by Ella Fields
“Ever.” I planted my hands on his chest, my thighs cradling his.
Taking their time, his own hands coasted up my back, eyes firm on mine. “Been a while since you’ve called me that.”
“I guess it has.”
While nothing had happened between us since he’d decided to upend his life and make one here, he’d still made no secret of wanting it to. We’d touched, though never like this, and some nights he even fell asleep on my couch with me after we’d watched TV, but I was holding back.
I was waiting, but I was no longer waiting for him.
As my fingers scrunched the crisp shirt he’d donned, and I felt him hard beneath me, I began to wonder why I was too scared to give him a chance.
Aiden wasn’t coming back. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me. And not only that, but everything I’d ever wanted was finally within grabbing distance.
I just couldn’t bring myself to trust it. To reach out and take it.
“I love you,” he whispered, splitting me wide open as he leaned forward, hands cupping my ass and his lips running over my cheek.
He said it at least once a day, and the way he did so, with such conviction and no expectation, never failed to steal my breath.
Goose bumps erupted over my arms. My eyes fluttered as tingles ignited, a wildfire over every patch of skin he caressed. It felt too good to be touched, to be held, and with such reverence. Unbelievable that he was here. That, for the first time since I’d laid eyes on him, he was putting me first.
“Come on.” Gently, he smacked my ass when I didn’t move. “Let’s get you home.”
I climbed off, and he handed me my purse before nabbing our popcorn boxes.
He dumped them in the trash on the way out, and I was thankful for the warm air as we strolled outside.
“What exactly was it like on the road?” I’d heard secondhand tales from the band, but Everett knew that wasn’t what I was asking. I wanted to know what it was like for him, and I figured it was time to finally ask. To hear about the dream he thought might carry him away from all that haunted him.
He took his time to answer, and worry began to nibble. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”
“Don’t do that,” he said, a tad sharply.
“What?”
“Treat me like shattered glass. I won’t break.” He stopped, and I did too. “You’re not that girl.” He curled some of my hair behind my ear. “You’re the girl who gets mad, asks me the hard questions even if I don’t want to answer them, and gives me hell when I do something you don’t like.”
“Those were different times.”
He licked his lips, inching closer. “Different times, maybe, but we’re the same people, Clover. If you want to ask something, ask. In fact, I’ve been waiting weeks for you to.”
I pushed his hand down and continued walking. “You could’ve been more forthcoming yourself.”
“Not when I’m not sure if you’re ready for that.”
I nodded, and we walked in silence until we’d reached the street’s end.
“It’s every runaway’s dream,” he said, his voice soft but carrying in the still night. “Escapism at its best. But a lot of hard work too.”
We wound around the corner, the sidewalk bathed a dull orange from the streetlights.
“The late nights, shit money—that’s if you get paid anything—the constant traveling on a putrid smelling bus. And when we found a place that paid for regular shows, well, that was great, but I didn’t want to stay in any one place too long.”
“You’d start drinking more,” I cut in as gently as possible.
“Mmm, exactly. And with the drinking came the wildness. We all did it, sure. But I can’t remember many nights, if I’m being honest.” He slowed to light a cigarette.
“Does that scare you?”
“It didn’t then.” Breathing out a puff of smoke, he tucked his lighter and packet into his jacket pocket. “But now that I’m looking back? Fuck yeah. It sickens me.”
I didn’t want to ask what I needed to, but he did say not to sugarcoat. “Have you been tested?”
“Clover,” he said, coughing. “Shit, warn me before you drop bombs.”
I didn’t laugh. “You said to ask whatever I wanted to.”
“I did.” He sighed, clearing his throat before taking another drag. “And yeah, got tested about two weeks ago. But I never fucked without protection.”
“How would you know if you were always shitfaced?”
“Warranted, but do you really wanna know those specifics?”
I gave him a look.
Chuckling, he raked a hand through his tangled locks. “Fine. Besides the fact I just know, I’d see the evidence the next day. Either on the floor, seats of the bus, or in the trash if I was classy enough. But Clover, you—”
“Everett.” I couldn’t hear that.
“It’s fucked up, but you were who I thought of each and every time, and so knowing I couldn’t have you but still not wanting to risk fucking up, it was kind of just ingrained in me.”
“That’s… God, there are no words.” I choked out a sad attempt at a laugh. “That you could just sleep with anyone while I barely looked at another guy until Aiden.”
Now standing outside my place, he slipped his hand around mine and turned me to him. “You and me, we were never supposed to happen. Hell, I’m still pinching myself every day I wake up in this tiny ass town, knowing I’m in the same place as you.”
His hold eased, thumb brushing mine, and my tense limbs drooped as I met his determined gaze.
“It ends now. It ended before Christmas. You’re the only one, the only thing I want. Not the music, not the groupies, not the escape, not the recognition. You. Just me and you and forever.”
“Forever,” I echoed, tasting the word on my tongue.
Dropping his cigarette, he took my face in his cool hands, tilting it back to search my eyes. “We’re still young and stupid, and we’re bound to make more mistakes, but I’m tired of making the same ones. If you’ll believe nothing else I say, then at least believe that.”
With a lingering kiss to my forehead, he released me, and I watched him drift down the street until the shadows swallowed him.
The interior of Zoe’s wrapped me in its smoky embrace, filling my nose with the scent of peanuts, stale beer, and cigarettes.
Neil, a guy from school, was manning the bar alongside its owner and namesake, Zoe.
Zoe was a single mom of three boys, her husband having skipped town when the youngest, Jeff, was born three years ago. The bar had once been her dad’s, who warned everyone she was all bark with extra bite.
Everett was by the stage, untangling cable leads and chatting with some of the locals who frequented the run-down building most nights.
I sidled up to the bar, giving Zoe a smile. Her lips twitched, the piercing in her cheek shifting, and that was as good as it would get smile-wise.
Everett’s attention was pinned on me when I asked for a soda and turned back to face the stage.
I raised my hand, fingers fluttering alongside my stomach as he gave me that devastating, hope-filled grin and then meandered between the tables, coming for me.
“Going to hang around this time?”
I licked my lips, quickly thanking Zoe for the drink she slid over, then let my eyes roam over the black shirt clinging to Everett’s chest. When they reached his face, his own eyes sparkled, all knowing when it came to me. “Depends.”
His brows jumped. “On?”
“On how well you play, I guess.”
“Get on that stage, Taylor, or I’ll be cutting the hot water again.”
I pursed my lips at Zoe’s threat, but Everett only grinned some more.
With a swipe of his fingers beneath my chin, he stalked back through the tables and finished setting up.
It wasn’t the first time I’d come to see him play since he’d shown up in Raslow, but it was the firs
t time I planned to hang around for the whole set. Not that he needed to know that.
Taking a seat on the stool with his guitar strapped to his back, Everett adjusted the mic stand. “How’re we all doing tonight?”
Replies were hollered back, and while taking a sip of water, Everett nodded at an elderly man in the corner of the room. “How’s that hip of yours treating you, Rog?”
“She’s getting there.”
Instead of a forced stage one, Everett flashed a rare genuine smile, swinging his guitar around. “That’s what I like to hear.” He dropped the bottle to the stage, then began to strum, bobbing his head and bouncing his knee as the crowd quieted.
The first song he chose was a popular one the band often played together, but even without them, and Everett singing at a slower pace, it was nothing short of chilling.
His ability to take a more upbeat rock-infused song with rivets of pop and turn it into a haunting, bluesy ballad had my mouth drying and my hand reaching blindly for my soda.
Lemon-scented rum,
In the barrel of a drum
We’re brewing dreams
And I’d invite you because I kinda like you,
But I’m all tied up
In this feeling swinging from the ceiling
In my beat-up truck
Oh, we’re like lovers, you and I,
But it’s only for a night,
Because I’m wasted air
Sorry, there’s no encore even if you want more,
Because I’m wasted, yeah
And I dare you, I honestly do, to find me here
Where the rooms are tight and the moon glows bright,
Let’s get wasted there
Cherry-flavored pie
Shaped like a star in the sky
We’re flying high
And I’d invite you because I really like you,
But I’m all shook up
High on this feeling that keeps on leaving
Like I give a fuck
Oh, we’re like lovers you and I,
But it’s only for a night, because I’m wasted air
Sorry, there’s no encore, even if you want more,
Because I’m wasted, yeah
And I dare you, I honestly do, to find me here
Oh, where the rooms are tight and the moon glows bright,
Let’s get wasted there
Yeah, get wasted there…
With his eyes closed, lips hugging the mic and thick fingers caressing guitar strings, he drowned the entire room with that hypnotizing, magnetic, gravel-stained timbre.
Watching Everett Taylor sing was an indescribable experience. One that took you right out of this world and set you in one where he only existed with you. It used to bother me that other people, that the entire world would get to experience that.
Now it bothered me that not many would.
He rolled through the band’s most popular songs, adding his own perks to suit the lack of instruments, and even sang some new songs I’d never heard before.
Our skin, it heats
Without a moment between the sheets
Our eyes, they glow
Even without a trace of hope
Aren’t you hungry, baby
Do you feel it gnawing
At your chest
Can you feel it clawing
So fucking restless
Only fucking you
Can sate this appetite
That keeps me awake
Oh, every day and night
So wrap me up real tight
In fake promises
As we forever wait
For a day too late
Our minds they tangle
Wondering dreaming
Hoping from every angle
And our hearts they’ll break
Over and over
Because without a beginning
There is no closure
But aren’t you hungry, baby
Do you feel it knocking
On your pretty little soul
Do you feel the sting as it pricks your skin
So out of control
Only fucking you
Can sate this appetite
That keeps me awake
Oh, every day and night
So wrap me up real tight
In fake promises
As we forever wait
For a day too late
They say no
And we scream yes
There’s no middle ground
In this beautiful mess
But even if you don’t
I swear I’ll wait and I’ll wait
Yeah, oh I’ll wait…
Because only fucking you
Can sate this appetite
That keeps me awake
Oh, every damn day and night
So wrap me up real tight
In fake promises
As we forever wait
For a day too late
Always and always and always
Just a day too late
Shaken to the point of tingling, I felt my tongue dry and moisture pool behind my eyes.
His mind-clearing voice, accompanied by the smile he sent my way as he let the last notes echo into the mostly silent bar, had heat unfurling in my stomach.
And staring at those soul-infused green eyes, I forced myself to accept that no matter my resolve, or his own to better himself, nothing had really changed. Like the sun and the moon, we’d always revolve around one another, doomed to dance on opposing sides of fate.
After chatting with a guy who looked to be playing next, he joined me at the bar again but didn’t order anything.
“So, good enough for you to see my new digs?”
I laughed, nodding, then he helped me down from the stool. My hand stayed clasped with his as he led me behind the bar and up a flight of steep wooden stairs.
We passed what looked to be a staff room, a storeroom, and a bathroom before reaching the end of the narrow hall.
Pulling out a set of keys, he unlocked the door. It squeaked as it swung open, and Everett gestured for me to go in.
Moving carefully over the scuffed, creaking wood floor, I peered around the tiny room, taking note of how little there was inside. Not that you could fit much. It was almost as small as my bedroom back home.
A twin bed sat pressed into the corner. A window with dirt-laced sheer curtains alongside it gave a view of the main street that cut through town below. A dusty set of shelves leaned by the far wall with a small TV, guitar picks, and various notebooks and pens atop it.
On the wall near the door was a small sink and a countertop that housed a tea kettle and white microwave. “Do you use the staff bathroom?”
Everett placed his guitar by the nightstand, then grabbed the cigarettes that’d been lying next to a framed photo and dug one out of the pack. “Yeah, it’s not so bad. Has a lock.”
I nodded, watching him sandwich one end of the smoke between those pillowed lips, then cast the other aflame.
He tossed the lighter down onto the scratched wood, the floor groaning as he walked to the end of the bed to open the window.
The photo frame pulled and stole my attention, and I moved closer to the bed, my butt bouncing on the unexpectedly springy mattress when I sat down and caught sight of whose picture was tucked behind the sheet of glass.
Mine.
I was seventeen, and judging by the creases that lined the image of my face, he’d clearly stolen it from a yearbook and had it folded up. “Sneaky.”
“I had to,” he said, so casual. “It’s lived in my wallet the whole time we were away.” Smoke encased his tentative question. “That freak you out?”
Did it? It surprised me, sure, but… “No.”
Quiet settled, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. At least, it wasn’t for a minute. “You still think about him?”
Instantly knowing who he was referring to, I thought about how to answer that. Everett had been here, doting, waiting.
As much as I no longer wanted to cut him open with words the way he’d done me, I still had to be honest. “I do.”
Everett said nothing, the crackling sound of him inhaling tobacco filling the room.
“But I don’t think he’s coming back.”
He made a low sound in his throat, then dropped the cigarette into an empty Coke bottle by the window. “Well, I didn’t think I would either.”
My smile was grim, my tattered heart beating faster at the thought of Aiden showing up, telling me he was sorry for running, and making it all better. As only he could do. It’d been over two months since I’d watched him snap that ring box closed, then drive out of my life.
The sound, the sight—it was still all so clear.
I’d like to blame it all on Everett, but that wouldn’t be fair. Falling for two men might’ve been out of my control, but how I handled the love I felt for them was entirely up to me.
I released a sigh that rattled my lungs.
“I can’t lie. I’m glad.” Everett dropped to the bed, then fell back, the muscles in his arms contracting as he slid them behind his head to stare up at me. “I’m glad he’s gone, but I’m sorry he’s hurt you. More than that…” He reached for my hand, and I let him take it, let him wind our fingers together. “I’m sorry I ever left you in a position where someone else could swoop in and have you, only to end up hurting you too.”
“Swoop in?” The calluses on his fingers tickled.
“Yeah. You’re mine. I’ve already told you that.” He graced me with a sad smile. “It’s my fault you doubted me enough to forget.”
My breathing thickened, and I tugged my hand from his. It fell to the bed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“What do you want to talk about then?” There was no anger in his voice, just curiosity.
“Nothing.” I stood, walking to the door. “I should head home.”
He sat up and grabbed his keys. “You’re not walking by yourself in the dark.”
The night air was tepid, the streets quieting down as we weaved through town to the residential streets that surrounded it.
