bed and we situate ourselves on the floor, assuming the same position from a minute earlier.
As we kiss, his fingers dance across my chest and then straight down. “Hey?”
“Mmhmm,” I mumble, enjoying his gentle touch and soft kisses.
His fingers tighten—a pressure surging as he strokes my body. “You’re mine.”
We stop kissing and I pull back just enough to see his eyes. “I’m yours, always.” He owns me body and soul.
We spend time, hours pass, rediscovering, though it’s not been three weeks since we last saw each other. But somehow this reunion is different—our dream of being together finally a reality.
“We need to get you downstairs,” I say, breathing against his chest while resting my head so I can hear his heart beat, which always seems to calm me.
“Do I have to?”
I’m tired and could fall asleep like this, but my parents would flip out and I don’t want to deal with that, so I say, “I’m sorry. It sucks, but it’s either you or me down there and I think I’ll stick with my tiny bed. Your feet hang off of it, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Use my own words against me, why don’t ya.”
After we get dressed, Evan covers up in blankets that I pull down from the coat closet. I also grab a pillow and we go downstairs. I tuck him in, then go into the kitchen to write my parents a note, so they’re not completely freaked out when they wake up and find him sleeping on the couch.
When I pass back through the living room, Evan is already asleep. I take a seat in my dad’s recliner and watch him. He has a look of contentment on his face. Before I leave, I kiss him on the forehead and softly on his lips. I sneak back upstairs and pull the covers up to my chin. I can’t stop the smile that takes over my face, my own feeling of contentment filling my soul.
74
Evan
*Poke*
*Swat*
*Poke*
*Swat*
“Evan!”
“Yes!” I startle awake, sitting straight up. My eyes are unfocused, but I can tell I’m not home. “Where the fuck am I?”
“Son, I suggest you watch your mouth in my house and around my daughter.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I shake my head to clear the fogginess. “My apologies, Sir. I traveled all night and I’m kind of out of it.”
Mr. Wray sets a thermos on the coffee table in front of me, and says, “You’ve got ten minutes and then we’re leaving.”
I nod like I actually want to go on this outing. Stretching, I hear my back pop from sleeping on this uncomfortable couch. A flannel shirt is laid out on top of my duffle bag, and I get the hint. I take the shirt and my other clothes into the bathroom and get dressed. When I return, Mr. Wray is standing by the front door, and says, “I’ve got your gear. Meet me at the truck.” He walks out without another word and I realize that Mallory gets her chatty side from her mother.
I glance at the time as I put my watch on. 5:38 a.m. Is it really necessary to leave this early in the morning? I grumble, but I get my ass up because this is what I have to do, three hours of sleep or not.
Coat, gloves, and a hat are slipped on over my clothes and I grab my thermos before walking out to the truck. The truck is okay, but I’d rather be in the nice SUV parked in the driveway. But the truck has the small fishing boat hooked up to it and I briefly wonder what kind of bird watching requires a fishing boat. Guess I’m about to find out.
We talk about my middle of the night arrival which somehow leads him to say, “Seems you’ve been in a bit of trouble here and there.”
It may be freezing outside, but I’m sweating inside the cab of his truck now. I’m wondering how he knows, but it seems he does, so I think it best to be upfront with him. “I’ve, uh, gotten a few tickets and had a few minor arrests for—”
“Listen, I get it, the arrests. You were boys blowing off steam. But my daughter seems pretty intent on keeping you around, so I need to know that all of that is in the past. I don’t want her to be involved with anything illegal.”
“Neither do I, Sir. I would never put Mallory in danger.”
“I hope not.”
That’s all that’s said on the remaining forty-five minute drive to the lake. The silence is appreciated because it gives me time to wake up.
Once we’re on the boat in the middle of the water, the sun rises and he smiles. “Now that is worth getting up early for.”
The sky is lighter, but my nerves are too strong for me to appreciate a sunrise in the middle of a lake in Colorado. I’m supposed to be bonding with Mallory’s father and get him on my side, so I clear my throat and start with small talk. “I bet there’s great fishing here.”
Looking around with binoculars stuck to his face, he whispers, “Keep your voice down or you’ll scare the birds away.” Then he pauses, lowering the binoculars. “It’s a great place to fish. I’ve caught a few eight pounders out here. But this time of year, if we’re really lucky, a Hooded Merganser might be out. They’re usually spotted in the South Platte River area, but we’ve had two recorded sightings of the bird in this area. I’m hoping to be the third.” This is the most animated I’ve seen him. “Check your gear pack. There’s a pair of binoculars in there.”
By nine, he sets his binoculars down and reclines the cushion of his padded chair back. “I don’t think it’s gonna happen today.” A couple of sandwiches are pulled from the small ice chest and two beers, and he hands one of each to me. He’s not said much this morning, but I guess I just needed to give it some time. He cracks the beer open and says, “This whole bird watching thing started as an excuse. I never really got into fishing, but I needed a reason to get out of the house, so bird watching it was. Living with women, a man needs something for himself other than tea parties and dolls, shopping and boy talk.”
I nod in understanding, not sure what I should say to that.
Sitting up and pointing his sandwich at me, he adds, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for marriage and kids, working hard, but it’s nice to get away for a few hours a month.” He relaxes back again, looking off into the distance. “I think Elise likes the time just as much.” He laughs to himself.
Clay Wray is an interesting man. It’s funny how normal he is—just a guy who works hard and loves his family. It’s not about money or the power climb to the top. He’s content in life and though his home isn’t huge, he seems to be happy. That’s a rich man if I’ve ever seen one. I sit back in my chair and look out over the
water to the far shore.
Looking back at me, holding steady with the eye contact, he says, “I don’t usually wake up to find my daughters’ boyfriend asleep on my couch. Since you arrived so late, seems to me that you’re a man on a mission. I’d like to talk about your plans for my daughter.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“I care about your daughter, but I want you to know it’s more than that, Sir,” I say, then clear my throat. “I’m in love with Mallory. I think she’s a pretty spectacular girl.” I gulp hard, a lump suddenly replacing the cough. “And I think I want to marry her.”
“You think you want to marry her?”
“I know I do. I want to marry her.”
“Hmmm.”
Silence.
With a furrowed brow, he takes me by surprise. “Where does your money come from? Your family?”
“Yes. I’m given a monthly stipend that covers most everything I might need or want.”
“So how long does this ‘allowance’ continue?”
I look down, feeling uncomfortable with the direction this conversation has taken. I rarely talk about money with anyone and it makes me defensive.
“Forever. It comes from an inheritance from my grandparents on my mother’s side and started when I was eighteen.”
“So the bottom line is that you’ll always be rich?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Why work? Why go to school? Why not stay in New York City and work for your dad’s company?”
This line of questioning is still easier than talking about my emotions, so I find my footing with him, and respond, “I have my own goals and I don’t want to be a financial consultant or broker and I’m not that fond of New York. I want to be a Psychologist and that means schooling.”
“How does Mallory play into all of this?”
“I’ve given that a lot of thought. I love her and want what makes her happy. I want to help support her dreams no matter what they are. I think she’ll benefit greatly from not having to worry about money. It’s the top reason for divorce in this country and a common stress factor—a factor we won’t be faced with.”
