by S. L. Scott
A tall guy wraps his large, muscular arm around Sunny’s waist and pulls her to him. She laughs, comfortable in the overly friendly gesture. But the guy sitting across from them, the blonde one, seems to be bothered, almost irritated by the move. He gets up and walks away from the table, heading for the beach. Standing just outside the door, he looks back once before taking a deep breath. Evan takes command and rules the roost inside, knocking the big ones arm away. They keep it friendly, but Evan appears protective over her.
Sunny yells in my direction. "Four burgers, all the way with fries. Two draft pitchers."
I nod, entering their order in then taking two pitchers from below the bar and start to fill the first. Laughter covers the space between, closing the gap and drawing my attention back to the group. Evan's standing telling some kind of story and using his arms to demonstrate. The group is entranced by his over the top dramatics.
Me—not so much.
When I look back at the pitcher, I curse, "Shit!" The beer has overflowed, so I quickly shut the tap off and move that pitcher to the side. Feeling the heat of a dozen eyes staring at me, slowly, I peek. My eyes land on his first. Evan is glaring with his mouth open in shock. Everyone else starts laughing, but they return their attention to their own business. My thoughts are racing as fast as my heart. I feel like I’ve flown straight into hell. “Damn it!” I swear under my breath and close my eyes for a second trying to regain my sense of dignity I left lounging in his bed that night.
Focusing on my job, I move the second pitcher under the tap and start filling it.
"Can I take that one?"
I look up and the blonde guy who left Evan’s table earlier is standing on the other side of the bar from me. His smile is gentle, his eyes sky blue, and his hair sun-bleached. I briefly wonder if every guy on this island is so good looking because everyone I’ve encountered is. The thought makes me smile. "Sure, it's ready. Six cups?"
"Uh," he shifts uncomfortably while looking back over his shoulder at the table in the back. "Yeah, that's good. I'm Zach. You're new here, right?"
"Hi, I’m Mallory and yep, I’m the new girl."
I don't bother giving more than what was asked of me. Instead I concentrate on my job and place the second pitcher on the bar.
“Thank you.” With a nod, he turns and leaves with the cups under his arm and a pitcher in each hand.
When I finally dare to look back at the table, Evan is now sitting. He's staring at the table as if willing it to be something other than beat-up wood. His glare is intense and then he slowly lifts his eyes up and looks right at me.
My heart begins to race again and I need to leave. I need fresh air. "I’m taking a smoke break, Johnny. Will you cover for me?"
"Yeah, no problem."
I grab my pack and lighter and cross the threshold of the bar. Before I'm out the door though, Johnny asks, "Are you okay?"
With my head down, I don't look up and I don't break my pace. "Yeah, peachy keen."
When I make it out the door and am out of sight from everyone, I run to the corner of the building and try to keep myself from panicking. I won't panic over Evan Ashford. He will not get that satisfaction.
I inhale two cigarettes in the time it normally takes me to finish one, and I have a third tucked between my lips, unlit. His Maserati is parked twenty feet from me, demanding my attention the entire time. It’s perfection, like it’s owner, makes me want to flick lit cigarettes on it and slash his tires. My thoughts fire off in a fit of rage in my head. How dare he come into my place of business and look at me like I did something wrong. Screw you, Evan. You're the asshole here, not me. I smile, delighting in the pleasure of knowing exactly the right thing to say at the right moment. But, it's sad because these are wasted thoughts since I won't be making the effort to talk to him. I won't be the next girl in line crying over him. I refuse to be.
I spend the next two hours in a silent showdown with him. Both of us unwilling to cross the imaginary line that has clearly been drawn, dividing the bar in half, his half and mine.
Evan’s group finally seems to be winding down. With a sudden stand in solidarity, they get up from the table and head for the door. Evan takes the tail, letting his friends lead the way. His head is lowered and he’s focused on the ground in front of him. The only weakness he shows is one small indulgence. Without raising his head, he sneaks a peek in my direction, making eye contact one last time before he leaves. I give him nothing, but a glare.
Zach stops at the door, and yells, "Thanks, Sunny. Good to meet you, Mallory."
“Zach seems nice,” I say, leaning forward against the counter.
“Yeah, he is.” Sunny’s reply is light, but her mind is elsewhere.
Thankfully, the dinner crowd starts arriving within the hour and we’re kept busy which keeps my mind off Evan and his crew. At closing time, the cook locks up after we slip out the back door. When we walk around the corner to the parking lot, Noah is standing by his Jeep, which is parked next to Sunny’s VW. He looks tense, his arms crossed and his jaw is tight, but he's not looking at me. He's staring at Evan who is leaning against the front of his car on the other side of the gravel lot. Evan stands upright, his body is rigid and his eyes are locked on me. Sunny and I stop in our tracks, and look between them several times.
My brain tells me to go to Noah, but my still shredded and traitorous heart tells me Evan's the one, encouraging the behavior that got me into this mess.
"Mallory?" Sunny, Noah, and Evan say my name at the same time wanting an answer, wanting me to choose.
I look between the three of them one more time, and start walking.
Chapter 7
Evan takes a few steps forward, but I walk to Noah. The showdown between them is over and the corner of Noah’s mouth lifts up, reveling in his victory as he greets me. He takes me gently by the wrist, and whispers close to my ear, “You look good, Mallory.”
Tilting away from him, I feel awkward about the situation, the present company making me uncomfortable. I dare a glance over my shoulder and see Evan getting into his car. Zach is next to Sunny and they’re talking. Her eyes flick to mine and then Zach’s follow hers, but he looks quickly back to Sunny again. In that instant, I see a look that can only be described as longing between them. It’s fleeting, but there.
Noah helps me into his Jeep and shuts the door. He jogs around to the driver’s side just as the sound of Evan revving his engine fills the awkwardness of the parking lot confrontation.
“Mallory?” Sunny says, climbing up the side of the Jeep, standing on the step guard which puts her eye level with me. “You didn’t tell me,” she whispers. She knows about Evan.
“Can we talk about this later?” I hate leaving everything like this, but I’m not going to talk about this with Noah sitting right next to me.
“Yeah, sure. Have fun and I’ll see you at home.” She hops off and goes to her car.
I peek back to where Evan is parked, just out of curiosity, but he’s already gone.
“What’d you decide? The beach or a movie?” Noah asks, tapping my shoulder.
I ponder both options for a moment. If we go to the beach, it will be us talking which I wouldn’t have minded ten minutes ago. I’d like to get to know Noah, but after this stand-off of sorts, I don’t want Evan to seep into the conversation, especially since they seem to be enemies. I choose the alternative. “A movie.”
An hour later, I’m sitting on Noah’s couch with a large bowl of popcorn on my lap. He’s next to me, eating from the bowl that I’m not. The awful comedy we’re watching gives me a chance to think about what I’ve tried to disregard for days now—Evan. I have trouble enjoying the lame jokes on the large flat screen because I know Sunny is at home waiting for answers. I hear Noah laugh and insert my own forced laughter to be polite.
I can’t figure out why Evan was there tonight. It seemed like we had said all we needed through the exchanged looks earlier in the day. My appetite is gone and I hand the bowl t
o Noah to hold since he’s the only one eating the popcorn anyway. He accepts the bowl without question, never losing sight of the movie. His expression is happy when I glance over at him. He’s a nice guy and I wish I could enjoy my time with him, but I’m too distracted. Evan tends to do that to me.
~ Evan ~
I don’t act on impulse—at least not much, but I never know my journey’s end until I arrive. Tonight, I wish she didn’t live so close to the main road. Mallory is too accessible, and I’m too weak to stay away. I couldn’t stop thinking about her after I dropped her off the morning after we hooked up, so seeing her at Big Kehones this afternoon felt like an opportunity. After watching her at the restaurant, I knew my initial thoughts were right. I needed to take that opportunity and explore it further.
It didn’t matter that I’d been fighting to rid her from my memory for days. When I laid eyes on her again, every emotion resurfaced. I hate feeling out of control and she makes me feel that way, which pisses me off. I’ve worked too damn hard to let her in. My mind is at war with my heart because of her.
I’m completely mind-fucked over this girl, and thoroughly disgusted that I let her affect me like this. I need to get control back, some perspective on the situation. I need to put closure to this mess, refusing to let her win me over. I always win, even if I have to cheat to do it. And yet, I drive by her place finding some semblance of peace just by being near her. After she chose Noah tonight, I know she won’t let me in, so I don’t bother trying. She’s probably not home anyway. I stick to the road, setting my cruise control and drive by slowly. When I near, my gaze shifts toward the apartment, hoping to see something—the TV on, her hanging with Noah, or any sign of her.
My car veers into the parking lot, making a deliberate decision… maybe it’s my heart calling the shots, but this feels a lot like something I shouldn’t be doing, but can’t stop myself. Maybe this is what I do in life, feels like a familiar pattern of going against better judgment.
I park, but don’t get out. That’s where I draw the line.
My breath is stilled, knowing this is wrong. When did I become this person? She’s done this to me. I can’t tell the guys. I’d never hear the end of it. Driving by seemed innocent enough, but now I’m parked in the shadows of the complex lot, hoping to get a view of her from thirty yards away. The lights are out, and I can only assume she’s asleep, so what more do I expect from doing this?
Leaning my head back, I slump down in my seat, and close my eyes. Images of her fill my thoughts—images of being on that couch with her, and holding her. I was once in heaven. Now I’m in hell. I don’t know where I went wrong, but an unfamiliar feeling has hijacked my normally careless thoughts. I’m thinking its regret.
Getting out of my car, I stumble forward, escaping that emotion. I pull out a cigarette and light up, inhaling the calming addiction deep into my lungs. I decided a long time ago that if I was going to smoke, I was gonna do it fully. No light cigarettes for me. Only full on tar, nicotine, tobacco, and whatever other shit they put in these to make them taste and feel so fucking fantastic. I smoke the entire cigarette then toss the butt into the air, deciding I’m not going to do this anymore, but not quite ready to leave.
~ Mallory ~
“Mallory,” Noah whispers from above. “Mallory, wake up.”
I open my eyes and gasp when I see him standing over me.
“You fell asleep.”
“Oh.” I sit up, regaining my bearings. “Oh, sorry.”
“I didn’t wake you because the movie kind of sucked. You didn’t miss anything.” He sits next to me and rubs my back.
There’s a clock ticking on the mantle, and my eyes flash to the numbers. It’s almost midnight. “I should head home,” I say.
“I’ll drive you back.”
We chat on the way, keeping it light considering the late hour. He has lots of good stories and we don’t lack for conversation, even joking at one point over the easiness of the relationship. The car idles when he stops in front of the apartment building. He angles his body toward me, and says, “Mallory, I know you were asleep half the time, but I had a good time anyway. I’d like to hang out again.”
“I’d like that too. Sorry about that whole falling asleep thing by the way. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.” I lean forward to hug him.
His hands grip my waist and he pulls me closer. I feel trapped and noisily gulp. When he leans back, our eyes meet and the awkwardness worsens. Before I have a chance to say anything, he leans forward with that look—a look that says ‘Prepare yourself because I’m going to kiss you.’ I turn away as words fly from my mouth. “So, I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Yeah, okay, see you around,” he says, but disappointment darkens his tone as he sits back.
I jump out and move to the sidewalk, watching him drive off then head inside. Sunny is asleep and all the lights are off inside the apartment. I shut the door quietly behind me, but I have the small place memorized, so I keep the lights off finding comfort in the darkness. After brushing my teeth, I slip into a tank top and shorts. I climb between the covers of my makeshift bed on the couch, and lay there looking out the glass door ahead of me.
The parking lot lamp in the distance is dim and blackness surrounds the building. But a small orange glow and shadowed figure is seen despite the dark. An errant thought flashes in the form of hope filled anticipation as my heart races at the realization, and I bolt upright. The orange glow moves as fast as I do then quicker. I struggle to unlock the sliding glass door, but finally get it open, and run after the spark. “Evan,” I call, hoping my hunch is correct.
The orange ember at the end of the cigarette gets flicked, and my eyes follow it as it loops through the air and falls to the ground. When my eyes finally adjust to the night, I can tell it’s him as he stops next to the car door. He remains in the safety of the shadows, a shrouded mystery.
“Evan?” This time I say his name gentler, hoping he can hear. I’m not going to chase him any further and I don’t want to chase him away.
I stand there waiting for any response he’s willing to give, but none comes.
Under the soft glow of the tall lamp in the distance, he shifts, his body appearing to fight an internal battle.
My heart pounds in my ears waiting for anything. I deserve an explanation. I deserve answers to his behavior. “Fuck.” I deserve something more than silence in the middle of the night.
His resigned body comes closer, his face not visible under the cloud covered night. Stopping one short foot in front of me, his features are seen, the emotion on his face clear. He’s not angry Evan, or bewildered, or even Mr. Smooth Evan. He’s vulnerable and open as his expression pleads with me to make the connection. With caution, he takes my face in his hands, his eyes seeking the permission his lips won’t ask.
I feel a lump in my throat as confusion sets in. He can’t regret how he acted. He chose that path, not me. Nothing makes sense with him, nothing except his lips on mine, willing my mind to settle and my heart to calm. This is right. This kiss makes sense.
His lips aren’t hurried or panicked. He’s sharing this moment with me, taking his time to enjoy the rewards of his patient waiting. My hands are drawn to him and ghost up his chest and around his neck, my fingers locking together. His hands find my middle and pull me closer. My body moves, knowing exactly where it wants to be. My mind has no say in this because logic is overruled by need. I need to be with him and he needs to be with me.
When our lips part, he looks, analyzing me. His eyes search my face then land back on mine. I don’t know Evan well enough to judge his moods by only his expressions, but I know he’s resisting something already set in motion. “You didn’t kiss him. Why didn’t you kiss him?” he asks. His breath is warm and tinged with cigarettes and peppermint.
“I didn’t want to.” I don’t feel the need to say more. I didn’t want to kiss Noah, but can’t admit to Evan that it’s because he was on my mind at the time.
Leading me to the couch, we sit, the silence starting to weigh on my heart. Evan strokes my cheek acting as if it is meaningless, but I know his gentle touches give him away. He may be a bastard, but he’s not heartless.
He leans toward my exposed neck, tasting just the edge of my earlobe before slowly pushing me back onto the couch. I kiss him, feeling relaxed, knowing this is right as my traitorous heart opens up to the one person who battered it without care just two days ago.
Our kisses become eager, our tongues mingling together and are bodies anxious for more. His hands slide to the hem of his shirt and he pulls it off while giving me a look I would normally view as lust, but it’s different somehow. This is him caring. Standing up, he takes his jeans off, confident in our silent agreement. He drops something on the coffee table then pulls me to my feet.
I mimic his actions, leaving me equally exposed and vulnerable. After sliding my panties off to up the ante, I lay down on the couch under the covers. Without losing eye contact, he slides his briefs down his legs and joins me under the covers. “I want you, Mallory.” His breathing deepens as he hovers over me.
My breath staggers, my heart finding instant relief from hearing his voice again. It’s smooth and strong and has an authoritativeness to it. He makes me want to obey though he didn’t give any orders. I lie back and get to the point. “Take me then.”
His hand moves between my legs and my head pushes back into the pillow, enjoying the way he touches me, the way his touch owns my body. A finger swirls, making me moan then disappears. He reaches to the table, and then I see the condom in his hand, the wrapper being ripped open. Turning to the side, he rolls it on then repositions himself above me. The couch is small and uncomfortable, but perfect for us to reconnect.