So Screwed

by Melissa Marino

  “So you’re supposed to be feeling bad for picking a career you love? Something you feel passionate about? That’s bullshit.”

  “It is, but it also is what it is. And as much as I’d like to blame it all on a stupid career decision that’s not all of it. They are right,” I said.

  “Well, I don’t think they are. They should support you no matter what.”

  “They do. Kind of. I mean, it’s not like I’m an outcast, but most of it was my doing.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re taking the blame.”

  “Maybe I’m the one to blame. I was the one that stole my dad’s Mercedes when I was seventeen, crashed and totaled it. I was the one who got caught cheating on my SATs, couldn’t graduate with my class, and had to go to summer school. I was the one who almost flunked out of college after two semesters because I was partying too much. I was the one who drained my trust fund when I turned twenty-one by gambling and ended up owing a huge debt. Who do you think paid for that?” My voice had raised as I was talking, and I hadn’t noticed until the last of it was out. “Sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be.”

  But I was. There would be time for her to understand family dynamics and for me to explain how different I was now. I was going to leave it all in the past—all the screwing around and shit.

  “I’m the one that’s sorry,” she said.

  “What the hell for?”

  “You’ve been taking me out to such nice places, and it didn’t occur to me that on a bartender’s salary, it might’ve been tight. I’m sure—”

  I laughed. “I’m not destitute. I can pay for dates.”

  Her head tilted to the side, her expression confused. “How are you affording the bar then, too?”

  I shrugged. “I’m good at playing cards and shit for some extra money on the side. Plus, WET is more profitable than people realize. The clientele lends to that.”

  “You have your hands in all kinds of things don’t you, handsome?”

  Her eyebrows raised, and I knew she was questioning everything that was coming at her.

  I hated holding back, keeping things from her. She didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t know the truth. I couldn’t stand the thought of her looking at me the way my father and Aaron do.

  I held my hand against the side of her face, rubbing my thumb across her cheek. Tension was there. The doubt.

  “Am I right to assume that this is everything you’ve been keeping from me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “Except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I told Aaron I had doubts about moving there and managing the new bar. That was originally what I was supposed to do.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  I lifted her chin with one finger and bent my head, kissing her. “You. That’s why. Something’s happening here, Evelyn. You’re here.”

  “Are you insane?” she screeched. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Okay. Not the reaction I expected, but I’ll go with it.”

  “We just started this thing. No one is making life choices or anything for anyone. I’m going to Charleston in a few months, and what happens then?”

  “That’s only for a few months,” I said.

  “But anything could come up at any time,” she said, sitting up. She took the sheet along with her, wrapping it around her as if this conversation was now a place to find her modesty. “What if you got a teaching job out of state or what if Bridget wanted me to handle the Charleston office full-time? I mean, I don’t think either of us should be thinking about giving anything up for someone they just started dating. I mean, look at Aaron and Callie. They went into stuff all rushy-rushy, and it all blew up in their face. I don’t think we should make that same mistake, not that I think we are, but it’s something to consider. And that doesn’t mean I’m not totally into our thing and not into you. I’m super into you. I’m probably more into you than I should be, but…”

  She paused to take a breath, and I took advantage of the moment by letting out a laugh I was holding in. She was freaking out. She was dude freaking out, reacting as if she was a guy and the girl got too clingy.

  “Relax,” I said, pulling her back to me and tucking her back into my side. “We aren’t Aaron and Callie. They didn’t tell each other shit, and that was what blew up in their face. I’m being honest, and if that doesn’t get me what I want, then it wasn’t meant to be. So chill out, beautiful.”

  Her body began to relax again, her hands unclenched and rested back on my chest. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I don’t want you to be sorry for anything you’re thinking, but I also don’t want you freaking out over nothing. No one is getting married or declaring the l word.”

  She giggled and pressed her lips to my chest before biting it.

  “Ouch,” I said. I rubbed my hand over the bitten area. “What was that for?”

  “For being so on my level. From here on out, it shall be called the l word.”

  “Now that we have that covered, I’m done with all the serious talk,” I said. I wrapped my arms around her and rolled her underneath me. “Now,” I said, kissing her neck. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  I was a pathetic fuck and had no idea what was happening to me. All I knew was it was close to seven a.m. and I was staring at Evelyn, watching her sleep. In fact, I’d been up all night. After our round two, for which I win the award for holding out the longest and until she came three times, we both gave in to exhaustion. I don’t know who drifted into sleep first, but I woke up an hour later. I could’ve blamed it on bartender hours and my internal clock always being messed up. But it was more than that and I knew it.

  I didn’t want to wake her, so I ended up picking up the book that was on her nightstand and started reading it. It was this filthy romance novel, which was a genre I never read, but was surprisingly good. I was getting to the part where they were finally going to start banging when Evelyn stirred next to me. She was curled up on her side, no doubt used to sleeping alone, before she rolled toward me.

  Her eyes fluttered open and a sleepy smile spread across her face. “Hi,” she said.

  “Morning,” I said. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she said, stretching. “You?”

  I set the book down on my bare chest, laid open so I wouldn’t lose my page. “Not bad.”

  She glanced at the book cover and raised her eyebrows at me. “I think you’re a liar, and you’re reading that? A romance novel?”

  “Good literature isn’t defined by such basic definitions, Evelyn,” I said. “Plus, they’re about to do it, so I’m committed.”

  She scooted close, the lingering scent of her perfume from the day before following her. She lifted my arm and wrapped it around her shoulder so she could snuggle in. “You know,” she said, reaching under the blanket. “I’ve read that part already. I could show you how it went…” She paused, running her finger down my treasure trail, stopping at the top of my boxers. “…Down.”

  I groaned at her touch, the way the tips of her fingers ran just beneath the elastic of my boxers, the whole area oddly sensitive. Her hair was wild, and leftover makeup was smudged under her eyes.

  “Oh,” she said, sitting up. “I probably look a mess. Let me go take a quick shower.”

  She tried to slip out of bed, but I pulled her back, the book on my chest falling to my side. “Nope. You look perfect.”

  She glanced at me over her shoulder and shook her head. “Smooth as a motherfucker, as always, and also full of shit.”

  Okay. There was a little raccoon-eye shit going on, but seeing her so…herself really was beautiful.

  “Stay there, handsome,” she said. She rolled to the edge of the bed and got out. Completely naked, and for only me to watch, her hips swayed as she headed into the bathroom.

  Leaning back with my hands behind my head, I considered patting my own back. Tha
t girl.

  All. Mine.

  With that, an uneasiness brewed inside my gut, followed by a heated rage that moved throughout my body, when the realization of us being apart for three months hit me. The thought of her gone was one thing, but it was an entirely different thing to imagine who’d be sniffing around her when I wasn’t around. My hand pulled at the back of my hair before I roughly ran it across my neck and beard. She captivated everyone around her—it wasn’t only how gorgeous she was. She…fucking radiated something that made people take notice. I noticed and saw every other dude take notice whenever we were out.

  I was freaking the hell out. First it was her last night and now it was me. It was how adult relationships were supposed to work, I guess. Only one person gets to melt down at a time.

  And as quickly as it hit me, it was gone.

  I heard the water running in the bathroom and knew I had a choice. Either wait in bed so I could give in to morning sex, which was always so good when you’re waking up, but I’d been awake for hours. Hungry. Horny, too, but hungry a tad more. Or I could’ve gotten up and made breakfast. I shook my head and considered my deviant outlook.

  Subsistence first. Dick second.

  As I headed into the kitchen and checked out her fridge, I understood why she could eat like a linebacker but still have such a tight body. There was barely anything in it. I was lazy about grocery shopping, too, but my mom was always dropping leftovers or something off. She was like a magical fairy, dropping off meat loaf and lasagna—it being there when I got home.

  Pickings were slim, and I was also no Iron Chef, so with something that resembled bread, eggs, and some coffee creamer, I decided to make French toast. If there ever was a doubt in my mind that she was the bachelor female equivalent to me, it became crystal clear after going through her kitchen. She had exactly one small frying pan that appeared to be from biblical times and a spatula that resembled a chewed cat toy.

  I made do with what she had, and by the time she came into the kitchen, to my disappointment in a T-shirt and cotton shorts, the first slices of French toast were on the thing that used to resemble a frying pan.

  She wrapped her arms around my waist from behind me, pressing a kiss to my back. “Well, look at you.”

  “Christ, Evelyn. We need to go to Williams-Sonoma or some shit. Where did you get this?” I asked, holding up a plastic fork. “Delilah’s play kitchen?”

  Her fingers poked at my side, tickling me. “Don’t judge my utensils.”

  I flipped the French toast and turned around to face her. “Oh, that’s not the only thing I’m judging. Why the hell do you have Steak-umms in your freezer?”

  “Um. Because they’re good and sometimes I crave a hundred percent real beef.”

  “The beef of what? Wait. Don’t answer that. I won’t even mention the Spam I found that expired somewhere around the year I was born.”

  “Spam expires?” she asked, confused. “Huh? Who knew?”

  “If you weren’t so hot, I’d be revolted.”

  “Speaking of the year you were born, when’s your birthday?” she asked.

  “August twenty-fourth.”

  “Shut up!” she said, slapping my arm. “It is not!”

  “I will not, and yes, it is. Do you always have to hit? When’s yours?”

  “August twenty-fourth.”

  “No way,” I said, turning back around to the stove. “There’s no way.”

  “Do you want to see my driver’s license?”

  “Nineteen ninety-one?”

  “Holy shit, Abel.”

  What were the chances? I was never good at math or statistics, but the probability of my girlfriend and me sharing the same birthday had to be really fucking slim.

  I slid the French toast onto a paper plate. I tore the top open of a takeout syrup pack I found in the drawer of her refrigerator and drizzled it across the top of it.

  “Come here, beautiful,” I said, folding a piece in half because I was sure there wasn’t another plastic fork.

  I held it out for her, and she took a bite. She nodded her head in approval. “Yum. Thank you,” she said before taking in one more.

  I popped the rest of it in my mouth, making a mess of the syrup running out the edge of it. “Shit,” I said looking to wipe my hands on something. “Of course, you don’t have paper towels or—”

  I was cut off by her taking my fingers and bringing them to her mouth. She licked at the tops before sliding her mouth slowly down each of them.

  I grabbed the plate. “Get your ass back in bed,” I said.

  “I can’t. I have to get to work.”

  I glanced at the time on the microwave. She did have to get going, but I was going to bring out my best persuasive eyes to get a few extra minutes.

  “You know,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “I think your car has a flat tire. It’s too bad you’ll be an hour or so late until you can get it fixed.”

  “Or I can take the bus.”

  She smirked as she licked her own fingers, pretending she wasn’t considering it. I could see the wheels turning, but her being her, she wasn’t going to give in easily.

  I pouted, turning my eyes down to the floor. “Please?” I begged before gradually raising my eyes back up to hers.

  She shook her head, her grin turning to laughter. “Forty-five minutes, handsome.”

  I chased her back to the bedroom and plopped back on the bed. She climbed on top of me, straddling my lap.

  “So, I got a question,” I said.

  “And I have an answer.”

  “This…thing,” I said, waving my finger between us. “We aren’t seeing other people. You’re mine, right?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. I’m yours.”

  “And vice versa?”

  “For sure. You’re my guy.”

  “So, with you away for three months, we won’t be seeing anyone else then, either, right?”

  She squirmed and pulled back slightly, her need for space becoming apparent again. I wanted to grab her, tell her, Don’t move. Don’t try to put distance here because in a couple of months we’ll have a thousand miles separating us.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked. “Three months is a long time. In fact, we’d be only dating the same amount of time when I leave for Charleston.”

  This entire dialogue made me further concerned. I knew what I wanted, but she wasn’t putting out there what she did. If this was all or nothing, I’d need to hear that from her.

  I brushed a hair off her forehead, placing it next to her face. “I asked you first, beautiful.”

  She looked into my eyes with strong intent. What she needed in physical space was being replaced with the desire to make herself verbally clear. “Can you be faithful?” she asked.

  “Can you?”

  Her stare turned hard and I wondered if she was angry. She shouldn’t have been. This was covered territory. Maybe it wasn’t politically correct to put us on equal playing fields, but at least it was honest.

  When a smile lifted from her lips, and her glare softened, I assumed she wasn’t mad. We were going to be champion debaters. The more she grinned, the more my ability to hold my ground crumbled.

  She had me.

  She knew it.

  “Yes, I can,” I said, holding out my pinkie finger to her.

  She crossed her pinkie with mine. “Me, too. Promise.”

  “Promise.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  EVELYN—

  The heat began creeping in, one day more than the next in the month of May, until all at once we were drowning in it. It was how Chicago summers went. This one was no different.

  June.

  July.

  August.

  Each brought their game, showing the world the blazing sun, and steamy nights were made for the most beautiful city in the world. Like a slow-motion run caught in between two worlds, my life stretched between sun and moon.

  It was that heat, though. It brought the fire. The fi
re of earth and the one that circled Abel and me. It breathed into us, and with the breeze of every passing day, the flames fanned out more. The fear of getting burned didn’t distract us. No. It only invited us closer.

  The dread of me leaving clouded moments, but it wasn’t something we discussed. It was like an approaching storm. We knew it was there and knew it was coming. We just didn’t know how bad it would be.

  Wedding season was in full swing, and work was crazy busy. Weekdays were spent calming nervous brides, and weekends were spent running around, making sure that every detail was executed perfectly. My career was under the microscope while my personal life was in such a high gear that most days I ran on adrenaline. It wasn’t a terrible place to be.

  I also couldn’t keep myself away from Abel for more than a day and vice versa. The night before our birthday, a Saturday evening wedding partied until well past one a.m. My mind was exhausted, but my heart and body needed my fix.

  “Hey there, Evelyn,” Tyler said, unhooking the velvet rope and opening the path inside to WET. “Nightcap?”

  “Yes. Desperately. I had a flower girl puke on the bride’s shoes during pre-ceremony pictures and had to run around the North Side looking for new but the exact same style of Jimmy Choos.”

  “Well, your guy is here, and I’m sure he’ll hook you right up.”

  “Thanks, Tyler.”

  Entering the darkened space, the dwindling crowd finishing their last-call drinks, my eyes scanned the bar, looking for Abel. He was at the far end, leaned across the bar, talking with a couple. His smile, his animated voice, made every person he was near feel special. From far away, I could tell they were completely taken with him.

  My aching feet walked me toward him at the same moment his head turned to see me. He straightened his body, winked, and smiled at me. Dimples so very deep. It didn’t matter how many times I’d seen it. My heart still reacted the same—