PMU Boxset 2

by MacMillan, Jerica

  She held up her hands, her face repentant. “I’m sorry. I am,” she repeated when he gave her a doubtful look. “Thank you for helping me. I didn’t mean … Look, I’m just confused. Usually when I’m as bitchy to people as I have been to you, they steer clear, y’know? And here you are, still being nice to me—that last outburst aside—and I just don’t get it.”

  He sat back down, scrubbing his hands over his face, suddenly really fucking tired. “There’s nothing to get, Layla. I’m not a fucking asshole. And I’m not that shithead you were talking about earlier. Sorry to disappoint you when you thought you had me all figured out.”

  “I am sorry.” He almost didn’t hear her whisper. When he looked up, her arms were wrapped around herself, and she stared at the wall, blinking quickly. Dammit. Now he felt like a jackass.

  “Hey. It’s … fine. How about we make a deal?” He waited for her to face him. “Let’s start over. No preconceptions about each other. Just two people who have to work together on a World Lit project. We treat each other like normal human beings. Okay?”

  Her dark eyes examined him again, gauging his sincerity. He kept his face open and relaxed. Because this project was going to be horrible if they didn’t come to some kind of working agreement. He might’ve wanted to pick her up when he first saw her, but since she had absolutely zero interest in him, that feeling had passed. Mostly. Well, when she was being nice to him and not accusing him of being a diseased manwhore, he still thought she was pretty. But he wasn’t so much of a dumbass that he kept going after someone who was clearly uninterested. But was it too much to ask for her to be friendly? He didn’t think so.

  Finally, she nodded. “Okay. I think I can manage that.” She stuck out a hand. “Hi. I’m Layla.”

  He stood, slipping his palm against hers, her soft skin brushing against his calluses. “Hi. Evan. I’ve seen you around before, but never had a chance to meet you. I’m glad I finally did.”

  She opened her mouth, her eyes narrowing, but she stopped herself before she said whatever she’d been going to say. “Nice to meet you too.”

  He grinned. Before he could say anything else, the doctor came back. Evan resumed his seat in the chair by the wall.

  “Well, Layla, it doesn’t look like it’s broken. But you do have a pretty bad sprain. Keep up with the standard rest, ice, compression, and elevation. Once you get home, prop it up and ice it for twenty minutes. Try to do it at least once more before bed. And then several times throughout the day tomorrow. See how it feels after that, and if you need to, you can get an ankle brace and some crutches. Stay off it as much as possible for the next few days, and go slow after that. It’ll take a while to heal.” The doctor offered his hand to each of them with a nod. “The nurse will be in with the papers in a minute. Sit tight, and we’ll have you out of here shortly.”

  Layla nodded, sitting up and moving the blankets off her legs. “Thank you.”

  Evan stood when the doctor left, going to Layla’s side, offering his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, before accepting his help moving to the edge of the bed. She winced as her right foot slid into her shoe.

  He had an almost overwhelming urge to comfort her in some way, but he managed to stop himself from reaching out to touch her shoulder or stroke her hair. They’d barely reached a tentative truce. Even though she accepted his help, that didn’t mean she’d accept his comfort. He cleared his throat, looking through the curtain to see if he could spot the nurse. “Do you have ibuprofen at home? You should take some when you get there.”

  Her nose wrinkled, and she made a funny face. “Yeah. I think I have some.”

  Crossing his arms, he regarded her as she sat back, propping herself up on her hands. “What was that face for?”

  She shrugged, tilting her head to one side. “I don’t usually like taking stuff. But it hurts bad enough that I’ll make an exception.”

  It was his turn to give her a funny look, but he let it go. The nurse came in with a wheelchair and a handful of papers that she handed to Layla. “Here are all your papers. It just describes what we did.” She flipped a few pages. “And here’s the doctor’s treatment recommendation. Got it?” She waited for a nod from Layla before helping her into the wheelchair, bending over to adjust the leg and footrests before taking her place behind it. “Alright, let’s get you out of here. Sound good?”

  “Yes,” Layla said, her voice full of enthusiastic relief.

  Evan couldn’t help smiling as he followed along behind. He knew that feeling well. And after her afternoon on the trail and spending hours at the ER, he bet she wanted to get home and rest. Well, he’d make sure she did that. And he’d get her car so she’d have one less thing to worry about.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Layla dreaded trying to get up the stairs to her apartment. Shit. Why did she have to go and hurt her ankle? What was supposed to be a nice walk in the sunshine had turned into a disaster. She should’ve just stayed home and done homework. Dammit. Most of her homework was in her car. Which was still back at the parking lot.

  “Are you okay?” The streetlights cast Evan’s face in relief while they waited at a stoplight. The long shadows made it hard to decipher his expression.

  “Yeah. No. I don’t know. Everything’s screwed up about today.”

  The light turned green, and Evan made a smooth left turn. “Yeah. You groaned, so I wondered if you were in a lot of pain.”

  She’d groaned? Sheez. “Well, my ankle hurts pretty bad, yeah, but it’s more that I realized most of the books I need to read are in my car still.”

  “Oh. Well, I can help there. We’ll get you home, and I’ll go get your car. I already texted my roommate about going with me.”

  Her eyebrows inched up her forehead. “You’re just a full-service knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”

  His low chuckle did something to her. Something that made her insides warm and gooey. This wasn’t a feeling she was used to. She pushed it away to deal with later, focusing on giving him directions to her apartment.

  When he parked and killed the engine, he glanced from her to the stairs. “You’re on the second floor, aren’t you.” It should’ve been a question, but it was a statement.

  “Yeah.” Her voice came out softer and more full of trepidation than she meant for it to. She cleared her throat and repeated, “Yeah,” more firmly. “It’s okay. I can make it.”

  Evan scoffed, a derisive noise deep in his throat. Before she could respond, he was out of the car and pulling her door open. Leaning in, he glared down at her. “What’s it gonna be—piggyback again or a fireman’s carry?”

  She let out a squeak. Now he’d reduced her to squeaking? What the hell was going on with her? Shaking her head, she forced herself to sound indignant. “Excuse me?”

  He smirked. “You and I both know you can’t make it up those stairs. Not before midnight, anyway. So I’m going to carry you again. Are you going to climb on my back and let me? Or do I have to throw you over my shoulder?”

  Narrowing her eyes at him, she forced herself not to squeak again. But when he reached for her, she scrambled back. “Okay! Okay! I’ll let you carry me!”

  She didn’t really appreciate the smug quality of his smile, but was grateful for his help getting out of the car so she could get on his back. When they arrived at the landing in front of her door, he took a second before letting go of her legs, letting her slide down his back, like he was reluctant to release his hold on her.

  But her keys were in her pocket, and she couldn’t dig them out while clinging to him like a baby monkey. He held onto her arm, helping her half-hobble, half-hop inside to the couch. At least she didn’t have dirty laundry all over her living room. Living alone, she didn’t feel the need to keep the main room as tidy as she had with a roommate. But she’d picked up recently, so thank God she didn’t need to be embarrassed about that on top of everything else.

  Having Evan in her space felt … strange. He dominated her tiny living
room, looming over her as he watched her get settled on the couch, helping pile up throw pillows and a blanket to keep her foot elevated.

  “Do you have an ice pack? Or should I fill a bag with ice?” he asked, the picture of efficiency, not a lingering heated look or flirty smile in sight.

  That should be a relief, but for some stupid reason, it made her stomach feel lined with ice. She swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling and forced herself to answer his question. “Yeah. There’s an ice pack in the freezer door.”

  With a nod, he went around the couch to the little galley kitchen. The sound of the freezer door opening and closing reached her, followed by drawers sliding open and more rummaging. What was he doing?

  Before she could ask him, he came back in, meeting her eyes as she watched him over the back of the couch. He had a kitchen towel in one hand and the ice pack in the other. He draped the towel over her bare ankle before gently settling the ice pack on the affected side. She hissed at the pain of having it jostled even that little bit as well as at the cold from the ice pack.

  Evan stood, rubbing his hands together. “Okay. Leave that on for twenty minutes. Where’d you put your keys?” He glanced around at the papers and books scattered on the coffee table. Well, she’d picked up her clothes yesterday and done laundry. Her usual homework clutter still covered everything.

  Holding out her hand, she gave him her keys. Having him or his roommate drive her car made her uncomfortable, but she didn’t have much choice given the situation. She swallowed back her words of caution and irritation, since Evan was being so nice and didn’t deserve her bitchiness. She still couldn’t fathom why he was being this nice to her. But at this point she couldn’t afford to question it too closely. She needed his help.

  His fingers brushed her palm as he took the keys, sending a zing of awareness down her arm. Her eyes darted up, clashing with his. He stood frozen, his hand holding her keys hovering over her still-outstretched palm, his sapphire blue eyes intent on her.

  But he broke the moment first, pulling the keys into his palm, looking away and clearing his throat. Had he felt the same thing? She couldn’t be sure from his reaction, but maybe so. What did that even mean?

  He cleared his throat again. “I’ll, uh—I’ll go meet Carter and get your car. You can text me what you need out of your car, and I’ll bring it up with your keys when I’m back.”

  “Oh, um. Why don’t I just write it down before you go?” She leaned over and reached for one of her notebooks, catching it with her fingertips and sliding it closer.

  Evan grabbed a pen and handed it to her, his brows wrinkled. “Okay. Why not just text me?”

  “It’s easier this way. Trust me.” She kept her voice light and dismissive, not wanting to admit that she had a crappy, old flip phone, and it would take a billion years to text a list of things to him with it. She felt his eyes on her, but refused to look up, focusing on writing out what she needed from her car instead. It was mostly books, but they weren’t all neatly collected in a backpack. And she didn’t need all the books from her car. Not tonight anyway.

  Jotting down one last title, she tore off the paper and held it out between her fingers, careful that their hands didn’t have to touch again. Spending so much time with him was making her feel weird. She wanted to examine what this meant, and she needed him to go so she could do that.

  He plucked the paper from her fingers, scanned the list, and then folded it to tuck in his pocket. “Alright. I’ll be back in a while. Make sure not to leave the ice on for too long.”

  “I won’t”

  And with that, he was gone. She heard the key scraping in the deadbolt, locking her in. That was … sweet? Unexpected. But nice. It showed a level of concern that brought that warm feeling back again. And him going to get her car for her. She didn’t even know what to make of that.

  She’d expect that from Alyssa. Or even Darren, Alyssa’s husband. But Evan? He barely knew her. Even though they’d decided to start over on more friendly terms, that didn’t mean they were actually friends, did it? Maybe he thought so.

  Huh. She’d have to think about that, too.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Coop!”

  Elena bounded up to him, throwing her arms around him, causing him to stumble back a step from her unexpected exuberance as he caught her against him. He looked up to see Carter smiling indulgently at his girlfriend. They’d been back together for about a month now, and Carter was happier than Evan had ever seen him. Carter deserved to be happy. He was the best guy that Evan knew. And Carter had been moody as fuck while he and Elena had been broken up.

  Evan pulled back from Elena, grinning down at her. “You coming along for the ride?”

  “Of course! What else am I gonna do? Hang out at your place by myself?” She made a derisive noise and opened the passenger door of Carter’s car, climbing in the front seat before Evan could say anything.

  “Hey! I was planning on riding shotgun.”

  She poked her head back out of the open door. “Oh, really?” All feigned innocence. “I had no idea. Sorry.” She dragged out the last word. Definitely not sorry.

  With a sigh and a shake of his head, Evan resigned himself to being folded in half to sit in the back seat. Carter came up behind him, chuckling. “Sorry, man. You snooze, you lose. Especially where Elena is concerned.”

  Evan laughed too. He’d spent enough time with Elena to know how she was. Well, how she was now, since she’d been seeing a therapist. That had helped turn her back into the outspoken and outgoing person he’d met a year ago at a club. They’d danced, he’d thought she was hot, but he’d been too preoccupied with what he’d seen as Matt Schwartz poaching the girl he’d originally been interested in. He’d had no idea at the time that Hannah and Matt had so much history. Carter had actually gotten a date with Hannah once, but she’d been in love with Matt all along. Neither Evan nor Carter had stood a chance.

  Which for Carter had worked out fine. Once he’d met Elena, Hannah’s best friend, he’d been a goner. And now that the football season was over and Evan spent more time at home watching Carter and Elena’s relationship unfold, he felt a sort of longing to have that too. Which was weird. He hadn’t wanted a relationship in a long time. Not since his freshman year.

  He’d dated this girl whose life was a complete disaster, and he wanted to help her. Which hadn’t seemed like a problem until his coach had chewed him out for slacking off in practice and making mistakes that cost them a game. Coach Hanson had told him to get his head out of his ass and let his girlfriend handle her own shit or he’d sit on the bench for the rest of the season. After that, he’d stopped jumping at her every call, and she’d gotten pissed and dumped him. He hadn’t been all that upset about it. It had been a relief to not have that kind of drama dragging him down all the time. So he’d decided he was just going to have fun. No drama. No bullshit. No strings.

  That had been fine for the last few years. But even some of the die-hard players that he’d looked up to were settling down. Lance Kane got married, for Christ’s sake. And even Chris Watkins had a serious girlfriend. Now Daniel Carter. Although that was less of a surprise. Carter had never really gone for no-strings sex. He liked strings. But there was something about the way he and Elena were together that seemed different than Carter’s past girlfriends. Evan couldn’t put his finger on what that was, but he noticed it all the same.

  And it looked like something he never knew he wanted.

  Shaking off those thoughts, he climbed into the backseat, bitching about how cramped he was, a little bit serious, but mostly just because that was how he and Elena were with each other. His grumping provoked laughter from Elena, which made Carter smile as Elena made comments like, “Man, there’s sooo much legroom up here. I love how I can stretch my legs out as far as they’ll go. It’s so comfortable.”

  “Watch it. I’ll figure out a way to get you back,” he threatened. Playfully, but not really.

  Carter caught his eye
in the rearview mirror. “Hey, now. No revenge plots on my girlfriend.”

  Evan sat back as far as he could, crossing his arms. “I can’t make any promises.”

  “Ooooh,” Elena put in. “I’m sooo scared.”

  He thumped a knee into the back of her seat.

  “Hey!”

  “Oops. My bad.”

  She turned and glared at him through narrowed eyes. He gave her his most charming smile in return. Laughing, her face relaxed, and she turned back around. But she quit commenting about all her legroom. They arrived at the trailhead parking lot a few minutes later, and Evan climbed out of the backseat, grateful to be able to stretch his legs.

  He chuckled when he climbed into Layla’s beat-up old Chevy with its threadbare upholstery and cracked vinyl piping around the edges of the seats. But it started without a problem. The passenger seat had a pile of books and papers on it, and a glance at the back seat showed more of the same. Apparently she used her car as a sort of mobile study space. He made quick work of adjusting the mirrors and the seat before backing out, the dim headlights cutting through the night.

  Back at her apartment complex, he parked in the spot marked with Layla’s apartment number. He figured he’d run up and drop off Layla’s keys before hopping back in Carter’s car. Maybe he could convince Elena to let him have the front seat. Not likely. But when he climbed out of Layla’s car, Carter and Elena were waiting for him.