I can feel Evan come up behind me. His energy is unmistakable and I can smell his signature cologne. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “I thought I might find you here.”
I down the last sip of my drink.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks.
I nod.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a twenty. “How much was the drink?”
I shrug.
He pulls out another twenty and throws the two bills on the bar. “That should cover it. Come on.”
Evan grabs my elbow to help me down from the barstool as the bartender grabs the twenties from the bar. “The drink was only eight bucks,” he says. “Happy Hour special.”
Evan glares at the guy. “Keep the change.”
The bartender gives me another playful look that says he was totally right about Evan. Evan clearly wants the bartender to think I’m his.
I promised I would be Evan’s for tonight. The only problem is that I think he wants more. Much more.
But I want Aaron.
***
Dinner with Evan and his parents is about as interesting as watching grass grow. But I smile and nod and pretend I’m captivated by everything Mr. and Mrs. Warner have to say.
Evan’s parents aren’t quite as wealthy as Aaron’s but they’re always on the Forbes List of Wealthiest Americans. They’re not in the Top Five like Aaron’s parents always are but they’re in the Top 50. Evan’s parents are very well connected, though, and many of his family members have served in politics. And I’m talking serious politics, several senators, more than several congressmen and even a Secretary of State. They haven’t had a President yet but I’m convinced they think Evan will fit the bill someday.
As Evan’s mom drones on about her charity work for Autism Awareness, I glance around the hip and chic restaurant. It’s the type of place that makes up-and-comers feel like celebrities when they can get a table. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aaron and Rainy walking toward a table near the back followed by Aaron’s parents and Aaron’s two older brothers. I’m surprised to see Andrew and Allan because they weren’t at the graduation ceremony but Aaron’s mom did say they had a reservation for six.
Aaron and Rainy are holding hands and it occurs to me that they are always holding hands. Whenever I see them, their hands are entwined. It’s like their hands are permanently attached. I don’t know whether to be jealous or gag.
It kind of makes my hand itch to think about someone constantly holding it. I don’t like the idea of being attached to someone like that, even beautiful Aaron Donovan.
I must have been staring at Aaron a little too long because I can feel someone kick my leg under the table. When I look over at Evan, he’s glaring at me. He furrows his brows and I can see he’s getting pissed.
“Ouch,” I mouth and Evan gives me a wicked little grin.
He leans close to my ear and whispers, “You’re mine tonight. Don’t forget that.”
“How could I possibly forget?” I whisper back.
“Mine,” he repeats.
“For tonight,” I remind him.
“And what do you think about the rise in autism diagnoses over the last several years,” Evan’s mom asks as she leans in my direction.
“I haven’t really given it much thought,” I admit. Nor do I ever want to.
Evan’s mom sighs. When she finally clues in that I don’t give a rat’s ass about her charity, she decides to change the subject.
“We’re so proud of Evan,” his mother is now gushing at him. “Not only did he graduate with honors but he’s been offered a top spot at Newman and Neilson.”
“And I just read an article in the Wall Street Journal that declared Newman and Neilson as the top accounting firm in the country,” Evan’s dad adds. “They’ve now surpassed Deloitte & Touche.”
When I sneak a glance at Evan, his face is neutral and I can’t tell if he’s bored with the conversation or completely over his parents or both.
I never thought of Evan as an accountant. He’s so outgoing and boisterous. Not the type of guy you’d ever imagine sitting in an office crunching numbers. But he studied forensic accounting, which he says is a lot more interesting because it’s more like being a detective than anything else. Whatever. If it has anything to do with numbers and it’s not the price of something to buy, I don’t care.
As Evan’s parents drone on about the advantages of being an accountant and how much it will benefit Evan when he decides to run for Congress, I can feel Evan place his hand on my thigh. I glance over at him and he gives me an innocent look but his actions are anything but innocent.
His fingers make their way up my thigh, lightly caressing me as they travel toward the spot between my legs that is beginning to grow wet with anticipation. The words coming out of Evan’s parents’ mouths become increasingly incoherent as Evan continues to caress me under the table. I almost gasp when he hikes up my skirt, moves his hand even higher and begins to caress me over my thin lace underwear.
I clear my throat to try and get him to stop but he doesn’t even slow down. He’s intent on fingering me in front of his parents in the middle of the restaurant, only the tablecloth hides the naughtiness of his hand between my legs. I try putting my hand on his to stop him but it’s fruitless. When I look at him, he has a look of sheer determination in his eyes.
As he uses his fingers to skillfully play between my legs, I can feel myself getting hot and bothered. Then Evan leans in and whispers, “You’re starting to blush.”
“We’ll you’re starting to turn me on,” I whisper back.
“I aim to please,” he replies.
“And I’m expecting you to please me a lot when we get back to your place.”
When the waitress returns with dessert menus, Evan finally removes his hand from between my legs and eases it back on top of the table without attracting any attention.
“We have a lovely crème brûlée and a divine raspberry chocolate mousse,” the waitress suggests.
“The crème brûlée sounds delicious,” Evan’s mother says. “I think I’ll try that.”
“An extra fork,” Evan’s dad says as he pats his belly. When we were young, I remember Evan’s dad being quite a looker with a toned and tanned body. But now in his 60s, he’s got a little paunch, no doubt from a combination of lack of exercise and overeating.
“Would you and Keira like to share a dessert?” Evan’s mom asks hopefully.
Evan’s mom has been acting strange towards me ever since Evan mentioned that Aaron got engaged. It’s as if she believes now that Aaron is taken, I’ll be free to marry her son. As if that will ever happen. Evan is my fuck buddy and that’s all he’ll ever be.
“We’ll take a raspberry chocolate mousse,” Evan says. “One fork.”
I raise an eyebrow and give Evan a look that says: you’re not going to share?
He just grins at me playfully. I’ve never actually seen Evan so carefree. I want to attribute it solely to graduating and moving on to the next phase in life but I know there’s more to it than that. He seems genuinely happy.
When the waitress brings our desserts, Evan’s mom and dad dig into their crème brûlée but Evan just stares at the raspberry chocolate mousse.
“Looks delicious, doesn’t it?” he taunts as he waves the single fork over the dessert.
“It looks okay,” I reply trying to sound blasé but secretly wanting to devour every delectable looking morsel of it. I’m not much of an eater but when it comes to anything with chocolate, I can’t resist.
I can feel my mouth start to water as Evan dips his fork into the mousse and removes the first bite. He looks at me for a moment as he holds the piece up between us.
“Open your mouth,” he commands. I do as I’m told which may be the first time ever. I’m usually the one telling other people what to do, not vice versa.
Evan continues to look into my eyes as he moves the fork towards my lips. As he places the rich delicious chocolate
into my mouth, our eyes lock and his look is so hungry and so wanting, that the combination of sensory stimulation, both visual and taste buds, sends a rush of heat and desire through my entire body and I’m nearly undone.
“Good?” Evan asks as he watches me swallow the morsel in my mouth.
I nod with satisfaction.
“There’s more I want to feed you later,” he whispers into my ear.
I give him a coy smile as I think about all of the amazing parts of Evan’s body I would love to have in my mouth.
He scoops up another small bite of the dessert and moves it toward my mouth.
“Don’t you want to try it?” I ask.
“I’m enjoying watching you eat it.”
I open my mouth and he slides the next bite in. The second bite is even more delicious and I let out a slight moan of approval. “You really need to try it,” I prod.
Evan relents and takes a bite of the dessert. “You’re right. This is good.”
When I glance at Evan’s mom and dad, I see his dad is devouring their dessert and his mom is looking at me like she’s already planning our wedding.
The only guy I’ve ever considered marrying is engaged to someone else but hopefully not for very long.
“So, Evan tells us you’re going to be taking a job at your dad’s advertising firm,” Evan’s mom says. I knew it was an inevitable question.
“I’m actually considering going to graduate school,” I say, even though I’ve only started to consider it in the last few hours, since I heard Aaron would be there.
Evan actually chokes on the last bit of dessert he had just put in his mouth and when I look up at Mrs. Warner her eyes are wide.
“Isn’t Aaron going to graduate school?” she mutters.
“Yes, I believe he is.” I say it like I’m a little unsure even though I’m damn sure and he’s the only reason I would ever consider such a stupid proposition.
Aaron Donovan is going to grad school because he doesn’t want to leave Rainy and I’m going to grad school so I can be with Aaron. It makes me wonder how many students are actually attending the program to get an education.
Evan’s mom gives her son an ugly look which says: What does Aaron have that you don’t and I suddenly feel really bad for Evan.
Ever since we were kids, Evan and Aaron were both best friends and mortal enemies, often at the same time. Our parents, all being best friends and in the same social circles, forced us together. Evan and Aaron are both gorgeous, super athletic, outgoing, smart and highly competitive. But Aaron has always been just a little bit better at everything than Evan and it’s killed him. Nearly everything Evan’s wanted, Aaron’s managed to get, most recently being the President of their social club, The Clubhouse. Not only is The Clubhouse the most popular social club at their university, being President of The Clubhouse was something Evan talked about for four years, ever since they both joined.
And Aaron won.
He also won Rainy.
I’m not sure which victory hurt Evan more.
But something happened to Evan since we saw each other at Spring Break. We were all at Aaron’s family cabin by the lake. That was my first glimpse of Miss Rainy Dey and I saw how easily she could be cracked. It didn’t take much. I just sat close to Aaron a few times and flirted with him. She packed her stuff and took off in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, Aaron took off after her, which was not something I was anticipating.
Evan has changed though. He’s starting to show compassion and even caring for other people. It was like not getting Rainy did something to him. And now that Rainy and Aaron are engaged, it’s almost like he wants what they have.
I never thought I’d see the day when Evan Warner wanted to settle down with one woman. But then, a year ago, I would have said the same thing about Aaron Donovan.
I was the one patiently waiting for Aaron to sow his wild oats. I was the one he was supposed to settle down with. But then Miss Middle Class swooped in and put her little claws into him.
God, I hate her.
After Evan’s dad pays the tab, we say our goodbyes and Evan and I head back to his car.
“Graduate school, huh?” he says as he places his hand at the small of my back and we make our way through the parking lot. “I had no idea you were interested in furthering your education.”
I’m interested in furthering the time I spend with Aaron Donovan, I think. But I say, “The idea just came to me.”
“I’m sure it did,” Evan snarls. “I bet it just popped into your head as soon as Aaron said MBA.”
“I’m surprised to see you got a new car,” I say as we approach his shiny new BMW M5.
The car is hot and I know it was his prize for winning The Clubhouse Tournament. His social club is notorious for their yearly Tournament. All of the senior guys in The Clubhouse put in several thousand dollars and the guy who sleeps with the most freshman girls wins a brand new car bought with the money in the pot. The guys in The Clubhouse have been participating in The Tournament for years. Both of Aaron’s older brothers won shiny new sports cars when they were seniors.
I’m not sure if Evan realizes that I know all about The Tournament. I’ve known about it since Aaron’s oldest brother won his car and I’m sure the only reason Aaron didn’t win was because he met Rainy.
Evan’s expression turns sullen when he looks at me. “It was a gift,” he says which isn’t completely true and it makes me want to push him on it.
Evan opens the passenger side door for me and I hop in. The interior is posh and decked out. He’s definitely got all of the bells and whistles.
When he hops into the driver’s side, I let out a low whistle. “This interior is fantastic.”
“I guess,” he says dismissively. He’s clearly not impressed with the car or maybe with the way he acquired it.
“A gift from whom?” I probe as he starts the engine. It purrs like a contented kitten.
He ignores the question as he pulls out of the parking lot and doesn’t respond until we get on the highway.
“The guys in my social club gave it to me,” he says without looking at me. His eyes are fixed on the nearly empty freeway.
“They gave you a car?” I ask under the pretense of curiosity. I want to see what he’s going to say about screwing nearly every freshman girl on campus.
We drive in silence for a while longer and I can see his jaw is growing tenser with every passing moment. Finally, he heaves a heavy sigh and says, “It was a competition. The car was the prize.”
“What kind of competition?” I ask feigning ignorance.
He rubs his temple and I can see he’s clearly getting uncomfortable. “I fucked more freshman girls than any other senior in the social club. And I got several extra points because two of them were virgins.”
“You must be very proud,” I retort.
For the first time since we’ve been on the road, he shoots me a look. It seems like he’s trying to gauge my reaction.
“I’m not,” he replies. “To be honest, it kind of makes me sick to drive it.”
“Evan the Conqueror is actually feeling some remorse over his numerous and vast conquests. I can’t believe it.”
“Evan the Conqueror?” He seems surprised by the moniker which surprises me. “Where did you come up with that?”
I laugh. “You’ve always been a one-night delight. Did you suddenly grow a conscience?”
He waits until a loud Harley passes us before he continues. “I slept with 52 freshmen and every one of those encounters was meaningless. I won a car. All the guys high-fived me and called me their hero. It was an ego boost for like five minutes. I got my photo on the wall next to every other guy, who won The Tournament. But it’s not an accomplishment I can talk about. I can’t put it on my resume. If I ever get married, what am I supposed to tell my future wife? What if I have a daughter? Would I even want her to be around someone like me? Not one of those girls could even look me in the eye the next morning. I had my di
ck inside them and they couldn’t even look me in the fucking eye. Yeah, that’s some accomplishment.”
It could be the first time in my life that I don’t have something to say. No snappy comeback. No bitchy remark. No words come to me.
But I can feel Evan’s pain and despair permeate the small space between us. I feel a similar pain when I actually allow myself to feel, which isn’t very often. Mostly, I numb my pain with elaborate shopping sprees courtesy of my dad’s generous line of credit, getting drunk or having sex with one of my fuck buddies.
Tonight maybe Evan and I will be able to numb each other’s pain.
I place my hand on Evan’s thigh in what I hope will be perceived as a comforting gesture. I usually don’t do comforting or any other gesture that may be perceived as nurturing because I’m not. I’m about the furthest from nurturing that a girl can possibly be. I often wonder if I was somehow created without that gene. I may be one of the few girls on the planet who doesn’t go crazy for cuddly puppies, furry kittens or babies of any kind. If it’s cute, you can keep it the hell away from me.
To my surprise, Evan reaches down and entwines his fingers in mine. It happens so fast, I don’t have time to protest or pull my hand away…and then it feels so right, I don’t want to.
Then I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me? Why are my fingers interlaced with Evan’s and why do I like it? Didn’t I just make fun of Aaron and Rainy for being attached at the hand and now here I sit and somehow I’ve become attached to Evan?
My world has once more turned completely upside down.
By the time we reach the parking garage of Evan’s new condo, he still hasn’t let go of my hand. We’re still entwined. I know he’ll have to let me go to put the car in park, or so I think. But he actually reaches around and manages to put the car in park with his other hand.
Then he leans over and gives me a soft kiss. “Come on,” he says. “I’ve been dying to show you my new place.”
When he finally let’s go of my hand so we can exit the car, I’m floored that I actually feel like something is missing. And I’m pissed at myself for being disappointed that he doesn’t grab my hand again when we walk toward his front door.
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