“Not to mention gorgeous!” someone added in the background.
“Shut up Paul. You want me to kick your ass?” Evan threatened.
“Thanks, Evan,” I said.
“For what?”
“For everything,” I said with a shrug as I stood from the bed and felt the emptiness of the place without him.
“Thank you,” he answered. “I had the most amazing day with you.”
“Of course,”
“Promise me something?”
“Anything,” I replied.
“You’ll start to really write again.”
It felt like goodbye…and I felt the glass of my heart shattering.
“I promise,” I whispered.
“I’ve got to catch the plane, but I promise we’ll talk soon.”
“Okay,” I replied, and wondered if it was a promise he could keep.
“Goodnight, Emma.”
“Goodnight, Evan,” I whispered, and I heard the background noise of the airport as he listened to my breathing, then there was nothing.
Chapter 3
The next month went by in a blur. It seemed my employer heard rumors I was associating with famous musicians and while they didn’t have proof, the paper suddenly noticed me. They were giving me assignments that weren’t high school sports, and were more prone to let me work on music-related articles: there had been an impromptu concert given at a local coffee house by a band I had never heard of, but was apparently popular, and then they sent me to meet with a local artist who’d just signed to a major label. Today I woke to find an email requesting that I go to the local music festival, Aphrodite’s Hymns, on the water. It had been sold out for weeks, so I wondered who they snubbed to give me a ticket. The editor probably hoped my rock star lover would be there, but I knew he was somewhere in Canada on tour. The invitation only served to remind me it had been a month since I had seen him and two weeks since I heard his real voice. We texted almost every day, but he was in so many different time zones that it seemed we always missed each other. It took days to have a five minute conversation about how our days were going.
“Earth to Emma,” Mark, my co-assignee said, waving his hand in my face. “You there?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, Mark. Where to next?”
He shrugged. “I have no clue. They have some special guest we need to meet.”
“Right,” I muttered more to myself than him as we made our way to the next stage.
I wasn’t a fan of crowds and this event was starting to get to me. There were people rubbing up against me and jostling my thousand dollar camera. Mark didn’t seem bothered by it as he plowed through the crowd in front of me, but then again, the only thing he had in his hands was a fifty dollar recorder that was the newspaper’s property. My camera had taken six months of slave labor and a month’s worth of rent to purchase.
“So who’s this special guest—will they be performing?” I called to Mark over the sound of the music.
“Not performing—they aren’t on the schedule. I don’t think Main even knows who it is. There was an anonymous tip,” he said, nodding towards my pocket. “Have you checked your mail today at all? Or are you too busy snapping pretty pictures?”
I rolled my eyes at him and dug out my phone. I was trying not to look at my phone every five seconds because it made envy run through me. I opened the email, but it said nothing besides we needed to meet with some musician at Concourse A.
“Well, that’s on the other side of the pier, right on the water,” I said, nodding over his shoulder through the thickening crowd.
“You go ahead, I need some funnel cake. I’ll meet you there later,” he replied, and from the look on his face I knew he was abandoning me. He had no plans to meet this mystery person and worse, he had no interest in doing his job by helping me.
“I guess I’m on my own,” I muttered to myself as I clicked on the world clocks icon. Wherever Evan was, it was somewhere in the early morning. I heaved a sigh and shoved the iPhone back into my pocket before heading to the meeting area.
I showed my press pass to the bouncer and was let behind the metal gates. “End of the pier.” He nodded over his shoulder past the blockades up to give the artists some privacy.
I heard the ringtone of Evan singing and fumbled for my phone, but when I looked down, his picture wasn’t on the screen; in fact the screen was black. I was going insane. I could still hear the music playing. Slipping past the blockade, I saw him. There he was playing a worn acoustic guitar as he sat on a stool framed by the backdrop of the ocean.
I froze as he looked up with a smile before sliding the guitar behind his back and standing. He had stopped singing, and despite the noise behind us all I could hear was the sound of the waves as they crashed over the wood of the pier. My body seemed to catch up before my brain, and I found myself running into his arms. I closed my eyes as I took in scent of his cologne, relishing the feeling of his arms holding me as he swung me around before setting me on the damp wood. The wind swirled my hair around us as his hands cradled my face; his forehead pressed against mine as he whispered, “I wasn’t dreaming…you really do exist.”
“I should be the one saying that,” I replied, breathless as I took in the intenseness of his eyes.
He looked like he hadn’t slept in a long time, for there were black circles under his eyes, and his black button-up was wrinkled from sitting. “I couldn’t take it anymore,” he admitted. “I needed physical proof.”
“Like what?” I asked, and his lips found mine.
“Your body against mine,” he whispered into my ear as he slipped his hands to the small of my back and pulled me waist closer to him.
I took a deep breath of the salt air and sighed. “How long do we have?”
“A week.”
My eyes widened and I pulled away. A week? A whole week? I had to be dreaming.
“I thought you were touring Canada?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’m all toured out right now.”
“Isn’t that unheard of and really bad publicity?”
“It’s fine—don’t worry about it.”
“Where are you staying?” I asked as we walked towards the end of the pier. I rolled up my jeans, slipped my flip flops off and dunked my toes in the cool water of the Atlantic.
“I hadn’t really thought it that far through. I’m sure I can find somewhere that has an open room,” he answered, following my example and slipping off his Converses.
“Seriously? There’s nowhere with open rooms right now—especially not with the festival in town!”
Evan cringed. “I’m sure I can find something at the casino.”
“You don’t seem thrilled with that idea.”
“Place is filled with smoke—it permeates everything.”
I swirled my feet in the water before putting my head on his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’d be interested, but you could stay at my place.”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?”
“One date and you’re staying at my place? Yeah, normal circumstances would say it is…but being who you are it’s not like we can date like normal people do.” I stopped myself as I thought of how many assumptions I had made with the statement. “I mean, not that we’re dating.”
He laughed and pulled me closer to him. “I thought we were.”
I let the breath I was holding out.
“Well, you still get the pull-out couch,” I informed him.
I felt his shoulders rise as he shrugged. “That’s better than the casino and smelling like an ash tray just exploded for a week straight.”
Chapter 4
I had to admit the first night with Evan on my couch was hard. I yearned for him to stay wrapped in my blankets with me, but I let my brain tell me it was far too soon for that.
“I should probably go to the pull-out?” Evan had whispered into my ear as I fell asleep.
“Mhmm,” I replied, fighting my tongue asking to him to stay.
He leaned over my body, his hands gentle as he swept a piece of hair away from my chin and let his fingers caress my neck before letting his lips settle on my cheek.
“Goodnight, Emma,” his voice tickled my neck, and I felt my chest rise with a content sigh.
I could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed me once more before his weight shifted off of the bed.
“You suck,” I mumbled as I rolled over to look at him standing leaning against the doorframe, shirtless with his gorgeous tattoos scattered up his arm, across his chest and over his collarbone. His lips curled at their edges as he winked at me and turned into the living room.
I huffed before rolling onto my stomach and shoving my face in the pillows. My brain wouldn’t stop thinking of him in the next room alone, and I found myself tossing and turning at the thought. It didn’t matter how long I stared at the ceiling, if I had my head shoved in the pillow, or if I was turned away from the door. I still knew he was there and longed for him to be with me. I only managed to fall asleep when I heard his soft snores echoing into my room; somehow, knowing he had fallen asleep calmed my mind. I woke to Evan’s now much louder snores at the dimness of dawn, and I couldn’t help but giggle to myself as I crept into the living room. He was still asleep, hanging half-off the pull-out bed, limbs everywhere and his mouth open in a rather unattractive way. I stifled my laughter with my hand as I snuck into the kitchen to brew a pot of much needed coffee. Soon the sound of snores softened to nothing, and I felt Evan’s arms wrapping around my waist before his lips grazed my shoulder blade.
“Good morning,” he said into my ear as he kissed it.
“You have no idea,” I replied as I leaned my bare back against his soft chest.
“I think I do.”
I pulled away in reluctance to prepare our cups of coffee, and Evan watched with a sleepy smile on his face.
“I think you could use this,” I commented as I handed him his.
“Mhmm.” He smiled and smelled it before holding his free hand out to me. I let him lead me back into the bedroom where he opened the curtains to the French doors before pulling me into the bed with him. The coffee cup never left his hand, but he managed not to spill it as he wrapped his free arm around me and rested the cup on the side of him.
“When was the last time you took a vacation?” I asked as he pulled us back against the pillows.
“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever taken one,” he replied. “I’ve never really had a reason to stop working—driven to the point of being insane. I never realized how tired I was of everything until now.”
“Everything?”
I felt his chest rise against my shoulders as he sighed. “The media, the cameras, the fans—don’t get me wrong, I do love them…it’s just—”
“Overwhelming to worry about every move you make…to worry you’re going to run into someone every time you leave your house.”
“Yeah.” I felt his lips tender against the curve of my neck. “I love how you understand things no one else could.”
“I’m sure plenty of other people understand,” I reassured him.
“No, not like you do,” he answered as his fingers traced my arm, leaving a trail of tingling skin. “I can’t explain it…it’s in your voice…the way your presence fills a silent room,” he chuckled to himself; “the way you smile at me when you’re watching me play. You just get it.”
“I don’t want you to ever leave,” I whispered back, turning my head to kiss the stubble of his chin.
He smiled down at me. “I won’t ever leave for too long. I don’t think I could stay away.”
I cuddled further into the bed and rested my head against his chest as we watched the sunrise. It wasn’t long before his breaths deepened, and I knew he was asleep again. The next few days were spent in a similar way. We simply relaxed, enjoyed each other’s conversation and memorized the feeling of one another’s skin.
On the third morning Evan and I ventured out onto the beach framing the lake with our cups of coffee to watch the sunrise, but we remained there far after the sun made its way up into the sky. I knew we only had so much time together, but it felt good to just sit in his arms, my head against his chest, elbows resting on either of his legs, watching as the ducks dunked their heads in and out of the water. I enjoyed the fact we didn’t have to talk to enjoy each other’s presence. It wasn’t that we had nothing to talk about; we just didn’t need to talk.
I played with the once white laces of his frayed shoes and looked up at him. “Have you ever heard of flip flops?” I teased, breaking the silence.
He responded by slipping the shoes off and wiggling his toes into the sand. “Better?” I nodded and he slipped his chin into my shoulder, murmuring, “Would you answer something if I asked it?”
I laughed. “If you promise to go to the mall with me and get something other than those things.”
“If you answer the question I’ll dance around in a pink tutu for you.”
I turned to face him and watched as he rested his elbows on his knees, head in hands.
“This must be a serious question,” I guessed as I watched him looking at anything but me.
“Something’s been bugging me…” he began and his eyes met mine.
“Yes?”
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words—they’ll destroy my soul?” he repeated my quote, and I felt the heat rushing to my face.
“A pink tutu?” I teased and buried my own feet in the sand. I wished I could bury my head as well.
“You don’t have to answer…it’s just really been bugging me. I don’t want to push it,” he said as he reached forward and took my face in his hands. “But I keep hearing it repeated in my mind…I think I know what it means.” His eyes closed for a moment before he opened them and continued, “But I really don’t want to be right.”
I sighed as I searched for the words to explain. I didn’t really know how to tell him what happened to me. Maybe I just didn’t want to say it out loud. I looked past him to the home that my parents created to keep me safe from harm. I never even truly said it out loud to them, but they had seen the marks on my body. They had seen the change in who I was; they had realized they couldn’t save me from the damage once it had been done. I took a deep breath and let my eyes wander back to his face. His brows were drawn over his eyes and his forehead wrinkled with lines of worry. If I was going to let him in; I might as well let him all the way in.
“Bruises fade, but the words…they continue to sting long after their mark has left. Sometimes the words creep in and they are so much worse than the memories of the fists. I could battle through that physical pain—I could even fight back, but the words…those are what decimated me. It’s been years,” I explained, tipping my head back, “and sometimes, I still feel the doubt the words created so long ago…”
“I wish I could fix it,” Evan sighed.
I looked at him and smiled. “I think you already are.”
“How?”
I let my shoulders rise and fall. “You just are.”
“I want to make you forget it.”
“You do,” I replied as I let my head rest on my knees. “You really do.”
Evan bit his lip and looked up at the sky before letting his eyes meet mine again. I wondered if he was measuring how far he should go with his questions.
“Something else?” I gave him a small smile of encouragement, and his hands formed a steeple in front of his face.
“Yeah,” he replied, and I nodded for him to continue. “What happened?”
“I was a junior in high school when I met Eric…”I began. “He seemed popular…he was supposed to be a smart kid—and the star basketball player. I thought he wasn’t the typical jock because he was smart…The thing was, he wasn’t. He was manipulative. He had everyone eating out of his hands—I don’t know why I fell for it. I didn’t even really like him when we started ‘going out’, but I did it because I thought it was the cool thing to do.”
I shrugged. “I just fell deeper and deeper into the trap, and when he knew he had me deep enough, he started with the abuse…first it was words, and then somewhere in between he decided he wanted to teach me self-defense. I didn’t understand why I needed to protect myself…I didn’t see it was an excuse to beat the crap out of me. Then it got worse—the words and the ‘lessons’ started to combine…I don’t know how I didn’t see it happening. By the time he started hitting me I was already so damaged emotionally I think I thought I deserved it—that I’d done something to deserve it.”
“Like what?” Evan asked, and I noticed he was now leaning away from me with his hands buried deep in the sand. I could see the vein spiking up his wrist and his forearm, so I knew beneath the sand he was clenching his fists. His face had gone white, and his eyes suddenly looked a muddy brown instead of the green tinted gray they usually were.
I shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I just felt like it was my fault.”
He nodded, but his clenched jaw made me feel he didn’t understand.
My entire being—my heart, my mind and soul—felt empty as I talked about what happened for the first time ever. I’d never really told anyone. It was always easier that way and most people were too afraid to ask, even my own parents.
“What made you realize it was all wrong? What made you leave him?”
I could feel the heat building in my face, and the tears pricked at my eyes as I admitted, “I didn’t.”
I’d never forgiven myself. I should have left first, but in my weakness, I hadn’t.
“What do you mean?” Evan hunched forward now, a frown on his thin lips as his eyes darted over my face in an attempt to understand.
“He dumped me.”
Evan’s breathing seemed to stop for a moment as he stared at me, and I closed my eyes to compose myself. I feared his judgment, but as I felt his hands folding over my own and his lips settling on my forehead, I knew there would be none. He let the breath out, and I looked up at him.
“You would have.”
Love Exactly Page 3